THE RIVALS.
One word-yes or no! and it means
Death or life! Speak, are you his wife?
--_Anon_.
Heedless as the mad, of night, of storm, and danger, Nora hurried
desperately on. She was blinded by the darkness and smothered by the
thickly-falling snow, and torn by the thorns and briars of the
brushwood; but not for these impediments would the frantic girl abate
her speed. She slipped often, hurt herself sometimes, and once she fell
and rolled down the steep hill-side until stopped by a clump of cedars.
But she scrambled up, wet, wounded, and bleeding, and tore on, through
the depths of the valley and up the opposite heights. Panting,
breathless, dying almost, she reached Brudenell Hall.
The house was closely shut up to exclude the storm, and outside the
strongly barred window-shutters there was a barricade of drifted snow.
The roofs were all deeply covered with snow, and it was only by its
faint white glare in the darkness that Nora found her way to the house.
Her feet sank half a leg deep in the drifts as she toiled on towards the
servants' door. All was darkness there! if there was any light, it was
too closely shut in to gleam abroad.
For a moment Nora leaned against the wall to recover a little strength,
and then she knocked. But she had to repeat the summons again and again
before the door was opened. Then old Jovial appeared--his mouth and eyes
wide open with astonishment at seeing the visitor.
"Name o' de law, Miss Nora, dis you? What de matter? Is you clean tuk
leave of your senses to be a-comin' up here, dis hour of de night in
snowstorm?" he cried.
"Let me in, Jovial! Is Mr. Herman Brudenell at home?" gasped Nora, as
without waiting for an answer she pushed past him and sunk into the
nearest chair.
"Marser Bredinell home? No, miss! Nor likewise been home since late last
night. He went away' mediately arter interdoocing de young madam to de
ole one; which she tumbled in upon us with a whole raft of waiting
maids, and men, and dogs, and birds, and gold fishes, and debil knows
what all besides, long arter midnight last night--and so he hasn't been
hearn on since, and de fambly is in de greatest 'stress and anxiety.
Particular she, poor thing, as comed so far to see him! And we no more
s'picioning as he had a wife, nor anything at all, 'til she tumbled
right in on top of us! Law, Miss Nora, somefin werry particular must
have fetch you out in de snow to-night, and 'deed you do look like you
had heard bad news! Has you hearn anything 'bout him, honey?"
"Is it true, then?" moaned Nora, in a dying tone, without heeding his
last question.
"Which true, honey?"
"About the foreign lady coming here last night and claiming to be his
wife?"
"As true as gospel, honey--which you may judge the astonishment is put
on to us all."
"Jovial, where is the lady?"
"Up in de drawing-room, honey, if she has not 'tired to her chamber."
"Show me up there, Jovial, I must see her for myself," Nora wailed, with
her head fallen upon her chest.
"Now, sure as the world, honey, you done heard somefin 'bout de poor
young marser? Is he come to an accident, honey?" inquired the man very
uneasily.
"Who?" questioned Nora vaguely.
"The young marser, honey; Mr. Herman Brudenell, chile!"
"What of him?" cried Nora--a sharp new anxiety added to her woe.
"Why, law, honey, aint I just been a-telling of you? In one half an hour
arter de forein lady tumbled in, young marse lef' de house an' haint
been seen nor heard on since. I t'ought maybe you'd might a hearn what's
become of him. It is mighty hard on her, poor young creatur, to be
fairly forsok de very night she come."
"Ah!" cried Nora, in the sharp tones of pain--"take me to that lady at
once! I must, must see her! I must hear from her own lips--the truth!"
"Come along then, chile! Sure as the worl' you has hearn somefin, dough
you won't tell me; for I sees it in your face; you's as white as a
sheet, an' all shakin' like a leaf an' ready to drop down dead! You
won't let on to me; but mayhaps you may to her," said Jovial, as he led
the way along the lighted halls to the drawing-room door, which, he
opened, announcing:
"Here's Miss Nora Worth, mistess, come to see Lady Hurt-my-soul."
