 | CHAPTER XXVII. Vashti, or, "Until death us do part" |  |
27. CHAPTER XXVII.
“DOCTOR GREY, had you possessed a tithe of the ingenuity
of Peiresc, you might long ago have interpreted
the deep, dark incisions in my character, which, like
the indentations on his celebrated amethyst, show where the
laminœ of luckless events inscribed my history with mournful
ciphers. Elsie's hints would have furnished any woman with a
clew; but, since you have not availed yourself of their aid, I
must lift the shroud that hides the corpse of my youth, my
happiness, my faith in man, my hope in God. Ah! unto what
shall I liken it? This ruined, wretched thing I call my life?
To the Tauk e Kerra, — standing in a dreary waste, lifting its
vast, keyless arch helplessly to heaven? Even such a crumbling
arch, beautiful and grand in its glorious promise, is the
incomplete, crownless life of Agla Gerome, — a lonely and melancholy
monument of a gigantic failure. Two months before my
birth, my father, Henderson Flewellyn, died, and when I was
three hours old, my poor young mother followed him, leaving
me to the care of her nurse, Elsie Maclean, and of an old uncle
who was at that time residing in Copenhagen. Having no
relatives to dictate, Elsie named me Vashti, for my mother;
but my great-uncle wrote that my baptism must be deferred
until he could be present, and instructed her to call me Evelyn,
after himself. But the stubborn Scotch will would not bend,
and my name was written in the family Bible, Vashti Flewellyn.
Before the expiration of three years, Mr. Mitchell Evelyn died,
bequeathing his fortune to me, as Evelyn Flewellyn, and
consigning me to the guardianship of Mr. Lucian Wright, a
widowed minister of New York. I was a feeble, sickly child.
hovering continually upon the confines of death, and, as city air
was deemed injurious to me, Elsie kept me at a farm-house on
the Hudson, belonging to the estate that I was destined to
inherit. Here I remained until my tenth year, when Mr.
Wright removed me to the vicinity of Albany, and placed me
under the care of his maiden sister, who had a small class of
here I spent four quiet, happy years; but the death of my
teacher set me once more afloat, and I was carried to New York,
and left at a large and fashionable boarding-school. I was fond
of study, and boundlessly ambitious, and soon formed a warm,
close friendship with a teacher who entered the institution
after I became one of its inmates. I had no one to love but
Elsie, who never left me, and consequently, I gave to Edith
Dexter, the young teacher, all the affection that I would have
lavished on parents, brothers, and sisters, had they been granted
to me. She was several years my senior, and the loveliest
woman I ever saw. Reared in affluence, her family had become
impoverished, and Edith was thrown upon her own resources
for a support. My father's fortune was very large, and the
property left me by Mr. Evelyn swelled my estate to very
unusual proportions. Mr. Wright had carefully attended to
the investment of the income, and I was regarded as the heiress
of enormous wealth. Tenderly attached to Edith, whose beauty,
intelligence, and varied accomplishments rendered her peculiarly
attractive, I loaded her with presents, and determined
that as soon as my educational career ended, I would establish
myself in an elegant residence on Fifth Avenue, take Edith to
live under my roof, treat her always as my sister, and share my
ample fortune with her. Dr. Grey, you can form no adequate
conception of the depth of the love I entertained for her. Day
and night my busy brain devised schemes for lightening her
labors, for promoting her happiness; and I spared no exertion
to shield her from the petty vexations and humiliating annoyances
incident to her situation. Waking, I prayed for her;
sleeping in her arms, I dreamed of the future we should spend
together. At the close of the session, she went into Vermont
to visit her invalid mother, and I to Mr. Wright's quiet home,
to remain until the end of vacation. The minister was a kind-hearted
but weak old man, who treated me tenderly, and
humored every caprice that attacked my brain. I had never
before been his guest, and here, at his house, on the second day
of my sojourn, I met his favorite nephew, Maurice Carlyle.”
Mrs. Gerome uttered the name through firmly set teeth, and
the blue cords on her forehead tangled terribly.
Clenching her fingers, she drew a long breath, and continued, —
“At that time, he was by far the most fascinating, and
certainly the handsomest man I have ever met, and when I
recall the beauty of his face, the grace of his manner, the noble
symmetry of his figure, and the sparkling vivacity of his conversation,
I do not wonder that from the first hour of our
acquaintance he charmed me. I was but a child, a proud,
impulsive young thing, full of romance, full of wild dreams of
manly chivalry and feminine constancy and devotion; and
Maurice Carlyle seemed the perfect incarnation of all my glowing
ideals of knightly excellence and heroism. He was thirty,
— I not yet sixteen; he poor and fastidious, — I generous and
trusting, and possessed of one of the largest estates on the
continent. He had spent much of his life abroad, and was as
polished as any courtier who ever graced St. Cloud or St. James;
I an impetuous young simpleton, who knew nothing of the
world, save those tantalizing glimpses snatched from behind the
bars of a boarding-school. Here, examine these portraits, while
the light still lingers, and you will see the woful disparity that
existed between us at that period. They were painted a fortnight
after I met him.”
