Whatever my flash of conviction might have been, all suspicions against
Evelyn must have been allayed by the manner in which she received the
information of the loss of the deposits behind the mirror.
Her shrieks filled the house; another physician was hastily summoned in
Dr. Craig's absence, who gave her disease or seizure a Latin name--wrote
a Greek or Hebrew prescription--or something equally unintelligible, and
vanished ghost-like, in the manner most approved of by modern
practitioners.
There was no hard epithet that Evelyn did not apply to Mr. Basil
Bainrothe during her hysterical mania, and before the doctor's arrival;
but, on her recovery, she begged me to repeat nothing of the sort, if
she had been indiscreet enough to let out her true opinion of him and
his measures, in a moment of irrepressible emotion. "For," she pursued,
"it is expedient for us to keep on terms with the man, at least for the
present, and in no way harass or exasperate him--we are completely in
his hands now, Miriam--we must watch our opportunity--"
"I do not see that," I interrupted; "less now than ever, it seems to me.
What more can he do for or against us now? Our property is all
gone--except this house, plate, and furniture, and my mother's
diamonds--all of winch are tangible and visible, and in our own
possession. We have no debts--you pay house-bills monthly, and I,
fortunately, have just settled off every account I have in the world,
and have five hundred Spanish dollars to start anew with--my savings
during papa's lifetime. I hoarded it, fortunately, in this form for a
missionary purpose you remember, Evelyn, but afterward changed my mind."
"Yes, I remember; merely because the person it was intended for prayed
that the Jews might finally be exterminated."
"Was not that enough, Evelyn? The man who could utter such a prayer was
no Christian, and unfit for religious teaching. Since then I have come
to the conclusion that there is a great deal of undue and very
impertinent meddling with the heathen; who are entitled to their own
mode of worship as well as of government, and who I think are not yet
ripe for Christianity."
"You have strange notions, Miriam; you talk like an old French
philosopher."
"I never knew there was such a thing--a French sophist I am afraid you
mean. No, I am not a sophist, Evelyn; any thing else than that! I wish
sometimes I did not see so clearly. I love, I idolize the truth alone!"
She colored--sighed. God knows I was not thinking of her at that moment,
or speaking with that reference, however I may have had reason to do so.
Is it not strange that our dreams often present to us, in our own
despite, the vivid, photographic pictures struck by sleep from the dim,
unconscious negative of our waking judgment, which we refuse to
recognize as verities in the light of our open-eyed, daytime
responsibility? I, who had declared myself no sophist, knew later that I
had deceived my own heart, which spoke out so truthfully in dreams of
sleep, and refused to be silenced in the dead hour of night, however I
might stifle its suggestions by day.
In one of these suggestive, or rather reflected, visions, I saw Evelyn
groping through darkness to the side-gate which gave into the grounds of
Mr. Bainrothe from our own, made years before by my father's permission
for the convenience of his friend; the night was a dark and stormy one,
yet she went forth alone, or seemed to, in my vision, to seek a man she
detested, and with him connive the destruction of the fortunes of the
child of her benefactress, whose confidence she abused.
Then I saw them returning together, through that pantry-door which she
had left unbolted, though locked when she went out by another egress,
and which the man, who returned with her, readily unlocked with the
duplicate key he carried, _not_ by my father's permission. This last I
knew.
Now the scene was changed to the dining-room. Again I saw the mirror
swing back on its invisible and noiseless hinges, and now the glare of a
shaded lamp fell in bands of light across its surface. But I was inside
this time, by the glamour of my dream, and I saw them emptying the open
chest painfully, laboriously, stealthily; stopping now and then to
listen, to breathe, again working silently, industriously, at their
vocation of theft and crime!
At last all seemed accomplished. A large, covered basket was partially
loaded with the contents--heavy as lead--and, between them, they bore it
out into the storm and darkness again, and I heard the sound of the
spade and mattock at work on the graveled road.