And as soon as Nora, more like a ghost than a living creature, had
glided in, he shut the door, went down on his knees outside and applied
his ear to the key-hole.
Meanwhile Nora found herself once more in the gorgeously furnished,
splendidly decorated, and brilliantly lighted drawing room that had been
the scene of her last night's humiliation. But she did not think of that
now, in this supreme crisis of her fate.
Straight before her, opposite the door by which she entered, was an
interesting tableau, in a dazzling light--it was a sumptuous fireside
picture--the coal-fire glowing between the polished steel bars of the
wide grate, the white marble mantel-piece, and above that, reaching to
the lofty ceiling, a full-length portrait of Herman Brudenell; before
the fire an inlaid mosaic table, covered with costly books, work-boxes,
hand-screens, a vase of hot-house flowers, and other elegant trifles of
luxury; on the right of this, in a tall easy-chair, sat Mrs. Brudenell;
on this side sat the Misses Brudenell; these three ladies were all
dressed in slight mourning, if black silk dresses and white lace collars
can be termed such; and they were all engaged in the busy idleness of
crochet work; but on a luxurious crimson velvet sofa, drawn up to the
left side of the fire, reclined a lady dressed in the deepest mourning,
and having her delicate pale, sad face half veiled by her long, soft
black ringlets.
While Nora gazed breathlessly upon this pretty creature, whom she
recognized at once as the stranger, Mrs. Brudenell slowly raised her
head and stared at Nora.
"You here, Nora Worth! How dare you? Who had the insolence to let you
in?" she said, rising and advancing to the bell-cord. But before she
could pull it Nora Worth lifted her hand with that commanding power
despair often lends to the humblest, and said:
"Stop, madam, this is no time to heap unmerited scorn upon one crushed
to the dust already, and whose life cannot possibly offend you or cumber
the earth much longer. I wish to speak to that lady."
"With me!" exclaimed Lady Hurstmonceux, rising upon her elbow and gazing
with curiosity upon the beautiful statue that was gliding toward her as
if it were moved by invisible means.
Mrs. Brudenell paused with her hand upon the bell-tassel and looked at
Nora, whose lovely face seemed to have been thus turned to stone in some
moment of mortal suffering, so agonized and yet so still it looked! Her
hair had fallen loose and hung in long, wet, black strings about her
white bare neck, for she had neither shawl nor bonnet; her clothes were
soaked with the melted snow, and she had lost one shoe in her wild night
walk.
Mrs. Brudenell shuddered with aversion as she looked at Nora; when she
found her voice she said:
"Do not let her approach you, Berenice. She is but a low creature; not
fit to speak to one of the decent negroes even; and besides she is
wringing wet and will give you a cold."
"Poor thing! she will certainly take one herself, mamma; she looks too
miserable to live! If you please, I would rather talk with her! Come
here, my poor, poor girl! what is it that troubles you so? Tell me! Can
I help you? I will, cheerfully, if I can." And the equally "poor" lady,
poor in happiness as Nora herself, put her hand in her pocket and drew
forth an elegant portmonnaie of jet.
"Put up your purse, lady! It is not help that I want--save from God! I
want but a true answer to one single question, if you will give it to
me."
"Certainly, I will, my poor creature; but stand nearer the fire; it will
dry your clothes while we talk."
"Thank you, madam, I do not need to."
"Well, then, ask me the question that you wish to have answered. Don't
be afraid, I give you leave, you know," said the lady kindly.
Nora hesitated, shivered, and gasped; but could not then ask the
question that was to confirm her fate; it was worse than throwing the
dice upon which a whole fortune was staked; it was like giving the
signal for the ax to fall upon her own neck. At last, however, it came,
in low, fearful, but distinct words:
"Madam, are you the wife of Mr. Herman Brudenell?"
