A woman came into the balcony with a swift step, and paused there, as if
disappointed to find it deserted. A woman in the midsummer of her life,
brilliant, strong, and stately; clad in something dusky and diaphanous,
unrelieved by any color, except the pale gold of the laburnum clusters,
that drooped from deep bosom and darkest hair. Pride sat on the
forehead, with its straight black brows, passion slept in the Southern
eyes, lustrous or languid by turns, and will curved the closely folded
lips of vivid red.
But over all this beauty, energy, and grace an indescribable blight
seemed to have fallen, deeper than the loss of youth’s first freshness,
darker than the trace of any common sorrow. Something felt, rather than
seen, which gave her the air of a dethroned queen; conquered, but
protesting fiercely, even while forced to submit to some inexorable
decree, whose bitterest pang was the knowledge that the wrong was
self-inflicted.
As she stood there, looking down the green vista, two figures crossed
it. A smile curved the sad mouth, and she said aloud, “Faust and
Margaret, playing the old, old game.”
“And Mephistopheles and Martha looking on,” added a melodious voice,
behind her, as Helwyze swept back the half-transparent curtain from the
long window where he sat.
“The part you give me is not a flattering one,” she answered, veiling
mingled pique and pleasure with well-feigned indifference.
“Nor mine; yet I think they suit us both, in a measure. Do you know,
Olivia, that the accidental reading of my favorite tragedy, at a certain
moment, gave me a hint which has afforded amusement for a year.”
“You mean your fancy for playing Mentor to that boy. A dangerous task
for you, Jasper.”
“The danger is the charm. I crave excitement, occupation; and what but
something of this sort is left me? Much saving grace in charity, we are
told; and who needs it more than I? Surely I have been kinder to Felix
than the Providence which left him to die of destitution and despair?”
“Perhaps not. The love of power is strong in men like you, and grows by
what it feeds on. If I am not mistaken, this whim of a moment has
already hardened into a purpose which will mould his life in spite of
him. It is an occupation that suits your taste, for you enjoy his beauty
and his promise; you like to praise and pamper him till vanity and love
of pleasure wax strong, then you check him with an equal satisfaction,
and find excitement in curbing his high spirit, his wayward will. By
what tie you hold him I cannot tell; but I know it must be something
stronger than gratitude, for, though he chafes against the bond, he
_dares_ not break it.”
“Ah, that is my secret! What would you not give if I would teach you the
art of taming men as I once taught you to train a restive horse?”—and
Helwyze looked out at her with eyes full of malicious merriment.
“You have taught me the art of taming a woman; is not that enough?”
murmured Olivia, in a tone that would have touched any man’s heart with
pity, if with no tenderer emotion.
But Helwyze seemed not to hear the reproach, and went on, as if the
other topic suited his mood best.
“I call Canaris my Greek slave, sometimes, and he never knows whether to
feel flattered or insulted. His father was a Greek adventurer, you know
(ended tragically, I suspect), and but for the English mother’s legacy
of a trifle of moral sense, Felix would be as satisfactory a young
heathen as if brought straight from ancient Athens. It was this peculiar
mixture of unscrupulous daring and fitful virtue which attracted me, as
much as his unusual beauty and undoubted talent. Money can buy almost
any thing, you know; so I bought my handsome Alcibiades, and an
excellent bargain I find him.”
“But when you tire of him, what then? You cannot sell him again, nor
throw him away, like a book you weary of. Neither can you leave him
neglected in the lumber-room, with distasteful statues or bad pictures.
Affection, if you have it, will not outlast your admiration, and I have
much curiosity to know what will become of your ‘handsome Alcibiades’
then.”
“Then, my cousin, I will give him to you, for I have fancied of late
that you rather coveted him. You could not manage him now,—the savage in
him is not quite civilized yet,—but wait a little, and I will make a
charming plaything for you. I know you will treat him kindly, since it
is truly said, Those who have served, best know how to rule.”
The sneer stung her deeply, for there was no humiliation this proud
woman had not suffered at the hands of a brutal and unfaithful husband.
Pity was as bitter a draught to her as to the man who thus cruelly
reminded her of the long bondage which had left an ineffaceable blight
upon her life. The wound bled inwardly, but she retaliated, as only such
a woman could.
“Love is the one master who can rule and bind without danger or
disgrace. I shall remember that, and when you give me Felix he will find
me a gentler mistress than I was ten years ago—to you.”
The last words dropped from her lips as softly as if full of tender
reminiscence, but they pricked pride, since they could not touch a
relentless heart. Helwyze betrayed it by the sombre fire of his eye, the
tone in which he answered.
“And I will ask of you the only gift I care to accept,—your new
_protégée_, Gladys. Tell me where you found her; the child interests me
much.”
“I know it;” and, stifling a pang of jealous pain, Olivia obeyed with
the docility of one in whom will was conquered by a stronger power.
“A freak took me to the hills in March. My winter had been a vain chase
after happiness, and I wanted solitude. I found it where chance led
me,—in this girl’s home. A poor, bleak place enough; but it suited me,
for there were only the father and daughter, and they left me to myself.
The man died suddenly, and no one mourned, for he was a selfish tyrant.
The girl was left quite alone, and nearly penniless, but so happy in her
freedom that she had no fears. I liked the courage of the creature; I
knew how she felt; I saw great capacity for something fine in her. I
said, ‘Come with me for a little, and time will show you the next step.’
She came; time has shown her, and the next step will take her from my
house to yours, unless I much mistake your purpose.”
Leaning in the low, lounging chair, Helwyze had listened motionless,
except that the fingers of one thin hand moved fitfully, as if he played
upon some instrument inaudible to all ears but his own. A frequent
gesture of his, and most significant, to any one who knew that his
favorite pastime was touching human heart-strings with marvellous
success in producing discords by his uncanny skill.