THE HUSBAND, THE WIFE, AND THE UNFORTUNATE
WOMAN.
"Mercy! mercy!" were the words that burst from the lips of the
affrighted lady, ere she paused to reflect whether the preceding
conversation had been overheard or not.
"Rise," said Lord Ravensworth, his quivering lip, flashing eye, hectic
cheek, heaving chest, and clenched hand denoting a more powerful
excitement than he had experienced for a long, long time. "Rise, madam:
this is a subject which cannot be disposed of in passionate
ejaculations;—it requires a calmer deliberation—for the honour of two
noble families is now at stake!"
"Then you know all!" cried Adeline, in an agonising tone, as she
embraced her husband's knees.
"Yes—I overheard enough to enable me to comprehend the whole truth,"
returned the nobleman, who for the time being seemed to have altogether
thrown off the apathetic lethargy which had characterised him lately
with such few intermissions.
Then, as he was yet speaking, he forcibly raised his wife from her
suppliant position, and placed her upon the ottoman.
Taking a chair near her, he pointed to another, and, glancing towards
Lydia, said in a tone rather mournful than angry, "Young woman, be
seated."
Lydia obeyed mechanically; for she herself was alarmed at the serious
turn which the affair had taken.
"Adeline," said the nobleman, after a short pause, during which he
evidently endeavoured to compose his feelings as much as possible,
"before we enter upon this sad topic, I must in justice to myself
observe that I did not seek your chamber to play the eaves-dropper. I
felt unwell in the drawing-room ere now, and I retired to my own cabinet
to solace myself in the usual manner with the meerschaum. But it struck
me that I _had_ been better during all the early part of the morning
than for some weeks past; and, after a long struggle with myself, I
resolved to renounce the pipe. On my return to the drawing-room, I heard
that you were suddenly indisposed; and I came hither to inquire after
you. But at the moment I reached your door, I overheard words which
struck me as with a thunderbolt. Then I listened—and overheard much—too
much!"
"And now you hate—you despise me!" cried Adeline, wildly: "you will
thrust me forth from your dwelling—you will cover me with shame! No—no,"
she added hysterically, "death—death before such a fate!"
"Calm yourself, Adeline," said Lord Ravensworth, who evidently
suppressed his own feelings with great difficulty: "I before observed
that there is the honour of _two_ families to preserve—that of Rossville
and of Ravensworth. Give me your Bible."
"My Bible!" exclaimed Adeline, in astonishment mingled with alarm.
"Yes—your Bible. Where is it?"
"There—there!" said Adeline in a faint tone—for she was at a loss to
divine the meaning or intention of her husband; and that mysterious
uncertainty filled her with vague fears.
Lydia rose, and taking the Bible from a small book-case to which Lady
Ravensworth pointed, handed it to the nobleman.
"Will you swear, Adeline," he said, in a solemn and impressive
tone,—"will you swear upon this volume which contains the Word of God,
that the child you now bear in your bosom is mine, and that since your
marriage you have never forgotten the fidelity due to a husband? Will
you swear this, Adeline?"
"I will—I will!" she exclaimed, in almost a joyful tone, as if she were
satisfied that her conjugal faith should be put to such a test.
"Swear, then," said Lord Ravensworth; "and invoke God to cast you
dead—dead this minute at my feet—if you swear falsely."
"I do—I do!" cried Lady Ravensworth: then, taking the holy volume in her
hand, she said in a calmer and more measured tone, "I swear, as I hope
for future salvation, that I have never been unfaithful, even in
thought, to my marriage vow, and that the child I bear in my bosom is my
husband's. This I swear by every thing sacred and holy; and if I have
sworn falsely, may the great God cast me dead at your feet."
She then kissed the book.
There was a solemn pause:—Lady Ravensworth was now perhaps the most
composed of the three, for she saw that her husband was satisfied in all
that concerned his own honour since the day he had led her to the altar.
As for Lydia—she was overawed and even alarmed at that imposing ceremony
of a husband administering an oath to his wife; and Lord Ravensworth
remained for some moments absorbed in deep thought.