She opened a velvet case, and laid before her companion two
oval ivory miniatures, richly set with large pearls.
Dr. Grey took them both in his hand, and, by the dull, lurid
glow that tipped a ridge of clouds lying along the western horizon,
he saw two pictures.
One, a remarkably handsome man, with brilliant black eyes
and regular features, and a cast of countenance that forcibly
reminded him of the likenesses of Edgar A. Poe, while the expression
denoted more of chicane than chivalry in his character.
The other, a fresh, sweet, girlish face, eloquent with innocence
and purity, with clear, gray eyes, overhung by jetty lashes, and
overarched by black brows, while a mass of dark hair was
heaped in short curls on her forehead and temples, and fell in
long ringlets over her neck.
Dr. Grey looked at Mrs. Gerome, and now at the portrait,
but the resemblance could nowhere be traced, save in the delicate
yet haughty arch of the eyebrows, and the dainty moulding
of the faultless nose.
While he glanced from one to the other, she placed a third
miniature beside those in his hand, and he started at sight of a
surpassingly lovely countenance, which recalled the outlines of
one that he had left in his library three hours before, where
Miss Dexter sat reading to Muriel.
“There you have the gods of my old worship, — Edith and
Maurice. Can you wonder at my infatuation?”
She took the pictures, and a derisive smile distorted her lips,
as she looked shiveringly at them, and hastily replaced them
on their velvet cushions. Closing the spring with a convulsive
snap, she tossed the case on the terrace, whence it fell to
the grass below; and drew her blue velvet drapery closer around
her.
“Dr. Grey, you know quite enough of human nature to anticipate
what followed. Three days after I met Maurice Carlyle,
he swore deathless devotion to his `gray-eyed angel,' and offered
me his hand. Ah! when I recall that evening, and think
of the words uttered so tenderly, so passionately, when I summon
before me that radiant face, and listen again to the voice that so
utterly bewitched me, the remembrance maddens me, and I feel
a murderous hate of my race stirring my blood into fierce
throbs. With my hands folded in his, we planned our future,
painted visions that made my brain reel, and when his lips
touched my forehead, as sacred seal of our betrothal, I felt that
earth could add nothing to my blessed lot. Of course Mr.
Wright warmly sanctioned my choice, drugging his conscience
with the reflection that if Maurice was extravagant and inert,
my fortune would obviate the necessity of his attending to his
nominal profession, that of the law. The old man insisted,
however, that as I was a mere child, we must defer our marriage
two years. Mr. Carlyle frowned, and vowed he could not
live more than twelve months without his `peerless prize,'
and like any other silly girl, I believed it as unhesitatingly as I
morning. What cloudless days flew over my young head,
during the ensuing month; days wherein I never tired of kneeling
and thanking God for the marvellous blessing of Maurice
Carlyle's love. Life was mantling in a crystal goblet, like eau
de vie de Dantzic, and I could not even taste it without watching
the gold sparkles rise and fall and flash; and how could I dream,
then, that the draught was not brightened with gilt leaves, but
really flavored with curare? The only drawback to my happiness
was Elsie's opposition to my engagement, and Mr. Carlyle's
refusal to allow me to acquaint Edith with my betrothal. He
was so `furiously jealous of that yellow-haired woman whom his
darling loved too well.' It would be quite time enough to inform
her of my happiness when I returned to school. From the beginning,
Elsie distrusted, disliked, and eyed him suspiciously, but
her expostulations and arguments only strengthened his influence,
and partially overthrew hers. One day Mr. Carlyle sought me
in great haste, and with considerable agitation informed me that
he had been unexpectedly summoned abroad. Business, with
the details of which he tenderly forbore to weary me, would
detain him many months in Europe, and he implored me to
consent to a private marriage before his departure. Mr.
Wright was in very feeble health, had been threatened with
paralysis, and my ardent lover would be too unendurably miserable
separated from me, when death might at any moment rob
me of my guardian. I consented, and hastened to obtain Mr.
Wright's sanction. That day chanced to be one of his despondent,
hypochondriacal seasons, and after some persuasion on my
part, and much sophistry from his nephew, the weak old man
yielded. Then my lover pressed his advantage, and vowed he
could never leave me, that his young bride must accompany him
to London, that my mind would be too much engrossed by
thoughts of him to permit the possibility of my studying advantageously
in his absence, and that he would assume the responsibility
of superintending and perfecting his wife's education. Mr.
Wright demurred; Mr. Carlyle raved; I wept. Maurice clasped
me in his arms, and in the midst of my tears and pleadings, my
take place within a fortnight, and that we should immediately
start to Europe. Poor Elsie! — truest, wisest, best friend God
ever gave me, — was enraged and distressed beyond expression.
