UNREQUITED LOVE.
The Duke of Cumbervale, weary of a sleepless pillow, arose early and
rang his bell, startling his gentlemanly valet from his morning
slumbers; dressed himself with monsieur's assistance, and went down
stairs with the intention of taking a walk before the family should be
up.
But his intention was forestalled by the appearance of Mr. Rockharrt
coming out of his chamber on the opposite side of the hall.
The Iron King looked up in some surprise at the apparition of his guest
at so early an hour; but quickly composed himself as he gave him the
matutinal salutation:
"Ah, good morning, duke. An early riser, like myself, eh? Come down
into the library with me, and let us look over the morning papers."
A cheerful coal fire was burning in the grate, a very acceptable comfort
on this chill November morning.
This was one of the happy days when there is "nothing in the
papers"--that is to say, nothing interesting, absorbing, soul harrowing,
in the form of financial ruin, highway robbery, murder, arson, fire, or
flood. Everything in the world at the present brief hour seemed going on
well, consequently the papers were very dull, flat, stale and
unprofitable, and were soon laid aside by the host and his guest, and
they fell into conversation.
"You took a long walk yesterday, I hear--went across in the ferry boat,
and strolled up to the foot of Scythia's Roost."
"I did. Can you tell me anything about that curious spot?"
"No; nothing but that it was the dwelling of an Indian woman, who
pretended to second sight, and who should have been sent to the State's
prison as a felon, or, at the very least, to the madhouse as a lunatic.
She was burned out, or perhaps burned herself out, and vanished on the
same night that Governor Rothsay disappeared. She was in some way
cognizant of a plot against him that would prevent him from ever
entering upon the duties of his office. I, in my capacity as magistrate,
issued a warrant for her arrest, but it was too late. She was gone. It
is said by some people that she is a Mexican Indian, who had been very
beautiful in her youth, and who had become infatuated with an English
tourist who admired her to such a degree that he married her--according
to the rites of her nation. He was a false hearted caitiff, if he was an
English lord. Having committed the folly of marrying the Indian woman,
he should have been true to her--made the best of the bad bargain.
Instead of which he grew tired of her, and finally abandoned her."
"Did he return to his native country, do you know?"
"He did not. She never gave him time. She went mad after he left her,
followed him to New Orleans and tomahawked him on the steamboat. She was
tried for murder, acquitted on the ground of insanity, and sent to a
lunatic asylum. After a time she was discharged, or she escaped. It is
not known which; most probably she escaped, as she certainly was not
cured. She was as mad as a March hare all the time she lived here; but
as she was harmless--comparatively harmless--it seemed nobody's business
to have her shut up! And as I said, when at last I thought it was time
to have her arrested on a charge of vagrancy, it was too late. She had
fled."
"Why do you suspect that she had some knowledge of a plot to make away
with the governor-elect?"
"I suspect that she was in the plot. Developments have led me to the
conclusion. By these I learned that Rothsay was not murdered, as his
friends feared, nor abducted, as some persons believed, but that he went
away, and lived for many months among the Indians in the wilderness,
without giving a sign of his identity to the people among whom he lived,
or sending a hint of his whereabouts, or even of his existence, to his
anxious friends. But that the massacre of Terrepeur--in which he was
murdered and his hut was burned--occurred when it did, we might never
have learned his fate."
"Yet, still, I cannot see the ground upon which you suspect this Indian
woman of complicity in the man's disappearance," said Cumbervale.
"But I am coming to that. Scythia was a Mexican Indian. It is well known
to travelers that the Mexican Indians possess the secret of a drug
which, when administered to a man, will not kill him, or do him any
physical harm, but will reduce him to a state of abject imbecility, so
that his free will is destroyed, and he may be led by any one who may
wish to lead him. This drug administered to Rothsay, by the woman, must
have so deprived him of his reason as to induce him to follow any one
influencing him."
"What interest could she have had in reducing the man to this state of
dementia?"
"She had been like a mother to the young man, and had sheltered him in
her hut for years, when he had no other home. She was very much attached
to this adopted son of hers; she was longing to go back to her tribe and
die among her own people. It may be that she wished to take him with
her, and so gave him the drug that destroyed his will. Or, she may have
been the tool of others. All this is the merest conjecture. But the
facts remain that she foretold his fate, and that she vanished on the
same day on which he disappeared, and that he remained in exile,
voluntarily, until he was murdered by the Indians. Still--there might
have been another cause for this self-expatriation."
"May I inquire its nature?"