"Yes," he suddenly exclaimed, as if continuing aloud the thread of his
silent thoughts,—"the honour of two families must be preserved! And,
after all,—perhaps I am rightly served! A man of my years should have
sought a partner of a fitting age; but it is the fault—the error—the
curse of elderly men to believe that their rank and wealth warrant them
in seeking some young girl who may thus become as it were a victim. Then
mothers take advantage of that longing to obtain a wife of comparatively
tender years; and those worldly-minded parents——"
"My lord—my lord, spare my feelings!" ejaculated Adeline, now painfully
excited. "My mother knew not of her daughter's frailty——"
"Well—enough on that head!" said Lord Ravensworth, somewhat impatiently.
"The past cannot be recalled: let us secure the honour of the future.
You have erred in your girlhood, Adeline! and there," he added,
indicating Lydia, "is one who knows that sad secret. You have been
ungrateful to her—by _her_ accusations and _your_ acknowledgment; and
she holds you in her power. Not _you_ alone:—but she holds _your_ family
and _mine_—for an exposure would create a scandal that must redound upon
us all!"
"I have no wish to avail myself of the possession of that secret for
such an object," said Lydia. "I have two motives for desiring to remain
at least a year in her ladyship's service."
"Never!" cried Adeline, emphatically. "It is you who have made all this
mischief!"
"Silence, Adeline," said Lord Ravensworth, sternly; then, turning
towards Lydia, he added, "Young woman, proceed—and speak frankly."
"I stated that I had two objects to serve in being anxious to remain in
her ladyship's service for one year," continued Lydia. "In the first
place, I have been so unfortunate—so very, very miserable, that I wish
to earn my livelihood by servitude; and it is my hope to remain here
until her ladyship can conscientiously give me such a character as will
ensure me a good situation elsewhere."
"That is naturally understood," observed Lord Ravensworth. "What is your
second motive?"
"My second motive!" repeated Lydia, with the least accent of bitterness:
"oh! that I will explain to her ladyship in private—and she will be
satisfied!"
"Now listen to me," said the nobleman. "Lady Ravensworth dislikes the
idea that you should remain here. I will give you the means of settling
yourself comfortably for life, if you will leave forthwith, and promise
solemnly to preserve that fatal secret which you possess."
"My lord," answered Lydia, respectfully but firmly, "I return you my
most sincere thanks for that bounteous offer which I am compelled to
decline. Were I to accept your lordship's conditions, my aims would not
be answered. In respect to my first object, I have determined to earn a
character that may to some extent retrieve the past;—for, as your
lordship must have gathered from the conversation which you overheard, I
have been unfortunate—very unfortunate!"
"Merciful heavens!" exclaimed Adeline; "how can I retain you
in my service? You have belonged to a class—oh! no—it is
impossible—impossible!"
"I do not wish to insult your feelings, young woman," said Lord
Ravensworth; "especially since you manifest so praiseworthy a desire to
retrieve your character. But you must perceive the impossibility, as her
ladyship observes, of retaining you in our service. You might be
known—recognised——"
"I understand your lordship," interrupted Lydia, bitterly; "I might be
recognised as an unhappy creature who had once earned a livelihood by
parading the public streets. That is scarcely probable:—I am much
changed since then. The kindness of an excellent lady has enabled me to
recruit my strength and to recover a healthy appearance. Yes—I must be
altered; for your lordship does not perceive in me the poor miserable
starving wretch who some few months since accosted her ladyship in Saint
James's Street."
"Ah! I recollect," exclaimed the nobleman, as the incident flashed to
his mind. "I only observed you for a moment on that occasion; but
still—so miserable was your appearance—it made an impression on my mind.
Yes—you are indeed changed! Nevertheless, those who saw you in an
unhappy career, before you became so reduced as you were on the occasion
which you have mentioned, might recognise you. And—pardon my frankness,
young woman; but the subject admits not of the measurement of words—what
would be thought of me—of my wife—of all the other members of my
household——"
"If I were seen in your establishment, your lordship would add,"
exclaimed Lydia. "I admit the truth of all your lordship states: still
my wish to remain a member of that establishment is unchanged. For—as
your lordship may have ere now gathered from our conversation—it was her
ladyship who first placed me in those paths which led to my ruin; and it
must be her ladyship who shall aid me in earning an honourable character
once more."
"But this punishment is too severe!" exclaimed Adeline, almost wringing
her hands; for she perceived how completely the honour of two families
was in Lydia's power.
"Consider, I implore you, the position of my wife," said the nobleman:
"in a few weeks she will become a mother!"
"My lord, her ladyship never had any consideration for me, from the
first moment that I ceased to be useful to her," returned Lydia, with
inexorable firmness; "and I cannot consent to sacrifice what I consider
to be my own interests to her ladyship's wishes now."
