Four days after Denecker had refused his consent to the marriage, a
hired carriage might have been Been drawing up carefully in a screen of
wood that bordered a by-road about half a league from Grinselhof. A
young man got out of it, and, giving directions to the coachman to await
him at a neighboring inn, walked briskly across the moor toward the old
_château_. As soon as Grinselhof began to loom up over the trees, he
moved cautiously along behind the hedges and thickets, as if seeking to
avoid observation; and then, stealing across the bridge, he opened the
gate, passed through the dense copse that surrounded the house, and
entered the garden.
The first object that greeted his sight was Lenora, seated at her table
beneath the well-known catalpa, with her head resting on the board,
evidently absorbed in sorrow. Her back was turned toward him as he
approached; and, although he advanced with the utmost caution, the
sound of his footsteps disturbed her in the intense silence of the spot,
and she leaped to her feet, while the name of Gustave broke in surprised
accents from her lips. She was evidently anxious to escape into the
house; but her lover threw himself on his knees, and, grasping her hand,
poured forth a passionate appeal:--
"Listen to me, Lenora! listen to me! If you fly and refuse me the
consolation of telling you with my last farewell, all I have suffered
and all I hope, I will either die here at your feet, or I will go hence
forever, a broken-hearted wanderer over the face of the earth! Listen to
me! listen to me! Listen to me, Lenora, my sister, my beloved, my
betrothed! By our pure and holy love, I beseech you not to repulse me!"
Though Lenora trembled in every limb, her features assumed an expression
of wounded pride, as she answered, with cold decision,--
"Your boldness surprises me, sir! You are indeed a daring man, to appear
again at Grinselhof after your uncle's insulting conduct to my father!
He is ill in bed; his soul is crushed by the outrage. Is this the reward
of all my affection for you?"
"Oh, God! oh, God! Lenora, do I hear _you_ accuse me? Alas! what have I
done, and what could I prevent?"
"There is nothing, sir, any longer, in common between us," said the
girl. "If we are not as rich as you, the blood that runs in our veins
cannot suffer by comparison. Arise! begone! I will see you no more!"
"Mercy! pity!" exclaimed Gustave, lifting his clasped hands toward her;
"mercy, Lenora, for I am innocent!"
The maiden dashed away the tears that began to start in her eyes, and,
turning her back on him, was about to depart.
"Cruel, cruel!" exclaimed Gustave, in broken tones. "Can you leave me
without a farewell?--without a word of consolation? Will you remain
insensible to my grief and deaf to my prayers? 'Tis well; I will submit
to my lot, for _you_ have decided it! You, Lenora, my love, have
sentenced me! I forgive you: be happy on earth without me, and farewell
forever!"
As he uttered those words his strength seemed utterly to fail him, and,
sinking into the chair which Lenora had quitted, his head and arms fell
lifeless on the table.
The determined girl had made a few steps in her retreat to the house,
when she suddenly halted on hearing the agonized tones of Gustave's
farewell and the sudden sound of his fall on the table. As she glanced
backward at the convulsed frame of her lover, a spasm that denoted the
violent conflict between duty and affection passed over her beautiful
face; and, as her heart appeared gradually to conquer in the fight, the
tears began to pour in showers from her eyes. Step by step and slowly
she retraced the path to the table, and leaning over the sufferer, took
one of his hands tenderly in hers:--
"Are we not wretched, Gustave? Are we not wretched?"
At the touch of that gentle hand and the sound of that beloved voice,
life seemed once more to stir in his veins, and, raising his eyes
languidly to hers, he gazed mournfully into them as he half said, half
sighed,--
"Lenora, dear Lenora, have you come back to me? Have you taken pity on
my agony? You do not _hate_ me, do you?" "Is a love like ours
extinguished in a day?" returned Leonora, with a sigh.
"Oh, no, no!" cried Gustave aloud; "it is eternal! Is it not eternal,
Lenora, and omnipotent against every ill as long as the hearts beat in
our bosoms?"
Lenora bowed her head and cast down her eyes.
"Do not imagine, Gustave," said she, solemnly, "that our separation
causes me less grief than it does you; and, if the assurance of my love
can assuage the pangs of absence, let it strengthen and encourage you.
My lonely heart will keep your image sacred in its holiest shrine; I
will follow you in spirit wherever you go, and I will love you till
death shall fill up the gulf that separates us. We shall meet again
above, but never more on earth."
