 | CHAPTER IV. The forsaken |  |
4. CHAPTER IV.
For women, children, aged, and infirm,
To seek for shelter.
—The Sultan.
While singing with her bosom to the thorn.
—Ib.
At day-break the following morning Mrs. Swain descended
the stairs, and was not a little astonished on
discovering the surgeon in the situation just described;
on awakening him, however, he explained the object of
his mission, and represented affairs in such a light that
it was deemed expedient to depart for the city without
loss of time. Accordingly a vehicle was hastily got
ready, in which M`Crea seated the wife of his friend,
and himself beside her, directing the corporal to follow
on the back of old Pegasus, having previously, with his
own hands, administered a morning feed to his favourite
horse. The corporal strenuously protested against exposing
himself to public ridicule by mounting such a
garran, and concluded his expostulation by remarking,
that a seat in the pillory on a holiday would be agreeable
pastime compared to it.
“You speak from actual experience, I presume,”
said M`Crea; “if not, you will doubtless soon be enabled
accurately to draw the line of distinction between
the two positions.”
The corporal affected not to apprehend the peculiar
bearing of this remark, and continued to urge his objections
to mounting the horse, for there is no weapon to
which our nature is so vulnerable as ridicule, and it is
not uncommon to see an affectation of pride floating in
a kennel, and to meet with a fellow who would defy a
whipping-post to make him blush, troubled with false
shame. The corporal's scruples, however, were soon
removed by that omnipotent talisman, a bribe; he
mounted old Pegasus, and before the sun was half an
hour high, was seen slowly pacing after the lumbering
vehicle towards the city.
Jurian had promised to follow. The vehicle was
still in sight as he led his horse from the stable, but
before he mounted he perceived a female approaching.
The first glance was sufficient to tell him that it was
little Miriam of the inn, and a change of countenance
indicated that the interview was not of his seeking.
She stood beside him a few moments in silence, and
then, without raising her eyes, said in a low tone,—
“Jurian, you are about to leave me?”
“For a short time only.”
“To you it may appear but a short time, but to
me!—O! Jurian, I have a presentiment that the time
is fast approaching when we shall part forever.”
“What is it that has again created these idle fears?
I thought I had removed them at our last interview.”
“Silenced, but not removed. You go to join the
continental forces; it is so reported.”
“Such is my present intention; but why, dear Miriam,
should that circumstance create an apprehension
that we may meet no more?”
“You will be daily exposed to death.”
“In what situation in life are we not so?”
“True! and but for that, life would indeed be insupportable.
O! that his arrows flew in countless numbers
across my pathway! How blythly would I walk
on without a shield, where they flew thickest!”
“You distress me.”
“Pardon me, I meant it not. I would be the last in
the world to occasion your bosom a single pang. I
once imagined myself a source of joy, but since that
dream is past, do not awaken me to the conviction that
I am a source of sorrow and shame alone. That
thought would exceed in poignancy all that I have
heretofore endured, and I trust that it is not in store
for me.”
“Fear not that, Miriam, thou art still a source of
joy to me, dearer if possible than ever.”
He took her hand, and would have pressed her to
his bosom, but she gently repelled him, and fixing her
large black eyes steadily upon his face, replied in a
calm tone—
“I have already said that dream is past, and there is
nothing on earth can again create the delusion. Jurian,
our minds have been cast in the same mould, it is therefore
useless to attempt to deceive me. I can gather
your thoughts more faithfully from the language of your
eyes than from the words that pass your lips.”
“And do they not, dear Miriam, speak of love?”
“They do; of ardent and, perhaps, of unabated
love. But they also betray another passion, before the
fierceness of which your love shines as the glow-worm
at noonday.
“And what is that?”
“A passion, for the gratification of which Lucifer
lost heaven, and thou wouldst do the same—ambition!”
“Surely, dear Miriam, there is sufficient room in
the human heart to cherish both love and ambition.”
“As well might you say, there is ample space upon
a single throne for contending kings. They are passions
that brook no rivalry, and when they come in
collision, there is no temporizing; one must destroy
the other.”
“Do me then the justice to suppose that the boundless
She smiled, if a muscular motion of the lips, indicative
of sorrow alone may be called a smile.
“Duplicity is fruitless; I read thy thoughts as plainly
as if they were in a written book before me. I am
still dear to you, though I have forfeited your esteem.
Even the coldest neglect could not convince me to
the contrary, and yet it avails nought; your dream of
ambition must be fulfilled, though at the price of my
happiness, and perchance of your own.”
“Beloved Miriam, if there is truth in man, I
swear”—
“Hear me yet,” she calmly continued: “I have said
that our minds have been cast in the same mould. The
first hour we met, it seemed to me that we understood
each other by intuition. That our spirits had the faculty
of communication, without resorting to physical
means. I had seen much of the world for one so young,
and experienced but little sympathy for those with whom
I came in collision. This apathy may have been constitutional,
or occasioned by my peculiar lot, which prevented
my being recognised as an equal by those to
whom I felt myself superior. But the first moment we
met, Jurian, I felt as if our spirits had met in another
world, and were familiar and dear to each other. New
thoughts arose, and yet they were not new, for they seemed
rather as reminiscences of nearly forgotten dreams.
