 | CHAPTER XXXIX. The Morgesons |  |
39. CHAPTER XXXIX.
The day came. Alice Morgeson, and Helen with her baby,
arrived the night before; and Ben and Mr. Somers drove from
Milford early in the afternoon. Mr. Somers was affable, and
patronizing. When introduced to Veronica he betrayed astonishment.
“She is not like you, Cassandra. Are you in delicate
health, my dear?” addressing her.
“I have a peculiar constitution, I believe.”
He made excuses to her for Mrs. Somers, and his daughters,
to which she answered not a word. He was in danger of
being embarrassed, and I enticed him away from her—not before
she whispered gravely, “Why did he come?” I went
over the house with him, and he remarked on its situation, for
sun and shade, and protection from, or exposure to, the winds;
tasted the water, and pronounced it excellent. He thought I
had a true idea of hospitality; the fires everywhere proclaimed
that. Temperance had the air of a retainer; there was an atmosphere
about our premises, which placed them at a distance
from the present. Alice came to my assistance and entertained
him so well that I could leave him.
We had invited a few friends and relations to witness the
ceremony, at eight o'clock. I had been consulted so often on
various matters, that it was dark before I finished my tasks,
I kept a bunch of them in reserve for Verry's plate; for we
were to have a supper, at father's request, who thought it
would be less tiresome to feed the guests, than to talk to them.
Verry did not know this, though she had asked several times
why we were all so busy.
It was near seven when I went up stairs to find her. Temperance
had sent Manuel and Fanny to the different rooms
with tea, bread and butter, and the message that it was all we
were to have at present. Ben had been extremely silent since
his arrival, and disposed to reading. I looked over his shoulder
once, and saw that it was “Scott's Life of Napoleon” he
perused; and an hour after, being obliged to ask him a question,
saw him still at the same page. He was now dressing
probably. Helen and Alice were in their rooms. Mr. Somers
was napping on the parlor sofa; father was meditating at his
old post in the dining room, and smoking. It was a familiar
picture; but there was a rent in the canvass, and a figure was
missing—she who had been its light!
I found Verry sound asleep on the sofa in my room.
A glass full of milk was on the floor beside her, and a plate
with a slice of bread. The lamp had been lighted by some
one, and carefully shaded from her face. She had been restless,
I thought, for her hair had fallen out of the comb, and
half covered her face, which was like marble in its whiteness
and repose. Her right arm was extended; I took her hand,
and her warm, humid fingers closed over mine.
“Wake up, Verry; it is time to be married.”
She opened her eyes, without stirring, and fixed them upon
me. “Do you know any man, who is like Ben? Or was it he
whom I have just left in the dark world of sleep?”
“I know his brother, who is like him, but dark in complexion;
and his hair is black.”
“His hair is not black.”
I rushed out of the room, muttering some excuse, came back,
and arranged her toilette; but she remained with her arm still
extended.
“It was a strange place where we met; curious, dusty old
trees grew about it. He was cutting the back of one with a
dagger, and the pieces he carved out fell to the ground, as if
they were elastic. He made me pick them up, though I wished
to listen to a man who was lying under one of the trees, wrapped
in a cloak, keeping time with his dagger, and singing a
wild air.”
“`What do you see?'” said the first.
“`A letter on every piece,'” I answered, and spelt Cassandra.
`Are you Ben transformed?' I asked, for he had his
features, his air, though he was a swarthy, spare man, with
black, curly hair, dashed with grey; but he pricked my arm
with his dagger, and said, `Go on.' I picked up the rest, and
spelt `Somers.”
“`Cassandra Somers! now tell her,” he whispered, turning
me gently from him, with a hand precisely like Ben's.”
“No, it is handsomer.”
“Before me was a space of sea. Before I crossed, I wanted
to hear that wild music; but I heard your voice.”
She sat up, and unbuttoned her sleeve. As I live, there was
a red mark on her arm above her elbow!
I crushed my hands together, and set my teeth, for I would
have kissed the mark, and washed it with my tears. But
Verry must not be agitated now. She divined my feelings, for
the first time in her life. “I have indeed been in a long sleep,
as far as you are concerned; this means something. My blindness
is removed by a dream. Do you despise me?” Two
large, limpid tears dropped down her smooth cheeks without
ruffling the expression of her face.
“I have prided myself upon my delicacy of feeling. You
may have remarked that I considered myself your superior?”
“You are all wrong. I have no delicate feelings at all; they
are as coarse and fibrous as the husk of a cocoa-nut. Do for
heaven's sake get up, and let me dress you.”
She burst into laughter. “Bring me some water, then.”
I brought her a bowl full, and stood near her with a towel;
but she splashed it over me, and dribbled her hands in it till
I was in despair. I took it away, and wiped her face, which
looked at me so childly, so elfish, so wilful, and so tenderly,
that I took it between my hands and kissed it. I pulled her
up to a chair, for she was growing wilful every moment; but
she must be humored. I combed her hair, put on her shoes
and stockings, and in short dressed her. Father came up, and
begged me to hurry, as everybody had come. I sent him for
Ben, who came, with a pale, happy face, and shining eyes.
She looked at him seriously. “I like you best,” she said.
“It is time you said that. Oh Verry! how lovely you are!”
“I feel so.”
“Come, come,” urged father.
“I do not want these gloves,” she said, dropping them.
She kissed it, and he looked as if about to be translated.
“Forever, Verry?”
“Forever.”
“Wait a moment,” I said, “I want a collar,” giving a
glance into the glass. What a starved, thin, haggard face I saw,
with its border of pale hair! Whose were those wide, pitiful,
robbed eyes?