"No, duke; it is only in my secret thought. I have no just right to
speak of it to you. But if the question be not indiscreet, will you tell
me why you take so deep an interest in the unreliable story of this
Indian woman's life?"
"Certainly; because the wild young blade who married and left her, and
paid down his life for that desertion, was my own uncle, my father's
elder brother, Earl Netherby, the heir to the dukedom, by whose death my
father, and subsequently myself, succeeded to the title."
"You astonish me! Are you sure of this?"
"Reasonably sure. I was but five years old when my uncle came to bid us
good-by, before setting out for America. But I remember his having on
his finger a wonderful ring, a large solitaire diamond with certain
flaws in it; but these flaws were very curious; they were faint traces
left by the hand of nature shaping out a human eye. When ordinary
mortals like myself looked at the diamond, they saw the delicate outline
of an eye traced by the flaws in the stone; but it was said that
whenever a clairvoyant looked into it they could see, not the human eye,
but, as through a telescope, they could view the panorama of future
events."
"What nonsense!" said Mr. Rockharrt.
"Nonsense, of course," assented the duke. "I did not speak of the ring
on account of its supposed magic power, but because it was so peculiar a
jewel that it would be impossible to mistake it for any other ring, or
any other ring for itself; and to lead up to the statement that its
discovery enabled me to identify the Mexican Indian woman with the
maniac who murdered my uncle, as you will see very soon. When my uncle
took leave of us, my father, noticing the family talisman--which, by the
way, was picked up by our ancestor, Raoul-de-Netherbie, the great
Crusader, on the battle field of Acre, and was said to have belonged to
an Eastern magician, and has remained an heirloom with the head of our
family ever since--inquired of his brother whether he was going to wear
that outre jewel in open view upon his finger. My uncle answered that he
was; and half laughing, and wholly incredulous, he added:
"'You know, Hugh, that this stone is a talisman against shipwreck,
fires, floods, robbery, murder, illness, and all the perils by land or
by sea, and all the ills that flesh is heir to. While I wear this ring I
expect to be safe from the evils of the world, the flesh, and the devil.
So it shall never leave my living hand while I am away; but it shall
bring me home safe to live to a patriarchal age and then die peacefully
in my bed, with my children and children's children of many generations
weeping and wailing around me.'
"These or words to this effect he was speaking, while I, standing by the
chair in which he sat, toyed with his hand, and gazed curiously upon the
talismanic jewel, and got into my mind an impression of it that never
was lost. My uncle soon after left the house, and we never saw him alive
again."
"He was the victim of this mad woman?"
"I know it. News was slow in those days. We seldom heard from my uncle.
His letters were but the mark of the cities he stopped at. We had one
letter from Boston; a month later one from New York; a fortnight later,
perhaps--for I only remember these matters by hearing them talked over
by my parents--from Philadelphia; later still, and later, Baltimore,
Washington, Nashville, New Orleans, and so on as he journeyed southward.
Then came a long interval, during which we heard nothing from him, while
all his family suffered the deepest anxiety, fearing that he had fallen
a victim to the terrible fever that was then desolating the Crescent
City. Then at length came a letter from his valet--a deep black-bordered
letter--which announced the terrible news of the murder of his master by
a Mexican Indian woman, supposed to be mad. There were no details, but
only the explanation that he, the valet--who had seen the murder, which
was the work of an instant--was detained in New Orleans as a witness for
the prosecution, and should not be able to return home until after the
trial. It was two months after the latter that the valet came back to
England in charge of his late master's effects, which had all been
sealed by the New Orleans authorities, and reached us intact. Only the
family talisman was missing, and could nowhere be found. And as the
family's prosperity, and even continuity, was supposed to depend upon
the possession of that ring, its loss was considered only a less
misfortune than my uncle's death. Later, my uncle's remains were brought
home from New Orleans and deposited in the family vault at Cumbervale
Castle.
"The ring was never again heard of. On the death of my grandfather, the
seventh duke, my father, who was the second son, succeeded to the title.
But fortune seemed to have deserted us. By a series of unlucky land
speculations my father lost nearly all his riches, which calamities
preyed upon his mind so that his health broke down and he sank into
premature old age and died. I came into the title with but little to
support it. So that when I honestly loved a lady believed to be wealthy,
my motives were supposed to be mercenary."
