University of Virginia Library

11. XI.
DANGEROUS SYMPTOMS.

From that day Hector's conduct towards Charlotte was marked
by strange inconsistencies. Sometimes, spontaneously, from his
lips the tenderest words fell like warm rain upon the flowers of her
heart; then the lightning of his wit flashed out upon her, sharp
and sudden, from the cloud of his bitter melancholy; or the cold
breath of his assumed indifference chilled her like the north wind.

One day, when she had suffered extremely from his fitful
treatment, Mrs. Dunbury called her to her side. The good
woman was reposing in her easy-chair, and her countenance
beamed with a broken and sorrowful smile as Charlotte drew near,
and seated herself at her feet.

“My dear child,” — and the invalid laid her hand with a
gentle touch upon the young girl's head, — “my heart compels
me to speak to you on a subject which we have both avoided too
long. Let us be true, let us be friends indeed, Charlotte, if
not for my sake or yours, then for my son's — for Hector's.” —
There was a pause. Charlotte's very soul stood still, and the
silence seemed to ring as she listened. — “You will tell me if I
am wrong, but I think — I am sure — Hector loves you!”

Charlotte started, and gazed with a questioning look into her
friend's benignant face.

“If it is so,” said Mrs. Dunbury, “I shall not be displeased.
Only tell me true.”

“But it is not so!” exclaimed Charlotte, with singular vehemence.
“He dislikes me! — you know he does!”

“If you say so, my child, I will believe at least that you think
so. But I imagined he had made advances to you —”

“Never! never!”

“You will pardon me, then, for troubling you,” said the invalid;
“but, O,” — with starting tears, — “if you but knew how much his
destiny depends upon the affections of his heart! I will tell you a
secret, Charlotte. There is — it is better that you should know —
a taint in our family of — hereditary insanity.”

A thrill of horror shot through Charlotte.

“I am a mother,” the invalid said, “and I am, perhaps, weak
and foolish. But this concerns you, and I need your aid and
sympathy.”

“What have I done? What can I do?” demanded Charlotte.

“Be quiet, my good child, and hear me. I see no safety for my
son but in a happy marriage; nor can I be at rest until I behold his
tempest-tossed passion anchored in some pure and loving bosom,
like your own. A misplaced affection is the most I have to fear.
There, dear Charlotte,” — the invalid dropped a tear on her companion's
hand, — “I have laid open to you the most sacred apartment
of my heart: you will not profane the trust, I know.”

For the moment, Charlotte was overpowered with conflicting
emotions. Amazement and distress, not unaccompanied by a certain
vague, fearful joy, sent the swift crimson and pallor chasing
each other in her face. Twice she attempted to speak; then, sinking
upon her knees before her friend, she hid her face in that
maternal lap, and wept. Embracing her, and soothing her with
sympathetic words, Mrs. Dunbury lifted her up. Then, with a
firm but gentle dignity, Charlotte spoke.

“I am grateful, I cannot tell you how grateful, for your kind
thoughts of me, and your good will! I would lay down my life
for you, and count it as nothing. But I can never be Hector's —
he can never be mine!”

“One word,” said Mrs. Dunbury, in a faint voice; “could you
love him?”

“That is a thought which even in my dreams I have not
dared to entertain.”

“Ah, Charlotte! I think I read in your heart what you dare
not read yourself. Cover it up, — cover it, by all means, from
him, — until he calls for it.”

“He will never call for it! And if he should,” exclaimed
Charlotte, “I could not give it him! I will go; I will leave
your house this day! It will be better for me, — better for you
and him.”

Mrs. Dunbury strained her to her bosom. Charlotte struggled
to free herself.

“You know not whom you take to your heart!” she said, with
increased passion. “And your son, if he has a thought of love
for me, he knows not how worse than thrown away it is! We
are divided by a destiny sharper than swords! Do not question
me, for I can tell you nothing. Because I cannot, — because, if
I stay, I must conceal and deceive; because I would not repay
your kindness and trust by such ingratitude, — I will go, and go
at once.”

“No, Charlotte, you shall stay! Keep your secret,” said the
invalid, “if you will; but stay, dear Charlotte, and you will not
only confer a blessing on me, but perhaps save another from the
worst fate that can befall.”

Charlotte was deeply moved.

“No, no! I must not, I cannot! Your love burns me like
fire!”

“Hush!” said Mrs. Dunbury. “I hear his step.”

Scarcely had Charlotte time to regain her feet, when the door
opened. Hector entered, and threw himself upon a chair, while
the curtains of the recess, behind which she had hastily taken
refuge, were still rustling.

“Where have you been, my son?”

“Upon the mountain, to free my lungs, mother. I should
stifle if I did not climb occasionally above the reek of human
breaths. I fell asleep under a tree, and waked to find a woodchuck
smelling of my boot. The mantle-hem of civilization lies
so thin and ravelled on that altitude, that the wild beasts have
not yet become corrupted by the acquaintance of man.”

“How pale you look! Are you ill?”

“No, mother. I have been fighting.”

“Fighting, my son! With whom?”

“With my worst enemy, dear mother.”

“O, why do you have these terrible struggles with yourself?”

“Because I find in myself that rebellion which is to be
crushed!”

“I would you were a Christian!” breathed the pious woman.

“I would I were, indeed; for if I had that grace, I might
convert another, — then the world could boast of two.”

Mrs. Dunbury changed her tactics: “You should be married,
Hector.”

“Why, so I should; and so should every man. But how much
easier it is said than done!”

“You vex me when you talk so. You might have been married
five years ago.”

“After a fashion, mother; but I thank my stars that my neck
escaped the yoke; for I have learned to prize in woman high
qualities never dreamed of in the heat and passion of my youth.
What if I were united to such a one as I should then have
chosen?” Hector shuddered. “God be praised for the institution
of old maids and bachelors, say I!”

He took up a book. But, having commenced to sound him on
a subject near to her heart, his mother pursued it still.

“You must not look for perfection, my son.”

“I look for nothing, — only for the heart that can command the
full power of mine.”

“Need you go far for that? If you do not require wealth, or
position, there are certainly women of soul —”

“Name one, mother!”

“To speak at random,” said Mrs. Dunbury, carelessly, — “or,
rather, to commence nearest home, there is —”

“Charlotte!” added Hector, with a smile, glancing towards
the recess.

“Perhaps she would not have you,” said the invalid, with an
affected laugh; “but you might make the attempt.”

“Mother,” said Hector, severely, “if you jest, your wit is unseasonable.
If you are in earnest, your speech lacks discretion.
Charlotte may be all a fond mother could wish for her darling son,
but certainly you would not expect me to marry her unless I
loved her.”

Mrs. Dunbury's eyes glistened. “How can you help loving
her?”

“How can you help loving — pickles?”

“That 's a foolish question, Hector.”

“Or an answer to a foolish question, dear mother!”

Hector threw down the book, and left the room.

“Charlotte!” whispered Mrs. Dunbury.

Very pale, but with a fair, calm dignity of mien, Charlotte
came forth.

“Did you hear what was said?”

“I have heard all!”

“And you are not offended?”

“O, no, I am glad!” said Charlotte, smiling.

“And — you will not leave us?”

“Not unless you wish it. I am stronger now, and I will stay.”

She spoke with her graceful form drawn up to its full height,
with the roused spirit of pride shining through her face, and flashing
in her eyes.

At that moment Hector returned for his hat. Taking it from
the table, he passed on, and opened the curtains before the recess
where the girl had stood.

“What are you looking for?” asked his mother.

“Excuse me, — but I am trying to discover what has made
Charlotte grow so tall, and given her so fine a color, within the
last five minutes.”