Presently Evelyn came in again. Her air was wild and frightened; her
trembling hands were stained with mud, seen by the light of the lantern
she bore, and which she again hung in its accustomed place, stealing
quietly away into the darkened hall, to grope her way up-stairs. All
this while the farce of sending for Dr. Craig was being enacted, and
Morton was out on his fruitless mission in the rain!
Again it was morning, and I saw them together in the library, while I
still slept, consulting, planning, plotting, writing, erasing,
whispering; soon to separate, however, this time. Their arrangements
being completed without restraint, for again the old man was absent,
doing the duties of another, who, knowing not the motive of such request
or bribe, was content to work the will of a conspirator, and pass the
day in idleness at home, for the sake of a purse of gold. Here ended my
clairvoyance, if such it was.
All this may have been imaginary--part of it probably was--but the sense
of the dream was no doubt what my untrammeled judgment would have
suggested as truth, and what later--but let me not digress or anticipate
here, in the thickest of my troubles, the jungle-pass of my story as it
were, but strike on through a self-made path, it may be, to the light
that shines beyond the forest, even if it lead into the desert!
Something in Evelyn's suggestion had struck me as the best to pursue
under the circumstances, although at first I so boldly repudiated the
idea of Mr. Bainrothe's power. Unless I could prove that he had removed
the treasure for unworthy uses--why speak of it at all? I should only
irritate and set him on his guard by such allusions; whereas, by a
course of reticence, I still might learn, as she had suggested, the
truth when he least suspected my purpose.
It would be so easy for him to deny all knowledge of the concealed
chest--so easy to lay the robbery on Morton, even if the first were
proved--or even on Evelyn!
I had sent impulsively for Mr. Bainrothe to come to me on the evening
of my discovery, but his visit was delayed by a necessity that kept him
from home all night, so that I had time to revolve and resolve on my
course of action before I saw him, which was not until the following
afternoon, and by this time my mind had undergone a change. He came, but
not alone--his son accompanied him.
I have reason since then to think that Evelyn and Claude Bainrothe had
met before their cold and measured interview in my presence. It was to
me a painful and embarrassing one, and this time the graceful ease was
all on the other side--I was preoccupied and agitated, Claude courteous
and self-possessed, Evelyn lofty and confident, as though she had lived
or trodden down her emotions, and, to my surprise, Mr. Basil Bainrothe
wore his accustomed deliberate and self-poised demeanor, making no
reference, not even by his expression of face or a glance of his
kaleidoscopic eyes, to the sad catastrophe with which by this time I was
but too well acquainted.
I had been reading newspapers eagerly all day, when he came, and, from a
contradictory mass of evidence, had gleaned some grains of truth. One
fact was beyond contradiction--a second Samson had drawn down the ruins
of a temple, not on the heads of his foes alone, but his friends as
well, blinded, as he of old, by the treachery of that basest of all
Delilahs, a fawning public!
Yes, we were ruined; the only hope now was in the honesty of Mr. Basil
Bainrothe. Should the gold I saw him hiding away not have been
appropriated to the purchase of bank-stocks--should it have been saved
for me--we might still rejoice in wealth beyond our deserts, and equal
to our desires.
We still might keep the old, beloved roof above our heads, preserve one
unbroken circle of family domestics--live without labor, or terror of
the future. But would this be? I waited, as I still think I should have
done, for Mr. Bainrothe to take the initiative in this proceeding.
Impatient and sick-hearted, I saw day after day glide past, without an
effort on his part to explain or ameliorate my condition--one now of
excessive and wearing anxiety.
At last he came. For the first time in his life when a matter of
business was in question, he asked for me. I went to him alone at my own
instance, and somewhat to Evelyn's chagrin, I thought.
I found him in the library, of late our sole receiving-room; the rest
were closed and fireless. For, since the certainty of our misfortune, we
had received no society, and would not long be obliged to _decline_ it,
Evelyn thought. Her opinion of the world little justified the pains she
had taken to conciliate it.
I found Mr. Bainrothe buried in the deep reading-chair, always in his
lifetime occupied by my father, his hand supporting his head, his hat
and delicate ivory-headed cane thrown carelessly on the floor beside
him--his whole attitude one of deep dejection.
