THE WORLD GOES ON THE SAME.
Into my chamber brightly
Came the early sun's good-morrow;
On my restless bed, unsightly,
I sat up in my sorrow.
_Faust._
It is an amazing thing, the strength and power of pride. Pride, and the
law of self-respect and self-preservation in our being, is the force
that holds us in our course. When we reflect upon it, how few of all the
myriads fly out from it and are lost. That I ate my meals; that I
dressed myself with care; that I took walks and drives: that I did not
avoid my companions, and listened patiently to what they chose to say:
these were the evidences of that centripetal law within that was keeping
me from destruction. It would be difficult to imagine a person more
unhappy. Undisciplined and unfortified by the knowledge that
disappointment is an integral part of all lives, there had suddenly come
upon me a disappointment the most total. It covered everything; there
was not a flicker of hope or palliation. And I had no idea where to go
to make myself another hope, or in what course lay palliation. As we
have prepared ourselves or have been prepared, so is the issue of our
temptations. My great temptation came upon me, foolish, ignorant,
unprepared: the wonder would have been if I had resisted it to my
own credit.
The days went on as usual at R----, and I must hold my place among the
careless daughters and not let them see my trouble. Careless daughters,
indeed they were, and I shuddered at the thought of their cold eyes: no
doubt their eyes, bright as well as cold, saw that something was amiss
with me; with all my bravery, I could not keep the signs of wretchedness
out of my pale face. But they never knew the story, and they could only
guess at what made me wretched. It is amazing (again) what power there
is in silence, and how much you can keep in your hands if you do not
open them. People may surmise--may invent, but they cannot know your
secret unless you tell it to them, and their imaginings take so many
forms, the multitude of things that they create blot out all definite
design. Thus every one at R---- had a different theory about my loss of
spirits and the relapse of Mr. Langenau, but no one ever knew what
passed that night.
Richard came. He was closeted with Sophie until after midnight, but I
do not think he told her anything that she desired to know. I think he
only tried to find out from her what had passed (and she did not know
that I had been in the library since she spoke to me). If Mr. Langenau
had been well, I have no doubt that it was his design to have dismissed
him on the following day, no matter at what hazard. How much he knew I
cannot tell, but enough to have warranted him in doing that, perhaps. He
probably would have put it in Mr. Langenau's power to have gone without
any coloring put upon his going that would have affected his standing in
the household. This was his design, no doubt; otherwise he would have
told his sister all. His delicate consideration for me made him guard as
sacred the fact that I had wasted my hope and love so cruelly.
He was not going away again, I soon found; _qui va à la chasse perd sa
place_. He had lost his place, but he would stay and guard me all the
same; and the chase for gold seemed given up for good and all.
Kilian was in constant surprise, and made out many catechisms, but he
got little satisfaction.
Richard was going to have a few weeks' "rest," unless something should
occur to call him back to town.
He sought no interview with me, was kind and silent, but his eye was
never off me. I think he watched his opportunity for saying what he had
to say to Mr. Langenau, but such an opportunity seemed destined not
to come.
Mr. Langenau was ill the day after Richard came home--quite ill enough
to cause alarm. He had a high fever, and the Doctor even seemed uneasy,
and prescribed the profoundest quiet. After a day or two, however, he
improved, and all danger seemed averted.
As soon as he was strong enough, he was to be removed to his own room
above, for the sake of quiet, and to release the household from its
enforced tranquillity.
All these particulars I heard at table, or from morning groups on the
piazza: with stony cheeks, and eyes that looked unflinchingly into all
curious faces: so works the law of self-defence.
All but Richard, I am sure, were staggered, but he read with his heart.
I never blushed now, I never faltered, I never said a word I did not
mean to say. It was a struggle for life: though I did not value the
life, and should have found it hard to say why I did not give up and
let them see that I was killed.
But I kept wondering how I should sustain myself if I should be called
upon to meet him once again.