"Nora Worth, how dare you? Leave the room and the house this instant,
before I send for a constable and have you taken away?" exclaimed Mrs.
Brudenell, violently pulling at the bell-cord.
"Mamma, she is insane, poor thing! do not be hard on her," said Lady
Hurstmonceux gently; and then turning to poor Nora she answered, in the
manner of one humoring a maniac:
"Yes, my poor girl, I am the wife of Mr. Herman Brudenell. Can I do
anything for you?"
"Nothing, madam," was the answer that came sad, sweet, and low as the
wail of an Aeolian harp swept by the south wind.
The stranger lady's eyes were bent with deep pity upon her; but before
she could speak again Mrs. Brudenell broke into the discourse by
exclaiming:
"Do not speak to her, Berenice! I warned you not to let her speak to
you, but you would not take my advice, and now you have been insulted."
"But, mamma, she is insane, poor thing; some great misery has turned her
brain; I am very sorry for her," said the kind-hearted stranger.
"I tell you she is not! She is as sane as you are! Look at her! Not in
that amazed, pitying manner, but closely and critically, and you will
see what she is; one of those low creatures who are the shame of women
and the scorn of men. And if she has misery for her portion, she has
brought it upon herself, and it is a just punishment."
The eyes of Lady Hurstmonceux turned again upon the unfortunate young
creature before her, and this time she did examine her attentively,
letting her gaze rove over her form.
This time Nora did not lift up her hands to cover her burning face; that
marble face could never burn or blush again; since speaking her last
words Nora had remained standing like one in a trance, stone still, with
her head fallen upon her breast, and her arms hanging listlessly by her
side. She seemed dead to all around her.
Not so Lady Hurstmonceux; as her eyes roved over this form of stone her
pale face suddenly flushed, her dark eyes flashed, and she sprang up
from the sofa, asking the same question that Mrs. Brudenell had put the
evening before.
"Girl! what is it to you whether Mr. Brudenell has a wife or not? What
are you to Mr. Herman Brudenell?"
"Nothing, madam; nothing for evermore," wailed Nora, without looking up
or changing her posture.
"Humph! I am glad to hear it, I am sure!" grunted Mrs. Brudenell.
"Nothing? you say; nothing?" questioned Lady Hurstmonceux.
"Nothing in this world, madam; nothing whatever! so be at ease." It was
another wail of the storm-swept heart-strings.
"I truly believe you; I ought to have believed without asking you; but
who, then, has been your betrayer, my poor girl?" inquired the young
matron in tones of deepest pity.
This question at length shook the statue; a storm passed through her;
she essayed to speak, but her voice failed.
"Tell me, poor one; and I will do what I can to right your wrongs. Who
is it?"
"Myself!" moaned Nora, closing her eyes as if to shut out all light and
life, while a spasm drew back the corners of her mouth and convulsed her
face.
"Enough of this, Berenice! You forget the girls!" said Mrs. Brudenell,
putting her hand to the bell and ringing again.
"I beg your pardon, madam; I did indeed forget the presence of the
innocent and happy in looking upon the erring and wretched," said Lady
Hurstmonceux.
"That will do," said the elder lady. "Here is Jovial at last! Why did
you not come when I first rang?" she demanded of the negro, who now
stood in the door.
"I 'clare, mist'ess, I never heerd it de fust time, madam."
"Keep your ears open in future, or it will be the worse for you! And now
what excuse can you offer for disobeying my express orders, and not only
admitting this creature to the house, but even bringing her to our
presence?" demanded the lady severely.
"I clare 'fore my 'vine Marster, madam, when Miss Nora come in de storm
to de kitchen-door, looking so wild and scared like, and asked to see de
young madam dere, I t'ought in my soul how she had some news of de young
marster to tell! an' dat was de why I denounced her into dis
drawin'-room."