The Iron King might have felt this thrust, but he gave no sign. The duke
continued:
"My after life does not concern the story of the ring. On learning,
since my return from long travel in the East, that your fair
granddaughter was widowed nearly two years before, you know I wrote to
you asking her address, with a view of renewing my old suit. You replied
by telling me that Mrs. Rothsay made her home with you, and inviting me
to visit you. I refer to this only to keep the sequence of events in
order. I came. Yesterday morning I went to Scythia's Roost, climbed from
that shelf to the top of the mountain and viewed the scene from it.
After I came down again to Scythia's Roost I sat down to rest. The sun
was sinking behind the ridge, but through a crevice in the rocks a
ray--'a line of golden light'--pierced and seemed to strike fire and
bring out an answering ray from some living light left in the ashes. I
went to see what it was, and picked up the magic ring, the family
talisman. There it was, the wonderful stone for which no other could
possibly be mistaken, the gem of intolerable light and fire that had to
be shaded before it could be steadily looked at and before the delicate
lines of its flaws delineating the human eye could be discerned. Here is
the ring, Mr. Rockharrt. Examine it for yourself."
Mr. Rockharrt took the ring, examined it curiously, turned it toward the
clouded window, then toward the blazing sea coal fire; in both positions
it burned and sparkled just like any other diamond. Then he shaded it
and looked at it through his eye-glasses; finally he shook his head and
returned it to its owner, saying:
"It is a fine gem, barring a flaw, and I congratulate you on its
recovery, but I see no human eye in it. I see some indistinct lines,
fine as the thread of a spider's web, that is all. There is the
breakfast bell, duke. We will go into the drawing room and find Cora.
She must be down by this time."
Cora was standing at one of the front windows, looking out upon the
driving rain. She turned as the two gentlemen entered the room, and
responded to their greeting.
"Well, now we will go in to breakfast. Did the fresh venison come in
time, Cora?"
"I think so, sir."
"We cook it on the breakfast table, duke, each one for himself. Put a
slice on a china plate over a chafing dish. The only way to eat a
venison cutlet," said old Aaron Rockharrt, as he led the way into the
breakfast room, where his eyes were immediately rejoiced by the sight of
three chafing dishes filled with ignited charcoal ready for use, and a
covered china dish, which he knew must contain the delicate venison
cutlets.
When breakfast was over and they had all left the table, the Iron King,
addressing his guest, said:
"Well, sir, I must be off to North End. I hope you will find some way
of entertaining yourself within doors, for certainly this is not a day
to tempt a man to seek recreation abroad. Nothing but business of
importance could take me out in such weather."
"I regret that any cause should take you out, sir," replied the guest.
As soon as the noise of the wheels had died away, the duke, who had
lingered in the hall to see his host depart, turned and entered the
drawing room, where he found Cora as before, standing at a window
looking out upon the dull November day.
"Will you permit me now to speak on the subject nearest my heart?" he
pleaded, taking the hand which had dropped down by her side.
"I had rather that the subject had never been started, but under the
circumstances, after what was said last night at dinner, I feel that the
sooner we come to a perfect understanding the better it will be," said
Cora, leading the way to a group of chairs and by a gesture inviting him
to be seated. Then, to prevent him further committing himself and
incurring a humiliating refusal, she herself took the initiative and
said:
"If any other person than Mr. Rockharrt had made the public announcement
that he did yesterday, I should have denounced the act as an
unpardonable outrage; but of him I must say that he must have labored
under some strange hallucination to have made such reckless assertions
without one shadow of foundation. You yourself must have known that
there was not one syllable of truth in his announcement."
"My dearest Mrs. Rothsay, I supposed that Mr. Rockharrt thought, even as
I hoped, that our betrothal was but the question of a few days, or even
of a few hours, and that he took the occasion of the family gathering to
announce the fact. He had already given his consent to my suit for the
blessing of your hand, and if he committed an indiscretion in that
premature announcement, I did not know it. I thought such announcement
might be a local custom, and I blessed him in my heart for observing it.
Cora!" he said, taking her hand and dropping his voice to a pleading
tone, "dear Cora, it was only premature."
"Duke of Cumbervale," she answered, coldly and gravely, withdrawing her
hand, "it is not premature. It was utterly false and groundless; it was
the declaration of an engagement that not only had never taken place,
but could never take place--an engagement forever impossible!"
"Oh, do not say that! I have kept my faith. After your grandfather's
rejection of me in your name I could rest nowhere in England. I went to
the Continent, and thence to the East; but still could rest nowhere,
because I was pursued by your image. When I came back to England, I
learned that you had been widowed from your wedding day and almost as
long as I had been absent. I determined to renew my suit, for I
remembered that it was not you, but your grandfather in your name, who
rejected my proposal. I remembered that you had once given me hope."