She wept, wrung her hands, and falling on her knees entreated
me not to execute my insane purpose, — assured me I was a lamb
led to sacrifice, was the victim of an infamous scheme between
uncle and nephew to possess themselves of my estate, and she
exhausted argument and persuasion in attempting to recall my
wandering common sense. Much as I loved her, this bitter
vituperation of my idol incensed and estranged me, and I temporarily
forbade her to enter my presence. Poor, dear, devoted
Elsie! When my heart relented, and I sought her to assure
her of my forgiveness, tears and groans greeted me, and I found
her sitting at the foot of her bed, with her face hidden in her
apron.”
Stretching her arms towards the grave, Mrs. Gerome paused;
her lips quivered, and two tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Ah! dear old heart! Brave, true, tender soul! How
different my lot would have been had I heeded her prayers
and counsel! Not until I lie down yonder, and mingle my dust
with hers, can I, even for an instant, forget her faithful, sleepless
care and love. I believe she is the only human being who was
ever tenderly and truly attached to me, and God knows I
learned before I lost her how much her affection was worth.”
The cold, ringing voice grew tremulous, wavering, and some
moments passed before Mrs. Gerome continued, —
“Mr. Carlyle preferred a private wedding, but I insisted upon
a ceremony at the church where Mr. Wright officiated, and immediately
telegraphed to Edith, requesting her presence as bridesmaid,
and offering to provide her outfit and defray all expenses,
if she would accompany us to Europe. My betrothed bit his
lip, and objected; but on this point, at least, I was firm, and
assured him I would not be married unless Edith could be with
me. She wrote, declining my invitation to Europe, but came to
New York, the day of my wedding. When I look back at what
followed, I have a vague, confused feeling, similar to that which
my taking Elsie to Europe, assuring me that his wife
should not be in leading-strings to a spoiled and presumptuous
nurse, and promising me that, when we returned to America,
she might occupy the position of housekeeper in our establishment.
Absorbed by my own supreme happiness, I scarcely saw
Edith until we were dressed for the ceremony, and when she
came and leaned against the table where the bridal presents were
arranged, I noticed that she was pale and much agitated, but
ascribed her emotion to grief at my approaching departure.
Several of my schoolmates officiated as bridesmaids, and a
large party assembled at the church to witness the marriage.
Mr. Carlyle was a great favorite in society, and his friends were
invited to the wedding breakfast at the parsonage. It was on
the bright morning of my sixteenth birthday, when I stood before
the altar and listened to and uttered the words that made
me a wife. Every syllable, every intonation, of the minister's
voice is branded on my memory as with a red-hot iron: `Wilt
thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together
after God's ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt
thou obey him, serve him, love, honor, and keep him, in sickness
and in health; and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto
him, so long as ye both shall live?' And there, before the
altar, with the stained glass making a rainbow behind the pulpit,
I answered, `I will.' Oh, Dr. Grey, pity me! pity me!”
A cry of anguish escaped her, and she extended her arms
until her hands rested on her companion's shoulder.
In silence he bent his head, and put his lips to the tightly
clasped fingers.
“Tell me, sir, — if that vow means that man may make a
plaything of God's statutes? If it binds for one hour, does it
not bind while life lasts?”
“`So long as ye both shall live,'” answered Dr. Grey, solemnly;
and he gently removed her hand, and drew himself a
little farther from her.
She was too painfully engrossed by sad reminiscences to
notice the action, and resumed her narrative.
“There was a gay party at the breakfast, and I could not remove
my fascinated eyes from the radiant face of my husband,
who had never seemed half so princely as now, when he was
wholly my own. Once he bent his handsome head to mine, and
whispered, `La Peregrina,' the pet name he had given me, because
he averred that, in his estimation, my love was worth as
many ducats as that celebrated pearl of Philip. `La Peregrina,'
indeed! Ah! he melted it in gall and hemlock, and drained it
at his wedding feast. My heart was so overflowing with happiness
that I slipped my fingers into his, and, in answer to his
fond epithet, whispered, `Maurice, my king.'”
The speaker was silent for a moment, and an expression of
disgust and scorn usurped the place of mournfulness.
“Dr. Grey, I deserved my punishment, for no Aztec ever
worshipped his stone God more devoutly than I did my black-eyed,
smooth-lipped idol. `Thou shalt have no other gods
before me.' Ah! my `graven image' seemed so marvellously
godlike that I bowed down before it; and there, in the midst of
my adoration, the curse of idolatry smote me. Half bewildered
by the rapture that made my heart throb almost to suffocation, I
stole away from the guests and hid myself in the small hot-house
attached to Mr. Wright's study, longing for a little quiet that
would enable me to realize all the blessedness of my lot. With
childish glee I toyed with my title, — with my new name,—Maurice
Carlyle's wife — Evelyn Carlyle! How pretty it sounded, —
how holy it seemed! My future was as brilliant as that vast
enchanted hall into which poor Nouronihar was enticed through
her insane love for Vathek, and, like hers, my illusion was dispelled
by a decree that strangled hope in my heart, and enveloped
it in flames.”