Still those faded dreams belonged not to this world,
for in vain I endeavoured to trace them to their source.
The fountain was not to be searched; for until that moment
we had never met, and strange as it may appear,
thy thoughts and thy appearance were to me as familiar
as if we had traversed the universe together.”
“Whither, dear Miriam, tends this unintelligible discourse?”
“I have asked myself a thousand times the cause
of this foreknowledge, but it defied the power of my
to you repeatedly on the same subject, and there was
a time when you fondly cherished the idea of unearthly
ties subsisting between us. But since that time is past,
and we must part, it is better that I endeavour to forget
that we were ever bound together by ties created in this,
or in another world.”
“Why talk of parting?”
“Because that hour is near at hand. Our meetings
will henceforth be few and sorrowful—at least to me.
Coming events, 'tis said, cast their shadows before
them—and if this be true, there can be no mistake in
my present feelings. There is but one event could cast
so deep a shade upon my mind—separation from thee.”
“Visionary girl! why will you suffer ideal fears to
render us both wretched?”
“As there is no shadow without a substance, there
is no effect without a cause,” calmly replied Miriam.
“Thy heart will tell thee, when I name Agatha Morton,
whether my fears are idle. Enough! I see it all,
and have long since foretold my destiny. I do not reproach
thee, Jurian. Thy young heart was hers years
before we met, and but for me would have remained
hers undivided. I reproach myself alone—not thee,
not thee.”
Her magnanimity awakened the better feelings of
Jurian's heart, and he exclaimed—
“I am thine—will be thine—wholly thine—my Miriam!”
“And what is there is the poor and degraded Miriam
to gratify the aspirations of thy soul? The pathway of
ambition is too narrow and rugged for love, and I fear
too steep for safety. I may not climb it with thee.”
“Nor I without thee.”
“Not without me! as well might you place a shackle
on the deer, and bid him run. You say you love
me, and I believe you; but mark my words—my corse
would be no more than a straw in your pathway.”
“Miriam, this is unjust, unfeeling.”
“Neither; for I say it not for the purpose of wounding.
Thy ambition may be termed revenge against the
world. You consider yourself as having been trampled
on, and would gain sufficient strength to trample on
others in your turn. To some there is no cup so sweet
as the cup of revenge!”
“True, Miriam, there is indeed no cup so sweet!”
“And you will quaff it, though happiness be the
price of the indulgence?”
“I shall not be the first, Miriam, who has purchased
it at the same rate. If my happiness were the only
forfeit required, how cheerfully would I lay it down.
You know how bitterly I have endured. I have been
marked, proscribed, by those whom the world pronounced
more fortunate, though I despised them in my
very soul. Those only who have thus endured, can conceive
of how little moment appear all considerations
that may interpose in the attempt to change the tone
of the world, in despite of its illiberal prejudice. True,
in the end, the victory and its trophies are nothing
more than the veering of a weathercock, and the adulation
of those whom we contemn—a glorious consummation!
But even an ignis fatuus, of a dreary night,
may lead the traveller astray, my Miriam.” The tone
of his voice betrayed the bitterness of his feelings.
“And will you madly follow a false light, knowing it
to be such?” He hesitated. “Why do you not
answer me?”
“I blush as I avow it, Miriam, I have kept my eyes
so long fixed upon that solitary light, that I fear to
withdraw them, lest I be enveloped in utter darkness.”
“I long since foretold this hour!” sighed the wretched
girl. “Happy Agatha! who at once secures
the love and crowns the ambition of him who obtains
her hand! Farewell. You are now another's, and
dear as you are to me, I can calmly say farewell!”
“Nay, Miriam, look not so sad. Hope for brighter
days.”
“You plant a dagger in the heart, and smilingly talk
of hope to your expiring victim.” She withdrew her
hand from his grasp, as she continued, “hope for
brighter days! and so I do; but not in this world—not
in this world!”
“Reproaches from those lips!”
“Forgive me, my heart is full. Farewell.”
“Farewell! Be more cheerful. We soon shall
meet again.”
“Never, on this side the grave.”
She slowly directed her steps towards her home,
which was but a few hundred yards distant, and Jurian,
with a heavy heart, mounted his horse, and pursued
his way to the city.
The conduct of Jurian towards the devoted Miriam
no circumstances can justify, no sophistry palliate. It
is a crime, that in every age has received the universal
reprobation of mankind. The moralist has declaimed
against it; the unstained have called down execrations
on the head of the despoiler; human laws have been
enacted to heal the broken heart, and the pulpit has resounded
with the laws divine in order to strike terror
to the conscience of the guilty. And yet, in spite of
the moralist, and the censure of the world—
How love will into folly glide,
And folly into sin!—
Jurian from his childhood had taught his heart to believe
that it was wholly devoted to Agatha, and his
dream of ambition tended to confirm this opinion, for
the possession of her hand would crown his earthly
hopes. Nor was it until some time after his acquaintance
with Miriam, that he questioned the sincerity of
his passion. He was not slow to perceive that the
form and features of the stranger girl were fascinating,
of his own. She also evinced an acquaintance with
books possessing but few attractions for a girl of her
years. Her manners and conversation were superior
to her station in life, and Jurian felt that she was every
way his equal, but he also felt that a union with the
obscure stranger would utterly prostrate his ambitious
hopes in this world. Too frequently, man, while deliberately
calculating his interest, neglects to take happiness
into view.