"Do not make such a mistake again! if you do I will make you suffer
severely for it! And you, shameless girl! if you presume to set foot on
these premises but once again, I will have you sent to the work-house as
a troublesome vagrant."
Nora did not seem to hear her; she had relapsed into her stony,
trance-like stupor.
"And now, sir, since you took the liberty of bringing her in, put her
out--out of the room, and out of the house!" said Mis. Brudenell.
"Mamma! what! at midnight! in the snow-storm?" exclaimed Lady
Hurstmonceux, in horror.
"Yes! she shall not desecrate the bleakest garret, or the lowest cellar,
or barest barn on the premises!"
"Mamma! It would be murder! She would perish!" pleaded the young lady.
"Not she! Such animals are used to exposure! And if she and all like her
were to 'perish,' as you call it, the world would be so much the better
for it! They are the pests of society!"
"Mamma, in pity, look at her! consider her situation! She would surely
die! and not alone, mamma! think of that!" pleaded Berenice.
"Jovial! am I to be obeyed or not?" sternly demanded the elder lady.
"Come, Miss Nora; come, my poor, poor child," said Jovial, in a low
tone, taking the arm of the miserable girl, who turned, mechanically, to
be led away.
"Jovial, stop a moment! Mrs. Brudenell, I have surely some little
authority in my husband's house; authority that I should be ashamed to
claim in the presence of his mother, were it not to be exercised in the
cause of humanity. This girl must not leave the house to-night," said
Berenice respectfully, but firmly.
"Lady Hurstmonceux, if you did but know what excellent cause you have to
loathe that creature, you would not oppose my orders respecting her; if
you keep her under your roof this night you degrade yourself; and,
finally, if she does not leave the house at once I and my daughters
must--midnight and snow-storm, notwithstanding. We are not accustomed to
domicile with such wretches," said the old lady grimly.
Berenice was not prepared for this extreme issue; Mrs. Brudenell's
threat of departing with her daughters at midnight, and in the storm,
shocked and alarmed her; and the other words reawakened her jealous
misgivings. Dropping the hand that she had laid protectingly upon Nora's
shoulder, she said:
"It shall be as you please, madam. I shall not interfere again."
This altercation had now aroused poor Nora to the consciousness that she
herself was a cause of dispute between the two ladies; so putting her
hand to her forehead and looking around in a bewildered way, she said:
"No; it is true; I have no right to stop here now; I will go!"
"Jovial," said Berenice, addressing the negro, "have you a wife and a
cabin of your own?"
"Yes, madam; at your sarvice."
"Then let it be at my service in good earnest to-night, Jovial; take
this poor girl home, and ask your wife to take care of her to-night; and
receive this as your compensation," she said, putting a piece of gold in
the hand of the man.
"There can be no objection to that, I suppose, madam?" she inquired of
Mrs. Brudenell.
"None in the world, unless Dinah objects; it is not every honest negro
woman that will consent to have a creature like that thrust upon her.
Take her away, Jovial!"
"Come, Miss Nora, honey; my ole 'oman aint agwine to turn you away for
your misfortins: we leabes dat to white folk; she'll be a mother to you,
honey; and I'll be a father; an' I wish in my soul as I knowed de man as
wronged you; if I did, if I didn't give him a skin-full ob broken bones
if he was as white as cotton wool, if I didn't, my name aint Mr. Jovial
Brudenell, esquire, and I aint no gentleman. And if Mr. Reuben Gray
don't hunt him up and punish him, he aint no gentleman, neither!" said
Jovial, as he carefully led his half fainting charge along the passages
back to the kitchen.
The servants had all gone to bed, except Jovial, whose duty it was, as
major-domo, to go all around the house the last thing at night to fasten
the doors and windows and put out the fires and lights. So when they
reached the kitchen it was empty, though a fine fire was burning in the
ample chimney.