He started a little when I addressed him by name, as if reviving from
deep reverie--then arose and extended his hand to me, grasping mine
firmly when I gave it to him, which I did unwillingly I confess.
"Miriam," he said, "this is all very dreadful!" subsiding into his seat
again with a groan, and looking steadily and silently into the fire for
some minutes afterward. "Very dreadful!" he repeated, shaking his head
dismally; "wholly unforeseen!"
He glanced at me furtively once or twice to observe the effect of his
words--his manner. Disappointed probably by my silence and coolness, he
again affected to be absorbed in contemplation.
"Have we any thing left?" I asked quietly, at last--weary as I was of
this histrionic performance of his, and anxious for the truth.
"Nothing," was the gloomy reply that fell on my ear--on my heart like
molten lead; "nothing but what you know of. This house, this furniture,
well preserved it is true, but old and out of style. Your carriage and
horses--diamonds--in short, what you have in hand. That is all you have
left of the great estate of your mother."
"It is enough to keep the wolf from the door, at all events," I remarked
quietly, "and I am thankful for a bare competence; but why, under
existing circumstances, were you in such haste to remove the contents of
the iron chest behind the mirror, a portion of which you added to in
September?"
He rose with dignity and advanced to the corner of the mantel-shelf, on
which he leaned in a perfectly self-possessed position, one foot crossed
lightly over the other, I remember, and one hand at his side--a favorite
attitude of his. He interrupted my interrogatory with another, ever an
effectual aid in browbeating.
"How did you become possessed of the knowledge that I kept gold there?"
he asked, coolly; "I had meant to have preserved the secret of that
spring until your majority, but you women penetrate every thing. No, my
dear Miriam," he continued, without waiting for an answer,
"unfortunately, the gold you refer to was exchanged for worthless
bank-stocks in September last, according to the requisitions of your
father's will; and, as that was the latest paid in of the loans he had
made, and as all other means had been invested in like manner (and with
a promptness characteristic of me, I believe I may say without vanity),
as they fell into my hands. You will perceive, very clearly, that every
thing, beyond the property I have here pointed out to you, is swept
away."
I sat confounded by his consummate mendacity. His manner was entirely
changed now--from one of gloomy depression, and absence of mind, to
jaunty self-complacency, and even a degree of defiance was blended with
his habitual coolness. It was only from his lurid and kaleidoscopic
eyes, on which the light from an opposite window fell sharply, as he was
speaking, that a glimpse of the inner man could be obtained. There was
something confused and excited in their expression that did not escape
me, but I kept my counsel, bewildered as I was.
"She has betrayed me!" was my involuntary reflection; "he was on his
guard for my question or accusation; unconscious of my daily
examination, he has borne away my gold, and it is lost to me forever!"
And I clasped my hands more closely.
All that I have stated in the last two paragraphs, of my observation and
reflections, passed through my mind like a flash--so that there seemed
scarce a momentary interruption between his last remarks and those which
followed--although so much had been recognized in the interval.
"It is unfortunate--" I said, merely eying him calmly.
For the first time during our interview, his eyes
quivered--drooped--fell before mine; but, recovering instantly, he gave
me a clear, cool stare in return for the quiet look of scorn he
encountered. I saw at once the hopeless nature of the case.
"You will show me your accounts, Mr. Bainrothe," I observed, haughtily;
"I require this at least!"
"When you have attained your majority, certainly, Miriam, not before. At
present, I have only Evelyn Erle to satisfy on that score, and the law;
I refer you to your guardian."
"Or whomsoever I choose to substitute as my guardian," I said; "I
believe that privilege vests in me, being over eighteen."
"There are outside provisions in your father's will that debar you,
unfortunately, from that usual privilege of minors of your age," he
rejoined, quietly. "I regret this for many reasons: I should be glad to
quiet any doubts you may entertain at once, but it is impossible that,
compatibly with self-respect, I can do this, after what you have
insinuated this morning; so you must wait, with what patience you can
command, for the coming of your majority."