We will now return to M`Crea. Although he had
but a ride of seven miles to accomplish, it was a tedious
journey, for many of the villagers and neighbouring
farmers had taken the alarm, and were moving in the
same direction, to escape from the approaching enemy.
Jurian overtook them at the Schuylkill ferry, for as
there was but one boat, some time elapsed before
it became M`Crea's turn, for the fugitives claimed
the privilege in the order they had arrived at the ferry-house.
During the delay, our disciple of Galen became
very impatient, especially while the boat was
pushing from the shore with some one more fortunate,
but as it slowly returned, his good humour revived,
with the hope that by being on the alert, he might push
forward before his proper turn. This attempt he made
repeatedly, but as often failed, as all appeared as
anxious as the surgeon to cross the stream. While
remaining in this situation, the stranger already mentioned
as having stopped to inquire his way, at Alice
Grey's inn, rode up to the ferry, and accosted Jurian,
who stood apart, so wholly occupied with his own reflections,
that he was unconscious of the scene passing
before him.
“Well met, sir,” said the stranger, “I wish a word
with you, sir.”
Jurian, upon being thus abruptly accosted, paused
for a moment, and looking the other intently in the
face, replied—
“Proceed, sir, I am at your service.”
“My business will not occupy your time,” added the
other, “but as my counsel is for your advantage”—
“Your counsel!” exclaimed Jurian, smiling, then
suddenly changing his tone, and expression of countenance—“To
the point, sir, and waive your apologies.”
“Then be it so,” said the stranger. “Last night,
sir, if I mistake not, you obtruded yourself upon the
presence of Miss Morton.”
“Obtruded!” repeated the other, his face becoming
red with indignation.
“Ay, sir, obtruded was the word,” continued the
stranger, “and this morning you had the effrontery to
attempt another interview, but I advise you to desist
from such fruitless procedure, before it becomes worthy
of punishment.”
“You are a right merry gentleman, by my faith!
And who, pray, is to inflict this punishment you talk
of?”
“You see the man before you.”
“Scoundrel! first receive a lesson from me,” exclaimed
Jurian, at the same time raising his whip to
strike the aggressor, who received the blow upon his
arm, and calmly replied—
“This may pass unnoticed for the present, but remember
the advice I have bestowed, and observe it
strictly. Farewell.”—Saying which he dashed his
spurs into the flanks of his steed, and in a few moments
was out of sight.
During this strange interview, M`Crea was busy
wrangling with an elderly lady of immeasurable tongue,
on the point of priority of title to the boat. He had
drawn this fierce battery upon him, by proving the most
formidable competitor of our Xantippe, who in the heat
of argument could not spare time to be choice in phraseology.
Drone leaned on the neck of old Pegasus,
and listened with deep interest to the altercation, while
an arch smile on his rubicund face betrayed his inward
corporal. In order to escape from the unceasing volley,
M`Crea attempted to enter into conversation with
Jurian, and called him to where he was stationed, fearing
to stir from his place lest another should take possession
of it. He commenced by inquiring who it was
he was just conversing with.
“An exceedingly pleasant gentleman, sir,” replied
Jurian, “but a stranger to you, and to me also.”
“A stranger! why you could not have quarrelled
more expeditiously had you been acquainted for half a
century,” said the surgeon.
“The same remark is equally applicable to your present
case,” replied Jurian, smiling; the corporal smothered
a laugh, and the unwearied scold discharged another
volley of epithets at our disciple of Esculapius.
M`Crea immediately began to talk with great earnestness
to Mrs. Swain, but at every pause, he heard that the clapper
of his tormentor was still going with rapidity. At
length the boat was hauled to the shore;—
“Now is your time to escape,” said the corporal.
“I give place to the lady,” replied M`Crea, gravely.
She accordingly drove into the boat without meeting
with any opposition, and the surgeon considered himself
fortunate in getting rid of such a virago by yielding the
obstinately contested point of precedence, and at the
same time enduring her vulgar taunts of triumph, which
continued during the passage across the river.
“That woman is by no means well bred,” said the
corporal, “and for my part I am glad we are free from
her company.” Jurian smiled.
“An exceedingly coarse woman,” replied the surgeon.
“I dislike vulgarity,” continued the corporal, “especially
in a female. It is bad enough in our sex, but in
woman it assumes the aspect of crime.”
Jurian laughed outright, but wherefore? I have
stage it would have been applauded to the very echo,
but in this strange world it does not become us to speak
even morally without a license. The next boat accommodated
our travellers, and they proceeded to the
city without further molestation.
| CHAPTER IV. The forsaken | |