"There, my poor hunted hare, you sit down there an' warm yourself good,
while I go an' wake up my ole 'oman, an' fetch her here to get something
hot for you, afore takin' of you to de cabin, an' likewise to make a
fire dere for you; for I 'spects Dinah hab let it go out," said the
kind-hearted old man, gently depositing his charge upon a seat in the
chimney corner and leaving her there while he went to prepare for her
comfort.
When she was alone Nora, who had scarcely heeded a word of his
exhortation, sat for a few minutes gazing woefully into vacancy; then
she put her hand to her forehead, passing it to and fro, as if to clear
away a mist--a gesture common to human creatures bewildered with sorrow;
then suddenly crying out:
"My Lord! It is true! and I have no business here! It is a sin and a
shame to be here! or anywhere! anywhere in the world!" And throwing up
her arms with a gesture of wild despair, she sprang up, tore open the
door, and the second time that night rushed out into the storm and
darkness.
The warm, light kitchen remained untenanted for perhaps twenty minutes,
when Jovial, with his Dinah on his arm and a lantern in his hand,
entered, Jovial grumbling:
"Law-a-mity knows, I don't see what she should be a-wantin' to come here
for! partic'lar arter de treatment she 'ceived from ole mis'tess las'
night! tain't sich a par'dise nohow for nobody--much less for she! Hi,
'oman!" he suddenly cried, turning the rays of the lantern in all
directions, though the kitchen was quite light enough without them.
"What de matter now, ole man?" asked Dinah.
"Where Nora? I lef' her here an' she aint here now! where she gone?"
"Hi, ole man, what you ax me for? how you 'spect I know?"
"Well, I 'clare ef dat don't beat eberyting!"
"Maybe she done gone back in de house ag'in!" suggested Dinah.
"Maybe she hab; I go look; but stop, first let me look out'n de door to
see if she went away," said Jovial, going to the door and holding the
lantern down near the ground.
"Yes, Dinah, 'oman, here day is; little foot-prints in de snow a-goin'
away from de house an' almost covered up now! She done gone! Now don't
dat beat eberything? Now she'll be froze to death, 'less I goes out in
de storm to look for her; an' maybe she'll be froze anyway; for dere's
no sartainty 'bout my findin' of her. Now aint dat a trial for any
colored gentleman's narves! Well den, here goes! Wait for me here, ole
'omen, till I come back, and if I nebber comes, all I leabes is yourn,
you know," sighed the old man, setting down the lantern and beginning to
button up his great coat preparatory to braving the storm.
But at this moment a figure came rushing through the snow towards the
kitchen door.
"Here she is now; now, ole 'oman! get de gruel ready!" exclaimed Jovial,
as the snow-covered form rushed in. "No, it aint, nyther! Miss Hannah!
My goodness, gracious me alibe, is all de worl' gone ravin', starin',
'stracted mad to-night? What de debil fotch you out in de storm at
midnight?" he asked, as Hannah Worth threw off her shawl and stood in
their midst.
"Oh, Jovial! I am looking for poor Nora! Have you seen anything of her?"
asked Hannah anxiously.
"She was here a-sittin' by dat fire, not half an hour ago. And I lef her
to go and fetch my ole 'oman to get somefin hot, and when I come back,
jes' dis wery minute, she's gone!"
"Where, where did she go?" asked Hannah, clasping hear hands in the
agony of her anxiety.
"Out o' doors, I see by her little foot-prints a-leading away from de
door; dough I 'spects dey's filled up by dis time. I was jes' agwine out
to look for her."
"Oh, bless you, Jovial!"
"Which way do you think she went, Miss Hannah?"
"Home again, I suppose, poor child."
"It's a wonder you hadn't met her."
"The night is so dark, and then you know there is more than one path
leading from Brudenell down into the valley. And if she went that way
she took a different path from the one I came by."
"I go look for her now! I won't lose no more time talkin'," and the old
man clapped his hat upon his head and picked up his lantern.
"I will go with you, Jovial," said Nora's sister.