"Nearly two years to wait!" I cried; "I should die before then, if only
of impatience. No, I will know at once. I will write to Mr. Gerald
Stanbury--I will go to the president of the bank--nay, to Mr. Biddle
himself. I will resolve this matter."
"You will do no such thing, my very dear young friend," said Mr.
Bainrothe, advancing and laying his hand lightly on my arm--I shook it
off, as if it had been a cold, crawling serpent. He retreated quietly
but quickly. "You will do no such thing, Miriam," he repeated, resuming
his post by the mantel-shelf, without evincing the least discomposure at
my behavior to him; "your own good sense, your own good feeling will
come to your assistance when you look this matter fully in the face, and
dispassionately, which I must say you are not doing now. I have not
earned at your hands mistrust and obloquy like this, Miriam; but, for
the sake of the past, I shall strive and bear with the present. Who has
inspired you with such opinions of me?"
Accomplished hypocrite! He tried to assume a much-injured air, to mingle
forbearance with his reproachful words; but my heart was as hard toward
him as a nether millstone, and his words made no impression on my flinty
feelings, not even enough to strike fire therefrom, or sparks.
"No one," I replied, "no one; I judge for myself in all instances. Why
did you secrete gold in the dead hour of the night, which, unless you
bore it away in the same mysterious, or even more subtle manner, ought
still to be in its hiding-place? Why did you preserve, even from Evelyn,
your knowledge of that retreat, and the payment of the loan, which she
asserts you have never communicated to her, from first to last? Why make
mysteries of business transactions which, by the tenor of my father's
will, she had a right to participate in, and be consulted about. Why?"
"I will tell you," he interrupted, gravely, and not without emotion.
"Pause, and I will explain my reasons, painful as it is to me to do
this, and greatly as I compromise myself by so doing, for, should you
choose to be indiscreet, I shall have gained a dangerous enemy. I have
no confidence in Evelyn Erie, in her truth, her sincerity, her honesty,
even. I would not place temptation in her way. There, that is why I
concealed the secrets of the spring-lock and recess in the wall from
her, to secure them for you. As to the depositing of gold in that iron
chest, I did it simply because I knew of no other place so safe and
secret. In my own house none such exists, and, as I never kept gold for
more than a few days after it was received, I thought it scarcely worth
while to place it in the vaults of the bank. As I tell you, it was
removed in September."
Surely no art was ever greater of its kind than that he manifested on
this trying occasion, yet it fell to the earth, like the shedding scales
of a serpent, before my simple discernment. Yet his words, his manner,
did in some strange and unexplained way greatly exonerate Evelyn in my
estimation, at least for a time, of complicity.
How could I consistently believe that two persons, entertaining of each
other such similar and degrading opinions, could trust one another
sufficiently to become confederates? Alas! I did not reflect that it is
of such conflicting elements conspirators and conspiracies themselves
are usually made, and that union of guilt creates eternal enmity.
I could not penetrate such depths of guile! I surrendered myself
readily, I confess, to these fresh convictions. Evelyn was narrow,
selfish, scheming, but, at all events, was not in league with this
vampire. That was much. We might still make common cause against
him--she with her injuries to avenge, I with mine--and preserve intact,
and without his hated interference, that which was left to us at least.
There was comfort in the thought.
While these considerations were photographing themselves on my brain,
with that indescribable rapidity of process whereby the action of the
mind excels even that of light, Mr. Bainrothe was again settling himself
down in my father's deep chair, and now once more addressed me in a sad
and broken voice, perfectly well suited to the occasion.
"Miriam," he said, "I too have been an extensive loser through the
failure of the Bank of Pennsylvania. Like yourself, with the exception
of the house I now reside in, and some few small tenements I hold for
rent, I find every thing swept away from me. Claude, it is true, is
comfortable, and on his slender estate we must both now manage to
support ourselves. You see marriage on his part is now simply out of the
question. He has his father to take care of."
He said this last in so significant a tone, and apologetic a manner,
that its intent was unmistakable, little dreaming how transparent my
conviction of his crime had made his motives.
