 | CHAPTER X. Westward ho! |  |
10. CHAPTER X.
A glimpse of sunshine darkened.
It would have been a wonder to distance all
the other wonders of the world had Virginia
remained ignorant of the discovery and arrival
of Rainsford any longer than Mrs. Judith Paddock
took to cross the way and tell the story.
It is hard to say what were her feelings on this
occasion, and for that reason we will not attempt
to delineate them. She could receive no joy at
his return in the state Mrs. Judith described,
and still less could she find in her heart to regret
that he had not perished in the manner
before related. Certain it is, however, that she
was observed to lose that quiet air of resignation
which had followed the loss of hope; and
from this time forward her watchful mother
detected in her manner and conduct all the indications
of a mind agitated by conflicting emotions.
The paroxysm in which Rainsford was found
in the forest had arisen as much from hunger,
exposure, and the miserable roots and berries he
had subsisted on for some days, as from any
predisposing cause. And he awoke the next
morning, after snatches of sleep disturbed by
occasional starts and ravings, in a quiet state
of gloomy languor, which encouraged Mrs. Judith
to venture on the gratification of her curiosity,
room, where he had been secured for the present.
He paid little attention to her or her questions,
until, apparently wearied and fatigued,
he looked sternly at her, and exclaimed,—
“Get thee behind me, Satan; I know you of
old. You have been at me many a time before
with that ugly black face and cloven foot. You
needn't try to hide it or your face either; for if
your husband's a fool I am not; I can see
with half an eye you've got a split foot, and
horns on your head, just like an ox.”
Mrs. Judith was exceedingly wroth at this
unseemly blunder; for well saith the great poet,
“Use lessens marvel,” and it is the happiness
of mankind, as well as womankind, that by dint
of frequent contemplation in the looking-glass,
they not only become reconciled to, but peradventure
enamoured of, deformity. We may
call this vanity, but in our minds it is the true
essence of philosophy; for where would be the
use of pining over those infirmities which it
hath pleased Providence to inflict upon us, and
which all the regrets in the world, so far from
alleviating, only tend to make ten thousand
times more painful. To laugh at such delusions
as contribute to the happiness of the unfortunate
only shows the folly and ill-nature of
mankind. We have before hinted that Mrs.
Judith was, as it were, one of nature's most
masterly blunders; but if she admired herself,
so much the better for her husband; for it was
the cause of a certain dulcet humour of which
he reaped much of the benefits. But this sortie
of poor Rainsford against her beauty irritated
declaring that, however she might have doubted
before, all the world would not persuade her
now that he was not as mad as a March hare.
The unhappy youth sat down and burst into a
hearty laugh; but whether from a remote perception
of the ridiculous or not, is difficult to
decide. There is certainly a mischievous wilfulness
in deranged intellects that has sometimes
almost persuaded us that such a state of
mind often consists less in the inability than
the inclination to restrain its excesses. Anger
is justly denominated a short madness; yet it
is ever under the restraint of prudence, and we
doubt if the most furious victim of that passion
would dare to exhibit it in the presence of the
man he feared.
Various were the consultations of Colonel
Dangerfield with his wife and son as to the
best mode of disposing of this unfortunate young
man, with whose friends and former residence
they were totally unacquainted. Dangerfieldville
not being the county town, there was neither
court-house nor jail in which he might be
secured until he regained, if he ever regained,
his reason; and it was obvious that the chamber
of Master Zeno would be insufficient to retain
him if he should be determined on escaping.
It was proposed to insert a description of his
person and situation in the Western Sun, in the
hope of his being recognised by his family, if he
had any; but to this, Virginia, who often joined
in these consultation, strenuously objected.
“If he should ever recover,” said she, “I know
exposure.”
“Alas! I fear all hope of his recovery is vain,”
replied Mrs. Dangerfield.
“He who deprived him of his reason can restore
it, mother.”
“My dear child, you know not how difficult
it is to heal the shattered intellect of a rational
being.”
“Not so difficult, dear mother, as to create a
rational being.” She paused, and resumed, in
a hesitating voice, “Now that you are here together,
I have a proposal to make, a wish to
gratify, if I dared to ask permission.”
“What is it, my love? said Mrs. Dangerfield.
“I—I wish to see Mr. Rainsford once—once
more. I have a hope—a presentiment I may
almost call it—that he would know me, and
that I might sooth his calamity, if nothing
more. Will you permit me to make the trial?”
“For heaven's sake! for our sakes, Virginia,
abandon the idea. I shudder at the
thought of such an exposure. Suppose, in a
paroxysm of phrensy, he should tear you to
pieces. Such things have happened.”
“Ah! I fear him not, my mother. There
must yet remain some little recollection of what
—what we have been, and were to be to each
other, that the sight of me, the sound of my
voice will awaken. I beseech you, as you value
my peace, I might say my life, to let me see
him once more. I should never know the repose
of a moment, if I were not conscious of
having done all that my heart suggested to me
as possible to awaken poor Rainsford to a recollection
Let me, let me go, or perhaps I may become
one day like him.”
The solemn earnestness, the hope, however
hopeless, with which she urged her request, at
length wrought on them all to consent to her
visiting the unhappy young man once more.
It was arranged that the colonel and Leonard
should accompany her, and remain just without
the door, while she should enter alone.
The mother inquired when it should be, and
Virginia hesitated, and trembled for a moment,
ere she uttered the single monosyllable,
“Now.”
