University of Virginia Library

2. THE STRANGER.

Dalcour ceased, held his watch a moment
towards the moon, and said to me, “where is
your friend?” “He lingers in the house,” I
replied, “to write billets doux, or compose
seguidillas. A young `Cubana' has enchanted
him, and his fancy is now too full to suffer
him to listen.”

The evening was not far advanced. The
admirer of Idomen looked at me enquiringly,
resumed his seat and proceeded:

Before taking possession of this little domain,
I was called once more to the States of
North America. Late in the season I went
again to P—d. A mania had possessed
the merchants of that coast, for investing the
fruits of their toil in privateers, which swarmed
from their ports during a war with Britain.
Some were enriched by the experiment; but
Burleigh had been nearly ruined.

Again I visited Idomen; her household was
reduced, but a degree of elegance was still
preserved about her person and apartments.
She expressed a lively joy at my return.—
“Pass wtih us,” she said, “this evening.—
Pharamond, my cousin, has promised to come;
and will bring with him a beautiful person,
whom I once saw, for a moment, when still
almost a boy, in a little boat, on the river St.
Lawrence, in Canada.

At an early hour in the evening, I returned.
Idomen wore black because of the loss of some
friend, but the covering of her arms was transparent,[1]
and her fair hair was braided and arranged
with more than usual attention. Every
thing which she thought could entertain,
was collected and placed in her drawing room.

Burleigh soon entered with some neighbors,
who were quickly placed at a whist table; but
I remained sitting on the sofa, with Idomen,
who waited for her cousin.

Three blossoms of narcissus were on her
bosom, with a small sprig of myrtle, and relieved
by her mourning dress, had an effect so
pretty that I immediately noticed them.

The snow lay in the streets without, and
the wood fire blazed briskly within, (the same
as when for the first time I came to the dwelling
of Burleigh;) while the freshness and fragrance
of these solitary flowers, bore as strong
a contrast to the season of the year, as she who
wore them to those who surrounded her. “I
never saw,” said Idomen, “the narcissus bloom
in winter before. These were called forth
from their bulbs by a poor Hollander, who
sold them lately, for a subsistence; there were
but three, and I have plucked them in honor
of my three most valued friends.” You recollect
the fable, I said, Narcissus perished for
the love of himself, and nothing remained of
him but this flower; which, upon your mourning
robe looks so very white, and beautiful.
“Echo,” she replied, “perished for the love
of Narcissus, and nothing remains of her but
a sound.” Poor Idomen! her words were like
an oracle of her own destiny!—my story alone,
is her echo, and who will repeat it when these
lips are closed forever?—when the blood of

this heart, which so yearned to her, is changed
to tropical verdure.

Dalcour arose, stood a moment at the entrance
of the arbour, put his hands awhile to his forehead,
and then continued thus his recollections:

The door soon opened, and Pharamond
Lloyd presented Ethelwald, the promised beautiful
stranger.

The endeavor of Madam Burleigh to acquit
herself well of the honors of her husband's
house, prevented at first, the full effect of his
appearance; but, as soon as introduction was
over, one of the milk white hands of Ethelwald
was thrown carelessly over the keys of an open
piano, which was drawn towards one side of
the fire, and the eyes of the lady were arrested;
but the party at whist thought more of
their game than of melody; and as those who
remained were just four, Idomen soon desired
us to sit down to another table, lest music
might disturb those who were intent upon
their play.

The solicitous hostess was placed opposite to
her beautiful guest, whom she had not yet had
leisure to observe, because of the numerous attentions
which it was necessary to pay to others,
but wax lights were soon upon the table and
all at last were seated. Lloyd dealt the cards,
and there was nothing to impede the glances
of Idomen, which were either riveted to the
face or wandering eagerly over the hair and

admirable bust of her partner. Her whole
soul seemed abroad in the looks she cast on
him. Placed directly opposite, the eyes of
Ethelwald were continually encountering hers,
and expressed an undissembled satisfaction.