"As far as I am concerned, it was so eighteen months ago," I responded,
and the blood rushed indignantly to my brow. "Yet I hope," I added,
after a moment's hesitation, "that Claude may still marry and be happy."
"You are still vexed with that boy of mine, Miriam, I see that. Oh, you
are wrong, there! It was not for him, unfledged and inexperienced, to
weigh the precious diamond against the paste pretense! He could not see
you with the eyes of riper judgment and deep feeling accorded to those
who have studied life, and learned its loftiest lessons. Had he looked
through my eyes, Miriam--" (he was standing before me now, his arms
extended, his eyes blazing, his cheeks and lips strangely aglow), "he
would have seen you as you are, the rose, the ruby of the world." He
seized my hand impetuously, and pressed it to his lips, then rushed
wildly away. A moment later, he returned, silently. I was standing
before the silver cistern, I remember, washing away with my handkerchief
an invisible stain from my hand, child-fashion, a loathsome impress,
when I felt his audacious arms thrown suddenly around me, and his hot,
polluting kisses on my face.
"I love--I love you!" he hissed in my ear, "and sooner or later I will
possess you!"
Before I could strike him, spit upon him, strangle him with my
hands--the thief, the midnight robber, the slave of lust--he was gone
again. I heard my own wild shrieks resounding through the house, like
those of some strange lunatic. I was for a time frantic with rage and
shame. But no one came to my succor, except poor old Morton. He crept
feebly from the pantry, and found me sobbing in my father's chair. As he
stood meekly before me, leaning on his staff, and looking in my face, my
only friend, so powerless to aid, the whole desolateness of my position
burst upon me, like an overpowering avalanche, I bowed my head and wept.
"Bear up, bear up, my lamb," he said, in his weak, tremulous voice; "we
have the promise of the Lord to rely on. Has he not said the seed of the
just man should never know want or beg bread? We must believe in the
Gospel, and be strengthened, Miss Miriam."
And he laid his quivering hand lightly on my head. I took it between
both of my own, and kissed it fervently, bathing it with my tears.
"Morton," I said, "dear old Morton, I have had such a terrible blow to
bear--shame!" and again I was choked with sobs.
"Shame! Oh, no, my dear young mistress! my birdie child; ruin is not
shame! This could never come near a Monfort, poor or rich! See! such as
these old hands are, they shall work for you to the bone, and, if I
understand matters aright, we still have the good roof left over our
heads, and some little means for all immediate wants. God will put some
good thought in your mind before long. Consult with Miss Evelyn; she is
wise. You are not the first high-born young ladies who have had to teach
a school."
"Oh, bless you, bless you, Morton, for the thought!"
All idea of telling him (helpless, as he was, to avenge it) of the
degrading treatment I had received was now laid at rest, and the
practical good sense of a suggestion, that, if successfully carried out,
would take us so completely out of the hands of Mr. Bainrothe, and
insure such complete independence, was felt at once.
At a glance I saw the expediency as well as the feasibility of the
scheme.
Our large and secluded establishment was well fitted for a
boarding-school. Our father's spotless name, and our undeserved
misfortunes, were calculated to enlist popular respect and sympathy.
Evelyn's decided manners and liberal accomplishments, my better
principles and more solid attainments (I viewed things with the naked
eye of truth that day, and thus the balance was struck in its rapid
survey), might all be brought to bear on our new vocation.
"This is the very thing for us to do, Morton," I said, after a pause,
wiping my eyes, and smiling up into his dear, old, withered face, "I
will acquaint Evelyn with it before I sleep. Ay, and with other matters
as well," I added, mentally. "God help me now!--upon her verdict every
thing depends."
I met Mabel on the stairway as I ascended to my chamber. She hung about
my neck, in a childish way she had, and kissed me fondly. Perhaps she
had observed my agitated face, in which many emotions contended,
probably (as in my heart), but I only said, "Let me pass now,
darling!--One thing will," I thought, "be secure, under the
contemplated circumstances--your welfare and education, whatever else
betide--beautiful, and good as an angel, you shall be wise as well."