Here the flood of melancholy memories drowned her words,
and, crossing her arms on the stone balustrade, she sat silent
and moody.
In the dusky, crepuscular light, Dr. Grey could no longer
discern the emotions that printed themselves so legibly on her
countenance; but the outline of her face, and the listless, hopeless
droop of her figure, curved between him and the dun waste
of waters.
Overhead a few dim, hazy stars shivered on the ragged skirts
of trailing gray clouds, and the ceaseless rustle of the shuddering
poplars formed a mournful accompaniment to the muttering of
the ocean, whose weary waves were sobbing themselves to rest,
like scourged but unconquered children.
“I thank you for your patience, Dr. Grey. You forbear to
hurry me, even as you would shrink from rudely jostling or
pushing forward the mattock which slowly digs into a grave, —
removing human mould and crumbling coffin, searching for
the skeleton beneath. Exhuming human bones is melancholy
work, but sadder still is the mission of one who disinters the
ashes of a woman's love, hope, and faith. Across the centre of
Mr. Wright's hot-house ran a light trellis of fine lattice-work,
cut into an arch and covered with the dense luxuriant foliage of
the bignonia trained over it. Behind this screen I had ensconced
my happy self, and sat idly bruising the leaves of a rose geranium
that chanced to be near me, when my blissful reverie was
interrupted by the sound of that voice which had stolen my
heart, my reason, my common sense. Believing that he had
missed and was searching for his bride, I rose and peeped
through the glossy leaves of the clambering vine that divided
us. Not four feet distant stood my husband of an hour, with
his arms clasped fondly around Edith, who, in a broken, passionate
voice, denounced his perfidy and heartlessness. Vehemently
he pleaded for an opportunity to exculpate himself, and
there, tearful and sobbing, with her head on his bosom, my friend
listened to an explanation that was destined to enlighten more
than one person. From his lips I learned that he had become
entangled in certain financial difficulties that involved his honor
as a gentleman; he had used money to enable him to embark in
a speculation which, if successful, would have afforded him the
means of marrying in accordance with the dictates of his heart;
but, like the majority of nefarious schemes, it failed signally,
and fear of detection, and the absolute necessity of obtaining a
large amount of money, had goaded him to the desperate step
of sacrificing his happiness and offering his hand to me. He
strained her to his breast, kissed her repeatedly, and impiously
tenderly; that never for an instant had his affection wandered
from her, `his beautiful, idolized darling.' He bitterly denounced
his folly, cursed the hour that had thrown me and my
fortune in his path, and swore that he utterly loathed and
despised the silly child whose wealth alone had made her his
dupe; and, as he flatteringly expressed it, his `hated and intolerable
incubus.' He had intended to spare her and himself the
agony of this hour, — had determined to remain always in
Europe, where he could escape the mocking contrast of his bride
and his beloved. With indescribable scorn, and a wonderful
fertility of derisive epithets, he held me up, as on the point of
a scalpel, and proved the utter impossibility of his having been
influenced by any other than the most grossly mercenary motives;
while, between the bursts of invective against me, he
lavished upon her a hundred fond, tender, passionate phrases of
endearment that had never been applied to me. Pressing one
hand on her head, he raised the other, and called Heaven to
witness, that, although the world might regard him as the husband
of `that sallow, gray-eyed, silly girl,' whose gold alone
had bought his name, the only woman he could ever love was
his own beautiful Edith; and, should death come to his aid and
free him from the detested bond that linked him to the heiress,
he swore he would not lose a day in claiming the lovely wife
that fate had denied him. All this, and much more, which I
have not now the requisite patience to recapitulate, fell on my
ears, startling me more painfully than the trumpet-blast of the
Last Judgment will ever do. Standing there, in my costly
bridal robe, I listened to the revelation that blotted out all sun
and moon and stars from my life, — that made earth a dismal
Sheol and the future a howling desolation, — a dreary wilderness
of woe. In my agony and shame I clenched my hands
so savagely, one upon the other, that my diamond betrothal-ring
cut sharply into the quivering flesh, and blood-drops oozed
and dripped on my shining gossamer veil and white velvet dress.