I looked alternately at each; and while surveying
the young stranger, I could hardly forbear
sharing in the sentiment of delight which
appeared at this moment to have entire possession
of her whose countenance I was watching.

At the period of their utmost splendor I had
seen the capitals of Europe. The beauties of
Asia, I had admired, and wandered over mach
of America. But never had I witnessed before
such an assemblage of personal wonders, as
now met my eyes in the unconscious young
man before me.

His age at this time was twenty-three years;
his stature much exceeded six feet, and his figure,
though still supple and slender, had attained
enough of obesity to give that roundness
of surface so much admired by painters.

The ancient Romans, sometimes fed their
gladiators with a chosen food, to make them
look more beautiful;—but here, what tints and
contour had been refined by a process of nature,
from the snowy earth of Canada!

The complexion of the youth was so fair, as
to seem almost preternatural; but the expansion
of his forehead, a certain stateliness of

carriage; the turn of his neck, and the noble
outline of his whole person, preserved him, despite
of his uncommon softness, from the slightest
appearance of effeminacy. A smile of voluptuous
sweetness played, as he spoke, about
his exquisite mouth, and disclosing rows of
teeth as white and free from stain or blemish,
as bleached pearls newly taken from the oyster.
Still, a purity and even anxiety of expression,
relieved at intervals the mild brilliancy of his
eyes; and a strength of arm almost gigantic,
was forgotten in the delicacy of his manners,
and a certain indescribable grace which seemed
beaming and floating, as it were, over his
whole person.

Idomen, towards the close of the visit, sang
at the desire of her husband.

Secure in her faith, Burleigh was entirely
free from jealousy, and delighted to show her
to strangers and to foreigners.

Some ladies had joined the party, and cards
were laid aside. Ethelwald was enamoured
of music; he sang, with Pharamond Lloyde,
some of those wild boat songs peculiar to the
peasants of Canada, and spoke of the beauty of
his native river. The evening was soon finished,
and when the hour of parting drew near he
went carelessly to the piano forte, and accompanied
himself in one of those simple but
touching airs derived from the troubadours of
France, and still heard from many a lip on
the snowy banks of the St. Lawrence.

A few years' residence in Europe had improved
the natural taste of the performer, and
tender cadences of Italy sometimes heightened
the effect of his closes, without conveying
the faintest idea either of study or display.—
Every stanza that he sang had this conclusion:

No one ever sings well without feeling, for
the moment, what he utters. The soul of Ethelwald
seemed to warm every note and word;
he looked up; and his curling hair, of a pale,
golden brown, shone so brightly between the
flames of two waxen tapers, that it was not difficult
to imagine an irradiation round his
forehead, like that sometimes given by painters
to the god of verse and of the lyre. The
room was warm; and small particles of moisture
had oozed through the pores of his spotless
skin, and glistened like points of diamonds.

Idomen was standing near me, and said in a
low tone, “does he not seem some creature
of mythology, with flesh composed of ambrosia
and ichor instead of mortal blood; are not the
sublime and beautiful united and personified in
him? In height and outline might he not be
the model for a warrior? And yet the colors
that adorn him are more delicate than those
admired even in the fairest damsel! As the
body of Hector when dragged on the earth
round the city beloved of Venus, was preserved

from every wound and stain; so the beauty
of this being of our world, seems protected
by some deity from all the wounds and stains
of mortality.

The eyes of all in the room were attracted,
at this moment, towards the stranger, and the
words of Madam Burleigh were not heard, except
by the friend who was listening to her.—
I feared lest the feelings of the woman were
combined with those of the artist: yet even
if so, I knew the character of Idomen; I trembled
not for her honor, but I feared for her
life or her tranquillity.

On the following day before twelve, I again
sought the dwelling of Burleigh, and found the
young mother engaged, as was her custom, in
instructing her fair-haired boy.

I brought with me “Les Incas,” for Idomen,
when I first knew her, had wished, as I remembered,
for that alone of all the writings of Marmontel.
I waited for some household arrangements;
then desired her to read to me a little,
as had once been her pleasure.