"Oh! I forgot to tell you, sister Miriam," she cried, running up-stairs,
after we had parted, "Evelyn has gone out, and left this note for you;"
and she placed one in my hand, adding:
"Mr. Claude Bainrothe was here, while you were in the library with his
father, and they went away together."
"Where did she receive him, Mabel?--the parlors are closed, you know."
"Yes, but she was all ready when he came. It was an appointment, I think
he said, to take a walk, and he stood at the front-door, until she went
down, only five minutes, sister Miriam. He did not mind it at all. He
sent her up the letter he had brought from the office, and she read it
out loud to Mrs. Austin. I was there--it was very short."
"What letter, Mabel?"
"Oh, about her aunt! This note tells you, I suppose. Evelyn is rich now;
but she had to go to New York to see the lawyer, so Mr. Claude Bainrothe
said, before she could claim the fortune."
More and more bewildered, I made haste to tear open the sealed note
which Mabel had given me. Its contents were scanty, and not fully
satisfactory.
"MY DEAR MIRIAM: The ways of Providence are truly strange and
inscrutable, and its balance ever shifting. This morning I rose in
despair, to-night I shall lie down rejoicing; for a way is again opened
to us that will put it beyond _his_ power to annoy or oppress us
further. God knows we have both suffered enough, already, at his hands!
My maiden aunt, Lady Frances Pomfret, is dead, and makes me her heir. I
will show you the lawyer's letter when I return. The legacy is spoken of
in the letter as small, because English people compute property so
differently from ourselves. The attorney lives in New York, who is
empowered by my aunt's English executor to transact this business, and
it seems I; must go to him, Mohammed-like, as this mountain cannot come
to me.
"Claude Bainrothe is polite enough to offer to escort me to the boat,
which I shall barely reach in time; so, farewell for the present, dear
Miriam. I shall stay with Emma Gilroy, and return in a very few days.
Write to me, however, if I should be detained, to her father's care, and
keep a good heart, until the return of your fortunate
"EVELYN.
"P.S.--You know it is little matter, between sisters, which possesses
the property, so all share it. E."
Claude Bainrothe called that afternoon, and placed in my hand the copy
of the codicil that had been sent to Evelyn, together with the lawyer's
letter to which she had alluded, and which, on consulting with him, she
found it unnecessary to take with her to New York, her identity being
already established, beyond a doubt, with that of the legatee, in the
eyes of the American agent in possession of all the facts of the case
from the London attorney. I examined the codicil closely, and could find
no flaw! It purported to be the last will of the Lady Frances Pomfret,
who revoked all other bequests, in order to bestow her whole property on
her niece, Evelyn Erle.
I confess I had felt some doubts as to the existence at all of such a
person, of whom I had never before heard mention made, until I read her
last bequest, and saw with my own eyes the business-like letter,
confirming the whole transaction of Mr. James Mainwaring, the London
attorney, with its foreign post-mark, and huge office seal. This was
accompanied by one from a legal gentleman of New York, whose name was
familiar to me, as my father's agent, and which confirmed the truth of
the matter in the most effectual way; for, in his letter, Evelyn was
advised to come to New York and receive her legacy.
There was nothing more to be said, certainly; still I had strange
misgivings even then, which I felt to be both unjust and ungenerous, yet
could not wholly banish, and again I examined the codicil.
Claude Bainrothe smiled; it was the first time, let me state _en
passant_, that we had found ourselves alone together since his return.
"You scrutinize that will as if you were a legal flaw-finder, Miss
Monfort, instead of a very confiding young lady of poetical
proclivities."
"It is very short!" I said, sententiously, comparing at the same time
the handwriting with that of Mr. Mainwaring, who had in his letter
declared himself the copyist, the original codicil remaining in his
hands, together with the will it had annulled, and finding them the same
unmistakably.
"Short, but sweet," he remarked curtly, yet smiling again, and extending
his hand for it. "I suppose one of Earl Pomfret's children had trodden
on the tail of the old maid's poodle--she lived with him it seems--and
offended her beyond repair, or something similar had occurred, to make
her change her intentions, which were at first all in his favor, and
revoke her first bequest."