In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, my whole nature was
vision before me, beckoming me to the prompt performance of a
stern and humiliating duty. The blood in my veins seemed to
hiss and bubble like a seething cauldron, and my heart fired
with a hate for which language has no name, no garb, no provision;
but my brain kept faithful guard, and reason calmly
pointed out my future path. When Mr. Carlyle ended his
tirade against me and his curses on his own folly, I moved forward
into the arch and confronted my dethroned and defiled
gods. If the tedious years of the primitive patriarchs could be
allotted to me they would never suffice to efface the picture that
lingers in deep, hot lines on my memory, and pursues me as
ruthlessly as the avenging cross followed and tortured the miserable
fugitive in Gustave Doré's `Le Juif errant,' or the Eyeless
Christ that proved a haunting Nemesis to the Empress
Irene. Edith's lovely face was on his bosom, and his false,
handsome lips were pressed to hers. So, I met my husband and
my dearest friend, one hour after the utterance of vows that
were perhaps still echoing in the courts of heaven. Such spectacles
of human perfidy are the real Medusas that Gorgonize
trusting, tender, throbbing hearts, and in view of this one I
laughed aloud, — laughed so unnaturally that it was no marvel I
was called a maniac. At sight of my desperate white face Edith
shrieked and fainted, and Maurice blanched and stammered
and cowered. Without a word of comment or recrimination I
silently passed on to my own room, where Elsie was waiting to
clothe me in my travelling-suit. In three hours the steamer
would sail, and I had little leisure for resolution and execution.
Summoning the lawyer to whose care my estate was entrusted,
I requested him to call Mr. Wright and Mr. Carlyle into the
dressing-room that adjoined my apartment, and there I held an
audience with the three who were most interested in my career.
Briefly I explained what had occurred, and announced my determination,
then and there, to separate forever from the man who
could never be more than my nominal husband. I told them I
held marriage, next to the Lord's Supper, the holiest sacrament
unpardonable sin against me, and an insult to Heaven, whose
blessing could never rest upon it. Marriage, without sanctifying
love, was unhallowed, was a transgression of divine law,
and a crime against my womanhood which neither God nor
man should forgive. Maurice Carlyle had perjured himself,
— had never loved the woman who went with him to the
altar, — and the affection that had stirred my heart one hour
before, was now as dead as the Pharaohs hidden for centuries
under the pyramids. We two, who had sworn to love,
honor, and cherish one another, now hated and despised each
other beyond all possibility of expression; and I considered
it a heinous sin to perpetuate the awful mockery, to cling to
the letter of a contract that bade defiance to every impulse of
heart and soul, — to every dictate of reason and decree of conscience.
Wedded lives and divided hearts I believed a crime,
and while I admitted that man could not put asunder those
whom God's statutes joined together, I contended that Mr.
Carlyle's perjury rendered it sinful for him and me to reside
under the same roof. I could not recognize the validity of
divorces, for human hands could not unlink God's fetters, and
man's law had no power to free either of us from the bonds
we had voluntarily assumed in the invoked presence of Jehovah.
I would neither accept nor permit a divorce, for, in my estimation,
it was not worth the paper that framed it, and was a species
of sacrilegious trifling; but I would never live as the wife of a
man who had repeatedly declared he had not an atom of affection
for me. Under some circumstances I deemed separation a
woman's duty, and while I fully comprehended the awful import
of the vow `Till death us do part,' and denied that human
legislators could free us, or annul the marriage, I was resolved,
while life lasted, to consider myself a duped, an unloved, but a
lawful wife, — a woman consecrated by solemn oaths that no
human action could cancel. Since money was the bait, I was
willing to divide my fortune as the price of a quiet separation;
and though from that hour I intended to quit his presence
forever, and regard the tie that linked us as merely nominal,
and would liquidate all his present debts. To your imagination,
Dr. Grey, I leave the details of what ensued, — my guardian's
remorseful grief, my lawyer's wonder and expostulation,
Mr. Carlyle's confusion, chagrin, and rage. He pleaded, argued,
threatened; but he might as well have attempted to catch and
restrain in the hollow of his hand the steady sweep of Niagara,
as hope to change my purpose. My terms were fixed, and I
gave him permission to tell the world what he chose concerning
this strange denouement of the wedding feast. If I could only go
away at once, I cared not what the public thought or said; and
finally, finding me no longer a yielding child, but a desperate,
stern, relentless woman, my terms were acceded to. Briefly we
discussed the legal provisions, and I signed some hastily prepared
papers that settled a bountiful annuity upon Mr. Carlyle.
My trunks were sent to the steamer, the carriage was brought
to the door, and in the presence of my guardian and the lawyer,
I announced my desire never to look again upon the man who
had so completely blighted my life. In silence I laid upon the
table my betrothal and wedding rings, and the sparkling diamond
cross that had constituted my bridal present. No word
of reproach passed my lips, for women love when they upbraid,
and only aching, fond hearts furnish stinging rebukes; but I
hated and scorned the author of my ruin too utterly to indulge
in crimination and reproach. So we two, who had just been
pronounced man and wife, who had clasped hands and linked
hearts and lives until we should stumble into the tomb, — we,
Maurice Carlyle and Evelyn, his bride, four hours married,
stood up and looked at each other for the last time. During
the interview I had addressed no remark to him, and the last
words I ever uttered to him were contained in that sentence
fondly whispered when he bent over me at the table, `Maurice,
my king.' As I bade adieu to my guardian, and paused before
the princely figure whom the world called my husband, our eyes
met, and he flushed, and muttered, `You will rue your rashness.'