Madam Burleigh met my request with the
same compliance as ever, but her lips pronounced
as if by mechanism. Her thoughts
could not be fixed on the subject before her;
the quickened beating of her heart was seen
through her white morning robe, and her
cheeks were red with the fever of excitement.

“Have you dreamed,” I said, “of your beautiful
guest?” “I have not dreamed,” answer-Idomen,

“but here are some verses that I had
just written down, when little Arvon returned
from walking.” * * * * *

Ethelwald, as I anticipated, was the subject
of the verses. They were smooth, glowing,
and full of such classical allusions, as might
naturally be brought to memory by the scene
of the preceding evening; still I was happy
to find in them more of the fervor of taste than
the disorder of a newly conceived love.

I asked many questions of her who stood
blooming before me, for I wished to discover,
if possible, what channel her thoughts might
have taken. Idomen answered with perfect
artlessness; she delighted to speak of the beautiful
Canadian, but the terms of her praises,
extravagant as they were, seemed scarcely,
even to me, exaggeration.

She did not know the nature of her sentiments,
neither could I at first divine them.—
Accustomed to the ties and restraints of her
early union, Madam Burleigh never thought,
for a moment, of any delight inconsistent with
them. Admiration for this object filled the
void in her heart, and was indulged in with
perfect innocence. Those feelings which destroy
the health and peace of the lover, had never
yet been awakened. The warmth of a
passionate soul seemed directed from its usual
course, and entirely subjected to the empire
of a guileless intellect. She could, even at
that period, have knelt at the feet of the chef

d'œuvre of Nature that enchanted her; but
the slightest breath of sensuality would have
caused an excess of pain, by turning the currents
of her thoughts from that course of etherial
ecstacy in which they were free to wander.

After this I could conceive of the sentiment
which animated Petrarch of Italy, when he refused
the offer of the pontiff, his patron; and
declined receiving in marriage that Laura, the
mere thought of whose displeasure could deprive
him of peace and of health. (12)

Ethelwald, at this time, was also peculiar in
mind as in person; in him appeared none of
the grossness or selfishness of a young votary
of pleasure: he listened to his own praises
with a species of gratitude; and no feeling of
vanity could have induced him to cause injury
to her who so freely bestowed them. Before
I left the house of Burleigh, he had come
with Pharamond Lloyde, and brought copied
music to Idomen. I listened awhile to their
songs and conversation, then withdrew to
look after my affairs, and reflect upon the
destinies of those whom I had left to a few
fleeting moments of present happiness.

Ethelwald, at an early age, had entered the
British army, in Canada; and after the victory
of the allied powers at Waterloo, had remained
two years in Europe. But in that profound
peace which succeeded the fall of Napoleon,
the services of young officers were not needed;
and he was now returning, on half pay, to live

with his father, on the banks of his native St.
Lawrence.

In walking through the streets of P—d,
after leaving the house of Idomen, I twice met
this young Canadian. The day was pleasant.
He wore a neat blue undress, such as was common
at that time to Englishmen of his quality.
His cheeks glowed with the coolness of
the air; and a travelling cap of dark fur, was
gilded and relieved by the hair that curled in
light ringlets around it.

His mien, gait, and stature, united with so
uncommon a face, were sufficient to call forth
surprise from all the sober citizens of P—d,
who were passing to or from their employments;
while little children who were returning
from school gazed steadfastly awhile on
the stranger, or uttered exclamations of delight.

Pharamond Lloyde was to return to Canada
very soon; and I knew, would come with his
friend to take leave of Madam Burleigh, before
evening on the following day. I yielded to
the wish to be present at this interview, and
sought the tasteful home of the woman I most
admired.

Ethelwald occupied a part of the sofa where
Idomen was sitting; and both endeavored to
persuade her cousin to stay another week at
P—d. Lloyde said it was impossible to
be longer from Quebec; and some circumstance,
as it appeared, compelled his brilliant
companion to bear him company.