"Mr. Mainwaring does not say so," I remarked, again glancing over his
letter. "He merely observes that it is only important to send a copy of
the codicil, since it revokes all previous bequests. How did you know
her first intentions--have there been other letters?"
"I suppose so," he replied, coloring slightly, "but what a lawyer you
are! I scarcely know how I got the idea, to be frank with you; it may be
incorrect after all, but Evelyn will tell you every thing, of course,
when she comes."
"Let me see the codicil again, Mr. Bainrothe," and I examined it once
more closely, as if by some fascination I could not resist. I remarked
only one peculiarity in the document. One word was written in a cramped
manner, as though space had been wanting--yet much of the sheet of paper
on which it appeared was unoccupied--this was the word "thirty," at the
beginning of the enumeration of moneys, for thirty thousand pounds
(repeated below in figures) was the sum set forth in the codicil as the
bequest of the Lady Frances Pomfret to her niece Evelyn Erle! The five
numerals that represented the same idea as the written words occupied
half of the last portion of the last line, and seemed to my invidious
eyes to make an ostentatious display of the power that may lie in a
cipher, or an array thereof.
I gloated over the record, with something perhaps of that spirit which
may have lurked in my blood, from the time of Jacob, and which, so far,
had not evinced itself, except perhaps on that occasion when my ear
thrilled to the music of falling gold.
As I gazed, I mused on the strange fate that took from one sister to
enrich the other so providentially, as it might have seemed.
The paper had fallen from my nerveless hand before I knew it, and I was
aroused from reverie by Claude's action in stooping for it, and his
voice saying:
"I will fold up this record, Miriam; it seems to render you gloomy."
"Thoughtful, certainly," I said, recovering myself, with that impulse of
self-command that belonged to me by nature; "no more--not envious,
Claude, I assure you, however appearances may be against me."
"Of such a feeling no one could suspect Miriam Monfort," he said,
gallantly; whispering low in the next moment, "one year has made strange
improvement in your beauty, Miriam--you are hardly the same little dark,
quick, yet quiet girl, I parted with when I went to Copenhagen. There is
so much more pose and majesty--more sweetness about you now--and Evelyn
too is changed--oh! sadly--sadly!"
"I have sometimes feared," I said, keeping down, as best I might; the
emotions conflicting in my bosom--"feared that she might be delicate,
and that her energies consumed her; you must control these, Claude!"
"I!--why, what on earth can I have to do with Miss Erle and her
energies? you speak in enigmas, Miriam!"
He was evidently embarrassed by the cool, incredulous look I dropped
upon him. "I had supposed every thing was settled some time ago," I
observed, quietly; "however, I will not bore you with conjectures or
questions, I shall hear every thing, of course, when the proper time
comes; until then, I shall hope to act out Milton's noble line, and
'stand and wait.' And now, if you have a few minutes to spare, do give
me the _résumé_ of your experience at Copenhagen. What of the
climate--what of the people--what of the court? Are the women pretty or
plain, as a general thing--and had Hamlet light or dark hair, think you,
from present indications in the royal family? Or is it the same blood?
For you know that I have an enthusiasm about Denmark! It is such a
little, valiant, fiery, dominant state, and their _sagas_ of the
sea-kings set my blood on flame. This always was a weakness of mine, you
remember."
"Yes, I recollect perfectly how you used to run on about Elsinore. Well,
I went there frequently, Miriam, and can tell you all about the dreary,
decayed old town, to your utmost satisfaction. Even your romance would
fail, could you behold it now."
And Claude evinced considerable power, as a word-painter, in the hour
that followed, during the early part of which Mabel appeared at the
door, was silently beckoned in by me, to remain a quiet and delighted
listener, almost to the end of the interview, when Mrs. Austin suddenly
summoned her away; and again Claude Bainrothe and I were left for a few
minutes _tête-à-tête_. When my visitor departed, or rose to do so, we
shook hands frankly; and I thought, on the whole, he seemed grateful for
my mode of treatment, and the interest I had shown in his narrative--so
entire a proof of the disinterested nature of my feelings, could he only
have thought so! It had probably been his intention to test and probe
them in the beginning, and he had succeeded.