Silently I looked on the handsome features that had so
suddenly grown loathsome to me, and he snatched my wedding
remorsefully, `Evelyn, my wife, forgive your wretched husband!'
Without a word, or a touch of his outstretched hands,
I turned and went down to the carriage, where my faithful
nurse sat weeping and waiting. One hour later, the vessel
swung from her moorings, and Elsie and I were soon at sea. A
girl only sixteen, four hours married, separated forever from
husband and friends, — without hope or faith in either human or
heavenly things, — hating, with most intolerable intensity, the
man whose name she had just assumed, and to whom she felt
indissolubly bound, in accordance with the vow `So long as ye
both shall live.'”
Out of the tossing, moaning sea, the moon had risen slowly,
breaking through a rent scarf of cloud that barred her solemn,
white disc, and silvering the foam of the racing waves that
seemed to reflect the glittering fringe of the scudding vapor in
the chill vault above them. There was no mellow radiance, no
golden lustre such as southern moons are wont to shed, but a
weird, fitful glitter on sea and land, that now shone with startling
vividness, and anon waned, until sombre shadows seemed
stalking in spectral ranks from some distant, gloomy ocean lair.
It was one of those melancholy nights when the supernatural
realm threatened to impinge upon the physical, that shuddered
and shrank from the contact, — when the atmosphere gave vague
hints of ghostly denizens, and every passing breeze seemed laden
with sepulchral damps and vibrating with sepulchral sounds.
Mrs. Gerome sat erect, with her hands resting on the balustrade,
and under that mysteriously white moon her pearl-pale
face looked as hopelessly cold and rigid as any Persepolitan
sphinx, that nightly fronts the immemorial stars which watch
the ruined tombs of Chilminar.
Raising her fingers to her forehead, she lifted and shook a
band of the shining white hair, and resumed her narration, in
the same steady, passionless tone.
“These gray locks were the fruit of that bridal day, for, on
the afternoon that we sailed, I was taken very ill with what was
called congestion of the brain, — was unconscious throughout
black and glossy, was as you see it now. Ah! how often, since
that time, have I heard poor Elsie mourning over my mother's
untimely death, and quoting that ancient superstition, `You
should never wean a child while trees are in blossom; otherwise
it will have gray hair.' Mr. Wright was so prostrated by grief
at what had occurred, that he survived my departure only a few
weeks; and at his death, Mr. Carlyle attempted to seize and
control my estate. Urging the plea of my minority, he insisted
upon assuming the charge of my property, and in order to consummate
his avaricious designs, and screen his name from opprobrium,
he told the world that I was hopelessly insane; and
that the discovery of this fact, one hour after his marriage, had
induced him to send me abroad under the care of a faithful and
judicious nurse. To give plausibility to this statement, a paragraph
was inserted in the New York papers announcing that I
was a raving maniac and an inmate of an English asylum for
lunatics. Mr. Clayton, my lawyer, was the sole surviving
witness of my final interview, and of its financial provisions;
and, had he yielded to bribes and threats which were unsparingly
offered, God only knows what would have been my fate, since
the tender mercies of my husband destined me to the cheerful
and attractive precincts of a mad-house. To Mr. Clayton's
stern integrity and brave defence, I am indebted for the preservation
of my fortune and the defeat of a daring and iniquitous
scheme to arrest me in London and commit me to the custody
of an asylum-warden. Fortunately for me, he lived long enough
to transfer to my own guardianship, when I attained my majority,
the estate which had cost me every earthly hope. Six
months after my departure from America I bade farewell to
Europe, and plunged into the most remote and unfrequented
portions of the East, where I wished to remain unknown and
unnoticed. In a half-defiant and half-superstitious mood, I
had assumed the talismanic and mystical name of Agla Gerome,
with the faint hope that it might shield me from the intrigues
and persecutions which I felt assured would always dog the
steps of Evelyn Carlyle. Having appointed a cautious and
of my whereabouts, and became as utterly lost to the world as
though the portals of the grave had closed upon me. Without
friends, and accompanied only by Elsie and her son Robert, I
lived year after year in wandering through strange lands. Books
and pictures were my solace, and to strangle time I first devoted
myself to drawing and painting. After a while I came back
to Rome, and frequented the studios and galleries, perfecting
myself in the mechanical department of Art. But fear of
encountering some familiar face drove me from the Eternal
City, and a sudden whim took me to Madeira, where I spent
the only portion of my life to which I recur with any degree
of satisfaction. There, surrounded by magnificent scenery,
and safe from intrusion, I intended to drag out the remainder
of my dreary years; but poor Elsie grew so restless, so homesick,
so impatient to visit the graves of her household band,
that I finally allowed myself to be persuaded into returning
to my native land. Robert preceded us, and purchased this
secluded spot, which I had stipulated must be upon the sea-shore
and secure from all intrusion. Avoiding New York, I
came reluctantly to Boston, thence to `Solitude,' without
seeing or hearing of any whom I had once known. When I
was twenty-one, I transferred to Mr. Carlyle the sum of thirty
thousand dollars, as a final settlement; but my agent scrupulously
obeyed my instructions, and no human being, save himself,
is aware of my place of residence or the name under which
I am sheltered. Strenuous efforts have been made by Mr.