"You are mistaken, Lenora," cried Gustave, with a feeble expression of
joy; "you are mistaken! There is still hope; my uncle is not
inexorable, and his compassionate heart must yield to my despair."
"That may be," replied Lenora, in sad but resolute tones; "that may be,
Gustave; but my father's honor is inflexible. Leave me, Gustave; I have
already disobeyed my father's orders too long, and slighted my duty in
remaining with a man who cannot become my husband. Go now; for, if we
should be surprised by some one, my poor, wretched father would die of
shame and anger."
"One moment more, beloved Lenora! Hear what I have to tell you. My uncle
refused me your hand; I wept, I besought him, but nothing could change
his determination. In despair I was transported beyond myself; I
rebelled against my benefactor; and, treating him like an ungrateful
wretch, I said a thousand things for which I begged his pardon on my
knees when reason resumed her empire over my excited soul. My uncle is
goodness itself to me: he pardoned my sin; but he imposed the condition
that I should instantly undertake a journey with him to Italy, which he
has long designed making. He idly hopes that travel may obliterate your
image from my mind; but think not, Lenora, that I can ever forget you! A
sudden thought flashed through my fancy, and I accepted his terms with a
secret joy. For months and months I will be alone with my uncle; and,
watching him ever with the love and gratitude I feel for all his
kindness, I will gradually wear away his objections, and, conquering his
heart, return, my love, to place the bridal wreath upon your brow, and
claim you, before the altar of God, as the companion of my choice!"
For an instant a gentle smile overspread the maiden's face, and her
clear, earnest gaze was full of rapture at the vision of future
happiness; but the gleam disappeared almost as quickly as it arose, and
she answered him, with bitter sadness,--
"Alas! my dear friend, it is cruel to destroy this last hope of your
heart; and yet I must do it. Your uncle might consent; but my father--"
She faltered for an instant.
"Your father, Lenora? Your father would pardon all and receive me like a
long-lost son."
"No, no; believe it not, Gustave; for his honor has been too deeply
wounded. As a Christian he might pardon it; but as a gentleman he will
never forget the outrage."
"Oh, Lenora, you are unjust to your father. If I return with my uncle's
consent, and say to him, 'I will make your child happy; give her to me
for my wife; I will surround her path with all the joys a husband has
ever bestowed on woman;'--if I tell him this, think you he will deny
me?"
Lenora cast down her eyes.
"You know his infinite goodness, Gustave," said she. "My happiness is
his only thought on earth; he will thank God and bless you."
"Yes, yes; he _will_ consent," continued Gustave, with ardor; "and all
is not lost. A blessed ray lightens our future, and let it rekindle your
hope, beloved of my heart! Yield not to grief; let me go forth on this
dreary journey, but let me bear along with me the assurance that you
await my return with trust in God. Remember me in your prayers; utter my
name as you stray through these lonely paths which witnessed the dawn of
our love and where for two months I drained the cup of perfect bliss.
The knowledge that I am not forgotten by you will sustain my heart and
enable me to endure the pangs of separation."
Lenora wept in silence. Her lover's eloquence had extinguished every
spark of her pride; and the rebellious heart which so lately was ready
to cast off its rosy fetters had no longer a place for any thing but
love and sadness. Gustave saw that he had conquered.
"I go, Lenora," said he, "strong in your affection. I quit my country
and my loved one with a confident hope. Whatever may happen to me, I
will never be downcast. You will think of me daily, Lenora, will you
not?"
"Alas! I have promised my father that I will forget you!" sobbed the
maiden, as her hand trembled in his.
"_Forget_ me!" exclaimed Gustave. "_Can_ you force yourself to forget
me?"
"No, Gustave; NO!" said she, firmly, fixing her large eyes on him with
an intense and lingering gaze. "No: for the first time in my life I
will disobey my father. I feel that I have net the strength to keep my
idle word. I cannot forget you: till the last hour of my life I will
love you; for it is my fate, and I cannot resist."
"Thanks, thanks, a thousand thanks, Lenora!" exclaimed Gustave, in a
transport. "Thy tender love strengthens me against destiny. Beloved of
my heart, rest here under the guardian eye of God. Thy image will follow
me in my journey like a protecting angel; in joy and grief, by day and
night, in health and sickness, thou, Lenora, wilt ever be present to me!
This cruel separation wounds my heart beyond expression; but duty
commands, and I must obey. Farewell, farewell!"
He wrung her hands convulsively, and was gone.
"Gustave!" sobbed the poor girl, as she sank on the chair and allowed
the pent-up passion of her soul to burst forth in tears.