He lingered a moment, however, on the threshold, gazing at me earnestly.
"Miriam," he said, reëntering and closing the door, "Miriam, I wish I
could be certain of your friendship. I may put it to fiery proof before
long. Can I rely on you to support me then?"
"Claude," I rejoined, gravely, "if I can assist you in any useful or
honorable way, I shall be glad to do so, on general principles alone.
You did not respond fairly to my friendly manifestations in times past,
after--after a certain explanation, and the impulse has died away since
then, I confess. Our future lives can have very little in common, I
imagine."
"Would you not help me to break a loathed chain?" he asked, almost
fiercely. "Bonds are often forced upon a man," he continued, "by the
very reason of his superior strength. It is so hard to resist a pleading
woman! O Miriam! more than any one living, I respect--revere--love--yes,
love you. Pity me! You can assign no secondary reasons now to
professions like these. You are no longer rich--no longer--"
"Miss Kilmansegg, with the golden leg," I interrupted, derisively.
"Truly you surprise me."
"O Miriam! how can you treat me with such heartless levity?" and he
wrung his hands bitterly. "I am pushed to desperation already. I never
knew, until I lost you, what you were to me; how superior to all other
women, how pure, how unworldly, how strong, how rich in all mental and
womanly endowments! Hear me, Miriam," and he attempted to take my hand,
an error of which he was soon made conscious.
"Claude Bainrothe," I said, sternly, "I can tolerate you on one
condition alone--that you respect me. You cease to do this, you, the
betrothed husband of another woman! the moment you sully my ear with
your addresses, your effusions of sentiment. They are no more, I know;
but even these I will not endure from you, nor yet from--" I hesitated;
a hated name had risen to my lips, but I repressed it. He, the son,
surely was not the father's keeper.
"You do me injustice; before Heaven, you do!" he exclaimed, flinging
back his long curling locks impetuously, by a toss of his superb head,
and bending his blazing eyes upon me. "Hear me, Miriam, I hold the clew
to a secret by means of which I can compel wealth to flow back to your
feet, in the old channels, if you will be mine. You would not have
thought this condition hard a year ago. What has occurred to change you?
You loved me then--by Heaven you love me still! Oh, say so, Miriam, and
make me doubly blessed! Am I deceived in the expression of that beaming
eye? You will pardon, bless me;" and he knelt humbly at my feet, and
clasped my hand.
"Rise, Claude," I said, "and forgive me if a momentary feeling of
triumph, that may have lit my eye, was mingled with the feeling of
entire emancipation from all past weakness, which this hour so surely
proves, and so satisfactorily, to my own spirit. You are to me like any
other stranger."
He was standing sullenly before me now, his head dropping on his breast,
his hands loosely clasped before him.
"You are deceived," I pursued, calmly, "if you imagine from any
expression of mine that one ray of love survives the ruin of other days.
I told you the truth when I said all was over between us forever. Did
you suppose me a woman to sit down in the ashes because one man--one
woman of all God's manifold creation--had proved false, or treacherous,
or ungrateful? I should have wronged my youth, my soul, my descent, my
God, had I so yielded. Go and fulfill your contract faithfully this
time; a second rupture might not go so well with you as the first. There
are persons who are singularly tenacious of their possessions, and who
number their bondsmen as a principal portion of their property. Beware
how you anger such! Your father too. He would be conciliated now, by
what would once have incensed him. Evelyn Erie is rich, Miriam Monfort
is poor; why need I add another word? The suggestion is perfect."
Coldly, silently, angrily, he left the room. I heard him stamp
impatiently at the hall-door, at some delay apparently in undoing its
fastenings--his childish habit when provoked--such was his haste to be
gone.
Yet I could scarcely judge, from what had just occurred, taking this,
too, in connection with what had passed long before, when I alone was
the injured and forgiving one, that I had drawn down upon my head his
eternal enmity.
But thus it proved.