Then Lydia Hutchinson rose, as if to intimate that her determination was
unchangeable; and that obscure girl was enabled to dictate her own terms
to the noble peer and the proud peeress.
"It must be so, then—it must be so," said Lord Ravensworth, with a
vexation of manner which he could not conceal. "You shall have an
apartment in my establishment and handsome wages:—all I exact is that
you do not force your attentions on her ladyship save when she demands
them."
"If I remain here, it must be in the capacity of her ladyship's
principal attendant," returned Lydia: "otherwise I could not fairly earn
a good character in the eyes of the other dependants of your lordship."
"Perdition! young woman," exclaimed the nobleman; "you demand too much!"
"More than I will ever concede," added Lady Ravensworth, unable to
restrain a glance of malignity and desperate hate towards Lydia
Hutchinson.
"Then your lordship will permit me to take my departure," said she,
calmly; and she moved towards the door.
"My God! she will reveal every thing!" almost shrieked Lady Ravensworth.
"Yes—every thing," said Lydia, returning the look which Adeline had cast
on her a few moments before.
"Stay, young woman—this may not be!" ejaculated Lord Ravensworth. "You
exercise your power with a fearful despotism."
"The world has been a fearful despot towards me, my lord," was the firm
but calm reply.
"And with your tyranny in this respect you will kill my wife—kill my yet
unborn child!" exclaimed the nobleman, rising from his seat and pacing
the room in a state of desperate excitement. "But the honour of the
Rossvilles and the Ravensworths must be preserved—at any sacrifice—at
any risk!—Yes—though you bring misery into this house, here must you
remain—since such is your inflexible will. Were an exposure to take
place, the consequences—my God! would be awful—crushing! The finger of
ridicule and scorn would point at me—the elderly man who espoused the
young and beautiful girl, and who was so proud that he had won her for a
wife! And then—should the child of which she is so soon to become a
mother, prove a son—although the law would recognise him as the heir to
my name and fortune, yet the scandalous world would throw doubts,
perhaps, on his legitimacy. Ah! the thought is maddening! And my
brother—my brother too——"
Lord Ravensworth checked himself in the midst of those musings, into the
audible expression of which the agitation of his mind had hurried
him:—he checked himself, for the convulsive sobs which came from his
wife's lips suddenly reminded him that every word he was uttering
pierced like a dagger into her soul.
"Oh! God have mercy upon me!" she exclaimed, in a voice scarcely audible
through the convulsions of her grief: "how dearly—dearly am I now paying
for the errors of my youth!"
"Does that sight not move you, woman?" muttered the nobleman between his
grinding teeth, as he accosted Lydia, and pointed to the lamentable
condition of his wife.
"My lord, I lost all by serving the interests of her who is now Lady
Ravensworth; and it is time that I should think only of my own."
This reply was given with a frigid—stern—and inexorable calmness, that
struck despair to the heart of the unhappy nobleman and his still more
wretched wife.
"Then be it all as you say—be it all as you wish, despotic woman!" cried
Lord Ravensworth. "Remain here—command us all—drive us to despair—for
our honour is unhappily in your remorseless hands."
With these words, the nobleman rushed from the room in a state bordering
on distraction.
A few minutes of profound silence elapsed.
Lydia remained standing near the mantel, gazing with joyful triumph on
Adeline, whose head was buried in her hands, and whose bosom gave vent
to convulsive sobs.
Suddenly Lady Ravensworth looked up, and gazed wildly around her.
"He is gone—and you are still there!" she said, in a low and hoarse
voice. "Now we are alone together—and doubtless I am to look upon you as
one determined to drive me to despair. What other motive had you for
insisting upon remaining here?"
"Lady, I will now explain myself," returned Lydia, speaking slowly and
solemnly. "It pierced me to the heart to cause so much grief to that
good nobleman, of whom you are so utterly unworthy; but for you I have
no kind consideration—no mercy. Adeline, I hate you—I loathe you—I
detest you!"
"Merciful heavens!" exclaimed Lady Ravensworth: "and you are to be
constantly about my person!"
"Yes: and my second motive for remaining here to enjoy that privilege,"
continued Lydia, bitterly, "is _vengeance_!"
"Vengeance!" repeated Adeline, recoiling as it were from the terrible
word, and clasping her hands franticly together.