"No, Miss Hannah, don't you 'tempt it; tain't no night for no 'oman to
be out."
"And dat a fact, Miss Hannah! don't you go! I can't 'mit of it! You stay
here long o' me till my ole man fines her and brings her back here; an'
I'll have a bit of supper ready, an' you'll both stop wid us all night,"
suggested Dinah.
"I thank you both, but I cannot keep still while Nora is in danger! I
must help in the search for her," insisted Hannah, with the obstinacy of
a loving heart, as she wrapped her shawl more closely around her
shoulders and followed the old man out in the midnight storm. It was
still snowing very fast. Her guide went a step in front with the
lantern, throwing a feeble light upon the soft white path that seemed to
sink under their feet as they walked. The old man peered about on the
right and left and straight before him, so as to miss no object in his
way that might be Nora.
"Jovial," said Hannah, as they crept along, "is it true about the young
foreign lady that arrived here last night and turned out to be the wife
of Mr. Herman?"
"All as true as gospel, honey," replied the old man, who, in his love
of gossip, immediately related to Hannah all the particulars of the
arrival of Lady Hurstmonceux and the flight of Herman Brudenell. "Seems
like he run away at the sight of his wife, honey; and 'pears like she
thinks so too, 'cause she's taken of it sorely to heart, scarce' holdin'
up her head since. And it is a pity for her, too, poor young thing; for
she's a sweet perty young cre'tur', and took Miss Nora's part like an
angel when de old madam was a-callin' of her names, and orderin' of her
out'n de house."
"Calling her names! ordering her out of the house! Did Mrs. Brudenell
dare to treat Nora Worth so?" cried Hannah indignantly.
"Well, honey, she did rayther, that's a fact. Law, honey, you know
yourself how ha'sh ladies is to poor young gals as has done wrong. A
hawk down on a chicken aint nuffin to 'em!"
"But my sister has done no wrong; Nora Worth is as innocent as an angel,
as honorable as an empress. I can prove it, and I will prove it, let the
consequences to the Brudenells be what they may! Called her ill names,
did she? Very well! whether my poor wronged child lives or dies this
bitter night, I will clear her character to-morrow, let who will be
blackened instead of her! Ordered her out of the house, did she? All
right! we will soon see how long the heir himself will be permitted to
stop there! There's law in the land, for rich as well as poor, I reckon!
Threatened her with a constable, did she? Just so! I wonder how she will
feel when her own son is dragged off to prison! That will take her
down--"
Hannah's words were suddenly cut short, for Jovial, who was going on
before her, fell sprawling over some object that lay directly across the
path, and the lantern rolled down the hill.
"What is the matter, Jovial?" she inquired.
"Honey, I done fell--fell over somefin' or oder; it is--law, yes--"
"What, Jovial?"
"It's a 'oman, honey; feels like Miss Nora."
In an instant Hannah was down on her knees beside the fallen figure,
clearing away the snow that covered it.
"It is Nora," she said, trying to lift the insensible body; but it was a
cold, damp, heavy weight, deeply bedded in the snow, and resisted all
her efforts.
"Oh, Jovial, I am afraid she is dead! and I cannot get her up! You come
and try!" wept Hannah.
"Well, there now, I knowed it--I jest did; I knowed if she was turned
out in de snow-storm this night she'd freeze to death! Ole mist'ess aint
no better dan a she-bearess!" grumbled the old man, as he rooted his
arms under the cold dead weight of the unfortunate girl, and with much
tugging succeeded in raising her.
"Now, den, Miss Hannah, hadn't I better tote her back to my ole 'oman?"
"No; we are much nearer the hut than the hall, and even if it were not
so, I would not have her taken back there."
They were in fact going up the path leading to the hut on the top of the
hill. So, by dint of much lugging and tugging, and many breathless
pauses to rest, the old man succeeded in bearing his lifeless burden to
the hut.