Leonard went over to ascertain the state of
the patient; and in the mean while Virginia
arrayed herself in a gown of spotless white,
not whiter than her pale cheek and forehead,
over which her chestnut hair was smoothly
parted, in that most beautiful and simplest form
of delicate womanhood. “I am ready,” said
she, firmly; and she took the arm of her father,
and walked with a steady step to the
place of meeting. When just outside the door
she paused and faltered; but it was soon over;
and the door being opened, she entered.
Rainsford, who had been persuaded to suffer
himself to be dressed and shaved, in one of his
good-natured intervals, was sitting with his
back towards the door, his body inclined forward,
and his head depressed on his bosom,
employed in picking a little fragment of linen
in pieces. He paid no attention to her entrance,
and she had an opportunity of recovering her
firmness, before she uttered, in the sweetest
spring, the single word,
“Dudley Rainsford!”
He suddenly whirled himself round on his
chair; but it was evident the sound, and not
the sense, had roused him, for he displayed no
symptoms of recognising the person who gave
it utterance.
“He has forgotten me!” sighed Virginia;
and she was obliged to lean against the wall
for support.
“What!” cried he, at length, after looking at
her awhile; “what! are you come back again,
with your cloven foot and horns? Don't you
know I have sworn to put to death all the handsome
Jezebels in the creation; because I have
it from the best possible authority they keep
more honest men from heaven than the very
old boy himself. Go away, go away, or I shall
fall in love with that deceitful handsome face
of yours.”
“Dudley Rainsford!” said Virginia, coming
nearer, “don't you know Virginia?”
“What, Old Virginia? Yes, I think I have
heard of such a trifle; but don't come near me,
stand off; I don't choose to lose my soul for a
woman, I can tell you. Though when I look
at you, I think I might run the risk, for you
put me in mind of a little angel I once saw in
a dream.”
Virginia approached yet nearer, and placed
her hand on his brow. “What, you will come,
hey! You're determined I shall roast, as the
old black woman, that made me pay so dear for
my dinner, said. Look here what a price for
showed the deep marks of the struggle with
Bushfield.
Virginia could not speak, but she hung over
him, and the scalding tears fell on his forehead.
In those beautiful fictions of poetry and romance
which are now almost overwhelmed by
the barren exuberance of their successors, it
has been fabled that the ferocity of the lion
was tamed by the divinity of virgin purity and
gentleness. Even so with Rainsford. He felt
the tears trickle on his forehead; he felt the
balmy breath breathing in his face; and all at
once he seemed to be recalled to some faint yet
organized traces of the incidents of his former
life. He looked at her intensely, a few moments,
then took her hand and kissed it, as he softly
exclaimed,
“Virginia! are you not afraid of me?”
“O! he knows me now!” cried she, in a
burst of joy.
“Yes, I do know thee; and I have broken the
oath I made once. I remember—where was
it? no matter, I am lost now. I see it. I am
doomed to howl, howl, as the preacher said;
and all because I didn't do it when I had so
good an opportunity. But I am glad I did not,
for I had rather howl than harm thee, Virginia.”
She sat down by his side, her hand in his;
and for a little while, apparently with continued
efforts, he mastered his malady sufficiently to
avoid incoherence. But the exertion was too
great for him; by degrees he began to lose all
power of arrangement; and the last effort of
her to leave him.
“Go! go! it is written I shall shed blood;
let it not be yours!”
The colonel and Leonard Dangerfield were
alarmed at the increasing loudness of his voice,
and showing themselves at the door, beckoned
her to come forth. She obeyed them unwillingly;
and the moment she left the room,
Rainsford started up, shut the door violently,
and exclaimed,
“There! there! now she's safe; and let me
howl and welcome. Who says I'm not a hero
to give away my soul for a woman?”
The interview, however painful to her feelings,
was on the whole calculated to cherish a
latent spark of hope in the bosom of Virginia.
That he had known her; that he had for a few
minutes, at least, enjoyed an interval of recollection,
indicated that his mind was not irretrievably
gone. Kindness, care, and perseverance
might do much, perhaps might do every
thing necessary to the restoration of his reason,
and she had long accustomed herself to
think that both affection and gratitude demanded
all her exertions to save him. She
accordingly settled it in her mind that she
would repeat the experiment every day, as long
as there remained any hope.
She communicated her wishes to her mother,
who, observing her pale cheek, tearful eye, and
agitated frame, was fearful such a plan would
end rather in being fatal to her health, than effectual
in regard to the unfortunate Rainsford.
him every day would gradually undermine her
happiness for the rest of her life, and destroy
that strength of mind so essential to its dignity
and usefulness. The reply of Virginia was as
remarkable as it was true.
“My dear mother, I am young, but I have
lived long enough, and suffered enough, to know
by my own experience that those evils we
shrink from are always the most terrible to the
imagination. What we are not afraid to look
upon we are not half so much afraid of as if
we turned away from it in fear or horror. I
had pictured poor Rainsford as a raving maniac,
divested as well of the form of humanity,
as of the attributes of reason; but I found him
still fair and gentle, and can almost think of
him with pleasure again.”
“Well, then, my dear daughter, take your
own way; for it is not the weak vanity of a mother,
nor her childish indulgence, which make
me say, that so help me Heaven, as I believe I
might trust you everywhere, where intellect
and virtue are the safeguards of woman.”
| CHAPTER X. Westward ho! | |