Carlyle to unearth his wretched dupe, but since I left England,
nearly eight years ago, he has been unable to discover any trace
of my location. From time to time I received bills, contracted
by him, and paid by my lawyer after I left New York; and
in my escritoire are two accounts of jewellers, where I find
charged the flashing ring and costly diamond cross, which I
refused to retain but for which I paid, after my separation.
Prone to dissipation, Mr. Carlyle plunged into excesses that
would have squandered royal portions, and my agent writes
that his eagerness to ascertain where I am residing has recently
the terms of our separation deprive him of every shadow of
claim upon me or my purse. Such, Dr. Grey, is the shattered
idol of my girlish adoration, — such the divinity of dust upon
which I spent the treasures of my love and trust. Gray-haired,
gray-hearted, mocked, and maddened in the dawn of my confiding
womanhood, nominally a wife, but in reality a nameless
waif, shut out from happiness, and pitied as a maniac, — such,
is that most desolate and isolated woman, whom, as Agla
Gerome, you have known as the mistress of this lonely place.
As for my name, I sometimes wonder whether in the last great
gathering in the court of Heaven, my own mother will know
what to call her unbaptized child, — whether the sins charged
against me will be read out as those of Vashti, or Evelyn, or
Agla. Elsie persistently clung to Vashti, and verily there
seems a grim fitness in her selection, — a dismal analogy between
my blasted life and that of the discrowned Persian Queen.
Be that as it may, if I miss a name I surely shall not miss
the equity that man denies me. `So long as ye both shall live.'
When I look out in spring-time, over the blossoming earth,
daisies, and violets, and primroses range themselves into lines
that spell out these hated words of an ever-echoing vow, and
if, in midnight hours, I raise my weary eyes, the sleepless stars
revengefully group themselves, and flash back to me, in burning
characters, `Till death us do part.' Up yonder, behind sun,
and planet, and nebulæ, I shall look God in the face, and
pointing to my withered heart and blighted life, can say truly,
`At least I kept the ruins free from perjury; there, at your
feet, is the oath unsullied, that I called you to accept on the
awful day when I knelt at your altar.' Love, honor, and
obedience, Maurice Carlyle's unworthiness rendered impossible;
but the vow which consecrated and set me apart, which forbade
the thought that other men might offer homage and affection,
or even ordinary tributes of admiration, I have kept sacredly
and faithfully. I might have plunged into the whirlpool of
fashionable life, and found temporary oblivion of my humiliation
and disappointment; but from such a career my whole being
years that can scarcely be termed life. Recently I have been
honored by several proposals for a divorce, on condition of an
additional settlement of money upon my eminently chivalric
and devoted husband; but my invariable reply has been, human
legtslation is impotent to eancel the statutes of Almighty God,
which daclare that only death can free what Jehovah has
joined together, and the legal provisions of man crumble and
shrivel before the divine command, `For the woman which hath
an husband is bound by the law to her husband so long as he
liveth.' With what impatience, what ceaseless yearning, I await
the cold touch of that deliverer who alone can sever my galling,
detested fetters, none but the God above us can understand
and realize. The eagerness with which I once anticipated
my bridal hour does not approximate the intensity of my longing
for the day of my death. O merciful God! surely, surely,
I have been sufficiently tortured, and the tardy release can not
be far distant.”
She raised her face skyward, as if invoking Divine aid, but
her wan lips were voiceless; and only the song of the surf mingled
with the whisper of trembling poplars, whose fading leaves
gleamed ghostly and chill under the silver sheen of that broad
white moon.
A warning comet trails her hideous hair,
And underneath, the wroth sea-waves are white.”
During the hour in which Dr. Grey listened to the recital of
this woman's hapless career, she became as utterly dead to him
as though shroud and sepulchre had already claimed her; and
when she ceased speaking, he looked as sorrowfully down at her
fair, frozen face, as if the coffin-lid were shutting it forever
from his view.
Henceforth she was as sacred in his sad eyes as some beloved
corpse, and bowing his head upon his hands, he prayed long but
silently that God would strengthen him for the duties of a desolate
future, — would sanctify this grievous disappointment to
the heart of the only woman whom he had ever desired to
call his own.