Idomen had yielded her imagination entirely
to the influence of the scene. “Well,” said
she, “may I desire you to remain,—you seem
to me like an incarnation of the sun,—like a
living Apollo. In your presence I forget that
there is any thing like pain in existence!—
When I look at you and hear you speak, I feel
as if transported to the regions of beauty and
of music.”

These praises were not lost on the Canadian;
though born and educated amidst the
snows and forests of the St. Lawrence, he had
wandered through the galleries of the Louvre,
where all those chefs d'œuvre were assembled,
which, after the fall of Napoleon, were restored
to the cities that bemoaned them; and a
natural taste for the beautiful had made him a
lover of the arts.

The winter sun was declining and the guests
arose to depart. A small present of music was
laid upon her piano, and accepted by Idomen.
The young men took their leave in the English
manner; a shake and pressure of the hand,
and an utterance of the words, “God bless
you!” Pharamond assumed the right of consanguinity,
and touched his lips to those of
his blooming cousin. The friend who so lately
had been likened to an Apollo, or an incarnation
of the sun, seemed wishing to follow his
example; and was withheld less, perhaps, by
the immediate presence of others, than by that
strong sense of respect and propriety, so sacredly

observed both by French and English
Canadians, when admitted to the drawing-room
of a lady.

Madam Burleigh ran through the passage,
and accompanied her visitors to the door,
which they closed gently after them, because
of the coldness of the air. The wood fire fell
in the drawing-room, and while I hastened to
look at it, the latch of the street door was
touched from without. It was Ethalwald; he
had returned a moment, and asked of Idomen,
in a low hurried tone, a kiss such as had been
given to her cousin. A few words ensued and
he was gone.

In a moment, my friend was in the room; a
little agitated, but radiant with warmth and
animation. “Did you grant his request?” I
said. Idomen answered, “am I not a wife?—
Stranger as he is, why should he so have returned?—and
yet he only asked of me the
same proof of friendship I had given in his
presence to Pharamond; I need not have been
so cold; and now I suppose, he will forget me!”

The sweet toned bell of the plantation, at
this moment, sounded. The hour of nine had
arrived, and the negroes of the field were retiring
to sleep in their cottages, not far from
the principal dwelling.

Dalcour led me to the hall, where another
light repast was awaiting us.

Small birds, and shell fish from the bay or

river, were served with wine of Bordeaux, and
followed by fruits and coffee.

The same two young negresses appeared as
before, with their collars and bracelets of the
grains of the coral plant; their turbans of blue
handkerchiefs, and their short robes or tunics
of clean linen, bound by girdles of crimson tendrils;
while below them their jetty ancles were
conspicuously circled with scarlet bracelets of
grains like those about their arms.

Ripe fig-bananas, of a small delicious variety,
were brought to us in baskets, woven for
the occasion, of the same broad, fresh green
leaves which had shaded them while growing.
(18)

The rind had been stript from the mellow
fruit, which before was bursting from it; and
the luscious straw-colored pulp looked as if
beginning to melt upon the green rural vessel
that supported it.

We soon arose from supper and retired to
the piazza. Ambrosio complained of fatigue;
he had written his “seguidillas” and “billets-doux,”
to his pretty `Cubana,' and his thoughts
were still absent and wandering about the long
lashes of her eyes and the glossy black tresses
of her hair. After bidding good night in
Spanish, he retired to his sylvan apartment; entered
a bath formed of the hollow trunk of a palm
tree, prepared in a little alcove, and curtained
with muslin like his bed. Clean and refreshed,
he lifted the veil of his cool couch; adjusted

on it his own travelling pillow of silk covered
with lawn, placed himself in an attitude
of luxurious repose, and thought till he dream-of
Raphaëla.

I soon rose to follow my friend, but the
night seemed too lovely for sleep. My kind
host stood before me in all the beauteousness
of age as described by a bard of Britain. His
every feeling was awakened by the story he
might never relate again. The moonlight
seemed melting over his thick silver hair and
linen dress. He looked as if loth to retire;
and I entreated him to continue his story.