"You refer to a time of sad self-deception on my part, which led me even
to unconsciously deceiving you. My imaginary preference for you was a
brief hallucination. Let it be forgotten. The memory to me is
humiliating. You must think of me only as the wife of Regulas Rothsay."
"As the widow, you would say. Surely that widowhood can be no bar to my
suit."
"I do not call myself the widow of Rule Rothsay, but his wife," said
Cora, solemnly.
"But, my dear lady, surely death has--"
"Death has not," said Cora, fervently interrupting him--"death cannot
sever two souls as united as ours. I mean to spend the years I have to
live on earth, temporarily and partially separated from my husband, in
good works of which he would approve; with which he would sympathize and
which would draw his spirit into closer communion with mine; and I hope
at that ascension to the higher life which we miscall death to meet him
face to face, to be able to tell him, 'I have finished my work, I have
kept the faith,' and to be with him forever in one of the many mansions
of the Father's kingdom."
"I see," said the suitor, with a deep sigh, "that my suit would be
utterly useless at present. But I will not give up the hope that is my
life--the hope that you may yet look with favor on my love. I will merit
that you should do so. Cora Rothsay, I will no longer vex you with my
presence in this house. I will take leave of you even now, and only ask
of your courtesy the use of a dog cart to take me to the North End
Hotel."
"You are good, you are very good to me, and I pray with all my heart
that you may meet some woman much more worthy of your grace than am I,
and that you may be very happy. God bless you, Duke of Cumbervale," said
Cora, earnestly.
He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed it, bowed over it and silently
left the room.
Cora stepped after him and shut the door; then she hastened across the
floor, threw herself down on the sofa, buried her face in the cushions
and gave way to the flood of tears that flowed in sympathy with the pain
she had given. Meantime the duke went up to his room and rang for his
valet.
That grave and accomplished gentleman came at once.
"Dubois, go down and order the dogcart to be at the door in half an
hour; then return here to assist me."
The Frenchman bowed profoundly and withdrew.
"I have come a long way for a disappointment," murmured the rejected
lover, as he threw himself languidly upon the outside of the bed and
clasped his hands above his head. "A fanatic she certainly is. A lunatic
also most probably. Yet I cannot get her out of my head. I would go to
Canada--to Quebec--if it was not so abominably cold. Vane is there with
the 110th. But the climate is too severe. I must move southward, not
northward--southward, through California, and thence to the Sandwich
Islands, New Zealand, and Australia. That will be a pleasant winter
voyage. Talbot is at Sydney, and the climate, and the scenery, and the
fruits and vegetables said to be the finest in the world. It will be a
new experience, and if I can't forget her among soldiers and convicts,
miners and bushmen--well, then, I will come back and make a third
attempt. Well, Dubois, what is it?" This question to his valet, who just
then re-entered the room.
"The carriage will be at the door on time, your grace."
"Right. Now attend to my directions. I am going immediately to North
End, and shall leave thereby the six o'clock express, en route for San
Francisco. After I shall have left Rockhold you are to pack up my
effects. I shall send a hack from the hotel to fetch them. Be very sure
to be ready."
The duke went out and entered the dog cart, received his valise from his
valet, gave the order to the groom and was driven off, without having
again seen Cora.
But from behind the screen of her lace-curtained window she watched his
departure.
"I hope he will soon forget me," she murmured, as she turned away and
went down stairs to the library to look over the morning' papers, which
she had not yet seen. But before she touched a paper her eyes were
attracted by a letter stuck in the letter rack, directed to herself in
her brother's well known handwriting.
"To think that my grandfather should have neglected to give me my
letter," she complained, as she seized and opened it.
It was dated Fort Farthermost, and announced the fact of the regiment's
arrival at the new quarters near the boundary line of Texas, "in the
midst of a wilderness infested with hostile Indians, half-breeds, wild
beasts, rattlesnakes and tarantulas. Only two companies are to remain
here; my company--B--for one. Two first lieutenants are married men, but
they have not brought their wives. One of the captains is a widower, and
the other an old bachelor. In point of fact, there are only two ladies
with us--the colonel's wife and the major's. And when they heard from me
that my sister was coming to join me, they were delighted with the idea
of having another lady for company. All the same, Cora, I do not advise
you to come here. Will write more in a few days; must stop now to secure
the mail that goes by this train--wagon and mule train to Arkansaw City,
my dear."
This was the substance of the young lieutenant's letter to his sister.
"But 'all the same,' I shall go," said Corona. And she sat down to
answer her brother's letter.