"Vengeance—vengeance!" continued Lydia Hutchinson. "Before the rest of
the world I shall appear the humble and respectful dependant—yes, even
in the presence of your husband. But when alone with you, I shall prove
a very demon, whose weapons are galling reproaches, ignominies, insults,
and indignities."
"Oh! this is terrible!" cried Adeline, as if her senses were leaving
her. "You cannot be such a fiend."
"I can—I will!" returned Lydia. "Have I not undergone enough to make me
so? And all was occasioned by _you_! When I was your wretched tool, you
promised me the affection of a sister; and how did you fulfil your
pledge? You came to me at a house where I was a governess, and whence I
was anxious to remove from the importunities of the master; and there
you threw off the mask. I then saw the hollowness of your soul. My
father died of a broken heart, and my brother perished in a duel, in
consequence of my iniquity. But who had made me criminal? _You!_ I
called upon you at Rossville House at a time when a little sympathy on
your part might have still saved me; for I should have felt that I had
_one friend_ still left. But you scorned me—you even menaced me; and I
then warned you that I was absolved from all motives of secrecy on your
account. Your black ingratitude drove me to despair; and I immediately
afterwards fell to the lowest grade in the social sphere—that of a
prostitute! Yes—for I need use no nice language with you. All the
miseries I endured in my wretched career I charge upon your head. And
ere now you menaced me again: you threatened to accuse me falsely of a
crime that would render me amenable to the criminal tribunals of the
country. It only required _that_ to fill the cup of your base
ingratitude to the very brim. And think you that your malignant—your
spiteful glances,—your looks of bitter, burning hate,—were lost upon me?
No—you would doubtless assassinate me, if you dared! Oh! I have long
detested you—long loathed your very name! But, never—never, until we met
in this room ere now, did I believe that my hatred against you was so
virulent as it is. And never—never until this hour did I appreciate the
sweets of vengeance. At present I can revel in those feelings:—I can
wreak upon you—and I _will_—that revenge which my own miseries and the
death of those whom I held dear have excited in my heart! Your ladyship
now knows the terms of our connexion, for one year; and at the
expiration of that period you will be glad—Oh! too glad to rid yourself
of me by giving me a character that will never fail to procure for me a
place in future."
With these words Lydia Hutchinson left the room.
Lady Ravensworth sank back in convulsions of anguish upon the ottoman.
And Lord Ravensworth,—who throughout the morning had experienced so much
lightness of heart and mental calmness that he resolved to wrestle in
future with that apathy and gloom which drove him to his pipe,—had shut
himself up in his private cabinet, to seek solace once more in the fatal
attractions of the oriental tobacco.
Thus had the presence of Lydia Hutchinson,—once despised, scorned, and
trampled on,—brought desolation and misery into that lordly dwelling.
O Adeline, Adeline! thou wast now taught a bitter lesson illustrative of
the terrible consequences of ingratitude!
The aristocracy conceives that it may insult the democracy with
impunity. The high-born and the wealthy never stop to consider, when
they put an affront upon the lowly and the poor, whether a day of
retribution may not sooner or later come. The peer cannot see the
necessity of conciliating the peasant: the daughter of the nobility
knows not the use of making a friend of the daughter of the people.
But the meanest thing that crawls upon the earth may some day be in a
position to avenge the injuries it has received from a powerful
oppressor; and the mightiest lord or the noblest lady may be placed in
that situation when even the friendship of the humblest son or the most
obscure daughter of industry would be welcome as the drop of water to
the lost wanderer of the desert.
Yes! Most solemnly do I proclaim to you, O suffering millions of these
islands, that ye shall not always languish beneath the yoke of your
oppressors! Individually ye shall each see the day when your tyrant
shall crouch at your feet; and as a mass ye shall triumph over that
proud oligarchy which now grinds you to the dust!
That day—that great day cannot be far distant; and then shall ye
rise—not to wreak a savage vengeance on those who have so long coerced
you, but to prove to them that ye know how to exercise a mercy which
they never manifested towards you;—ye shall rise, not to convulse the
State with a disastrous civil war, nor to hurry the nation on to the
deplorable catastrophe of social anarchy, confusion, and bloodshed;—but
ye shall rise to vindicate usurped rights, and to recover delegated and
misused power, that ye may triumphantly assert the aristocracy of mind,
and the aristocracy of virtue!