Putting away the beautiful dreams wherein this regal form
had moved to and fro as crown and queen of his home and
heart, he calmly resigned the cherished scheme that linked this
woman's life with his; and felt that he would gladly barter all
his earthly hopes for the assurance, that, throughout eternity, he
might be allowed the companionship which time denied him.
Mrs. Gerome rose, and folding her mantle around her, said
proudly, —
“Married life, unhallowed by love, is more acceptable in your
righteous eyes than my isolated existence; and you have passed
sentence against me. So be it. Strange code of morality you
Christians hug to your hearts, squeezing the form that holds no
spirit; but some day I shall be acquitted by that incorruptible
tribunal where God alone has the right to judge us. Till then,
farewell.”
She turned to leave the terrace, but he arrested the movement,
and placed himself before her.
“You misinterpret my silence, if you suppose it was employed
in censuring your course. Pondering all that you have recapitulated,
I can conjecture no line of conduct towards your husband
less deplorable than that which you have pursued; and I honor
the stern honesty and integrity of purpose from which you have
never swerved. Mrs. Carlyle, I acquit you of all guilt, save that
of impious defiance, of rebellion against your God, whose grace
could sweeten even the bitter dregs of the cup you have well
nigh drained.”
At the sound of her name, so long unuttered, she winced and
writhed as if some sensitive nerve had been suddenly pierced
and torn; but without heeding her emotion, Dr. Grey continued,
—
“If your earthly lot has been stinted of sunshine, can you not
bear a little temporary gloom, — must you needs people it with
adverse witnesses, must you thicken the darkness with imprecations?
You forget that life is only the race-course, not
of Dura proved for the Hebrew trio who braved its flames.
Suppose you are lonely and bereft of the love that might
have cheered you? Was not Christ far more isolated and loveless?
In His fearful ordeal He was forsaken by God, — but
to you remains the everlasting promise, `I will not leave you
comfortless; I will come to you.' O wretched woman! give
your aching heart to Him who emptied it of earthly idols in
order to fit it up for His own temple.
Rise, worship, bless Him, in this sackcloth spun,
As in that purple.'”
Silently she listened, looking steadily up at his noble face,
where intense mental anguish had left unwonted pallor, and
printed new ciphers on brow and lips; and when his adjuration
ended, she put out her hand.
“That you do not condemn me is the most precious consolation
you could offer, for your good opinion is worth much to
my proud, sensitive soul. If all men were like you there would
be no mutilated, ruined lives, such as mine, — no nominal
wives roaming up and down the world in search of an obscure
corner wherein to hide dishonored heads and crushed hearts.
God grant you some day a wife worthy of the noblest man it
has ever been my good fortune to meet. Good-by.”
He did not accept the offered hand, and stood for a moment
as if struggling to master some impulse to which he could not
yield. Perhaps he dared not trust the touch of those gleaming,
slender fingers that had clasped a living husband's; or perchance
he was so absorbed by painful thoughts that he failed to observe
them.
Laying his palm softly on her snowy head, he said tenderly,
—
“Mrs. Carlyle, you have innocently, and I believe unconsciously,
caused me the keenest suffering I have ever endured;
and I feel assured you will not withhold the only reparation
which you could render, or I accept. Will you promise to
Will you humble your defiant soul, and so spend your future,
that when this brief earthly pilgrimage ends you can pass joyfully
to the city of Rest? Girded with this hope, I can brave
all trials, — can be content to look upon your face no more in
this world, — can patiently wait for a reunion in that Eternal
Home where they which shall be accounted worthy to obtain
that world, and the resurrection from the dead, neither marry
nor are given in marriage.”
“Oh, Dr. Grey, if it were possible!”
She clasped her hands and bowed her chin upon them, awed
by his tones, and unable to meet his grave, pleading eyes.
“Faith and prayer are the talismans that render all things
possible to an earnest Christian; and it has been truly said
We mount to heaven mostly on the ruins of our cherished
schemes, finding our failures were successes.' Recollect,—
The grave of all things hath its violet,'
the nobler elements of your nature. I will exact no
promise, but when I am gone, do not forget the request that my
soul makes of yours. May God point out your work and help
you to perform it faithfully. May His hand guide and uphold,
and His merciful arms enfold you, now and forever, is and
shall be my prayer.”
For a moment his hand lingered as if in benediction upon
the drooping gray head, then he quietly turned and walked
away, knowing full well that he was bidding adieu to the most
precious of all earthly objects, — that he too was shattering
a lovely “graven image,” before which his heart had fondly
bowed.
As the sound of his firm step died away, the lonely woman
lifted her face and looked after the form, vanishing in the
gloom of the overarching trees. When he had disappeared,
and she turned seaward, where the moon, as if inviting her
to heaven, had laid a broad shining band of beaten silver
and made a new covenant with her pitying God.
Shall purify itself, and heal itself,
In the long toil of love made meek by tears.”
| CHAPTER XXVII. Vashti, or, "Until death us do part" | |