I hurried into the room in advance, to show them their
place, in front of a screen of plants. When they entered, the
company rose, and the ceremony was performed. Veronica's
dress was commented upon, and not approved of; being black,
it was considered ominous. She looked like a `cloud with a
silver lining.' I also made my comments. Temperance, whose
tearful eyes were fixed on her darling, was unconscious
that she had taken from her pocket, and was flourishing,
a large red and yellow silk handkerchief, while the cambric
one she intended to use was neatly folded in her left hand.
She wore the famous plum-colored silk, old style, which had
come into a fortune in the way of wrinkles. A large bow of
black ribbon, testified that she was in mourning. Hepsey rubbed
her thumb across her fingers, with the vacant air of habit.
I glanced at Alice; she was looking intently at Fanny, whose
eyes were fixed upon father. A strange feeling of annoyance
troubled me; but the ceremony was over. Arthur congratulated
himself on having a big brother. Ben was so pale, and
wore so exalted an expression, that he agitated me, almost beyond
control.
After the general shaking of hands, there came retorts for
me. “When shall we have occasion to congratulate you?”
And, “You are almost at the corner.” And, “Your travelling
from home seems only to have been an advantage to Veronica.”
“I tell you, cousin Sue,” said Arthur, who overheard the
last remark, “that you don't know what they say of Cassandra
in Rosville. She's the biggest beauty they ever had, and had
lots of beaus.”
A significant expression passed over cousin Sue's face, which
was noticed by Alice Morgeson, who colored deeply.
“Have you not forgotten?” I asked her.
“It was of you I thought, not myself. I cannot tell you how
utterly the past has gone, or how insignificant the result has
proved.”
“Alice,” said father, “can you carve?”
`Splendidly.”
`Come, and sit at the foot of my table; Mr. Somers will
take charge of the smaller one.”
“With pleasure.”
“Slip out,” whispered Fanny, “and look at the table; Temperance
wants you.”
“For the Lord's sake!” cried Temperance, “say whether
things are ship-shape.”
I was surprised at the taste she had displayed, and told
her so.
“For once I have tried to do my best,” she said; “all for
Verry. Call 'em in; the turkeys will be on in a whiffle.”
Tables were set in the hall, as well as in the dining room.
“They must sit down,” she continued, “so that they may eat
their victuals in peace.” The supper was a relief to Veronica,
and I blessed father's forethought. Nobody was exactly
merry, but there was a proper cheerfulness. Temperance,
Fanny, and Manuel were in attendance; the latter spilled a
good deal of coffee on the carpet, in his enjoyment of the
scene; and when he saw Veronica take the flowers in her hand,
he exclaimed, “Santa Maria!”
Everybody turned to look at him.
“What are you doing here, Manuel?” asked Ben.
“I wait on the Senoritas,” he answered. “Take plum
duff?”
Everybody laughed.
“Do you like widows?” whispered Fanny, at the back of my
chair. I made a sign to her to attend to her business, but, as
she suggested, looked at Alice. At that moment, she and
father were drinking wine together. I thought her handsomer
than ever; she had expanded into a fair, smooth middle age.
The talking and clattering melted vaguely into my ears; I
was a lay-figure in the scene, and my soul wandered elsewhere.
Mr. Somers began to fidget gently, which father perceiving, he
rose from the table. Soon after the guests departed. The remains
of the feast vanished; the fires burnt down; `winding
sheets' wrapped the flame of the candles; and suppressed
gaping set in.
The flowers, left to themselves, began to give out odors
which perfumed the rooms. I went about extinguishing the
waning candles, and stifling the dying fires—finished my
work and was going up stairs, when I heard Veronica playing,
and stopped to listen. It was not a pæan, nor a lament that
she played, but a fluctuating, vibratory air, expressive of mutation.
that she had been playing for herself a farewell, which
freed me from my bond to her. Mr. Somers came along the
hall with a candle, and I waited for him, to ask him if I could
do anything for his comfort.
“My dear,” he said with apprehension, “your sister is
a genius, I think.”
“In music,—yes.”
“What a deplorable thing for a woman!”
“A woman of genius is but a heavenly lunatic, or an anomaly
sphered between the sexes;—do you agree?”
He laughed, and pushed his spectacles up on his forehead.
“My dear, I am astonished that Ben's choice fell as it
did—”
“Good night, Sir,” I said so loudly, that he almost dropped
his candle, and I retired to my room, taking a chair by the
fire, with a sigh of relief. After a while Ben and Veronica
came up.
“It is a cold night,” I remarked.
“I am in an enchanted palace,” said Ben, “where there is
no weather.”
“Cassy, will you take these pins out of my hair?” asked
Verry, seating herself in an easy chair. “Ben, we will excuse
you.”
“How good of you.” He strode across the passage, went
into her room, and shut the door.
“There, Verry, I have unbound your hair.”
“But I want to talk.”
I took her hand, and led her out. She stood before her
door for a moment silently, and then gave a little knock. No
answer came She knocked again; the same silence as before.
At last she was obliged to open it herself, and enter without
any bidding.
“Which will rule?” I thought, as I slipped down the back
stairs, and listened at the kitchen door. I heard nothing.
Finding an old cloak in the entry, I wrapped myself in it and
left the house. The moon was out-riding black, scudding
clouds, and the wind moaned round the sea, which looked like
a vast, wrinkled serpent in the moon-light.
I walked to Gloster Point, and rested under the lee of the
lighthouse, but could not, when I made the attempt, see
to read the inscription inside my watch, by the light of
the lantern. I must have fallen asleep from fatigue, still holding
pale reflection of light in the east, and the sea was creeping
quietly towards it, with a murmuring morning song.
| CHAPTER XXXIX. The Morgesons | |