THE YOUNG LOVERS.
It was more than an hour after the boat had reached the landing-place,
and, fatigued with a long, bright, happy day, Ammian and Eudochia had
sought the repose of hearts at ease; while Flavia, sitting with her
daughter and Theodore in the small chamber near the great Corinthian
hall in the palace of Diocletian, busied herself with manifold
questions in regard to those friends of other years, in Constantinople
and in Rome, from whom she had voluntarily separated herself, in order
to lead her children up to years of free agency, at a distance from
the luxury and corruption of either great metropolis. The anecdotes
which he had to relate, the little traits and rumours which he had
collected concerning those whom she had once loved dearly, seemed of
greater interest to the Lady Flavia than even the news of more
personal importance which he had told her. Yet that news imported that
the cession of a portion of Illyria by Valentinian to Theodosius was
completely defined--that the dwelling in which she had found a home,
by the interest of Paulinus, was now fully transferred from the
monarch of the West, who had shown a strong disposition to despoil her
of her lands in distant provinces, to the chief of the Eastern empire,
who, on the contrary, had hitherto given her kindly aid and
protection; and that her possession of that sweet spot, near which
many of the estates of her dead husband lay, was confirmed to her by
the hand of Theodosius himself.
The lamp had been placed at her right hand, in order that she might
peruse the letter of Paulinus; but still she had not proceeded to that
task. What were the feelings which stayed her, it were difficult to
say; but the open pages lay unread by her side; and though she more
than once took them up, as if to begin, she laid them down again as
often, and asked some new question. At length, as the moonlight found
its way through the half-drawn curtains of the door, she once more
raised the letter, saying, "Well, I will read it now," and her eye
again fixed upon the first few words.
"Notwithstanding, gentle Flavia," so the epistle ran, "the desire I
had expressed to keep hidden from my son and our sweet Ildica our
hopes and purposes, yet feelings that I cannot well explain, but which
I will now attempt to depict, have induced me, sure of your consent
and approbation, to tell him, ere he left me--perhaps for the last
time--that it was my wish and hope, if his own heart seconded my
desire, that he should in his twentieth year choose the one we both so
dearly love for his bride."
Flavia raised her eyes to her daughter and the son of Paulinus, who
had, in the occupation which had just employed her, a fair excuse for
speaking in low and gentle murmurs. They had farther drawn back the
curtains, and were gazing from the door upon the moonbeams which
lighted up the great hall; and a bright, warm smile upon the mother's
face told that her own heart took kindly part in the fond feelings
which were so busy in theirs. She turned to the letter again, however,
without comment, and read on. "I am about," continued Paulinus, "to
travel through the provinces, and the will of God may require that I
shall never return. I know not why, but I have a sadness upon me. As
the sun goes down, small objects cast long shadows; and I have fancied
that I once, and only once, beheld a cold look in the eye of the
emperor towards me, a triumphant smile on the countenance of
Chrysapheus; yet if ever omens were infallible, they would be the
smiles of our enemies and the coldness of our friends. Nevertheless,
let me acknowledge all my weakness--weakness which philosophy cannot
conquer, and which it were wisdom to conceal from any other eye than
thine, oh, thou that hast been as a sister to my widowed heart, as a
mother to my orphan children. Before any evil augury could be drawn
from the looks of others, my own heart seemed to feel the coming on of
fate. There has been a shadow on my spirit, an apprehension of coming
evil, a sensation of neighbouring danger, such as domestic animals
feel when near a lion, even without seeing it."
Flavia laid down the page, murmuring, "And is it so, Paulinus? alas,
and is it so? Go forth, my children," she added, abruptly, seeing them
still standing in the doorway; "you seem as if you longed to taste the
moonlight air. Go forth! It is a grand sight to gaze upon the waters
of the Adriatic from that noble portico. It expands the heart, it
elevates the mind, it raises the soul to the God who made all things.
Go forth, then, my children, I would willingly be alone."
They needed no second bidding; for she told them to do that which had
lain as a longing at their hearts ever since she had begun to read.
Not a year before, when they had last parted, they would have waited
no command--nay, no permission; but would at once, in the unconscious
liberty of the young heart, bound forth to enjoy the scenes they
loved, in the society that they loved not less--that of each other.
But a change had come over their feelings since then, rendering all
their intercourse more sweet, a thousand times more sweet, but more
timid also. Theodore, indeed, knew why; for his father's parting
words--the solemn sanction which Paulinus had given to his future
union with Ildica, in case death should prevent a father's lips from
pronouncing the blessing at their marriage feast--had opened his eyes
to the nature of his own sensations. No sooner had the few first words
been uttered by Paulinus than he had felt at once that his love for
Ildica was more than fraternal affection; that it was different--how
different!--from that which he experienced towards Eudochia; how
different from that which he entertained towards any other human
being! With Ildica, the knowledge was more vague: it was more a
sensation than a certainty. So long as Theodore had been with her she
had gone on treating him as a brother; but with the feelings of her
heart changing towards him still, as imperceptibly, but still as
completely, as the green small berry changes to the purple grape, the
verdant bud to the expanded and to the yellow leaf. So long as he had
been with her she had felt no alteration, though it took place; but
during his absence she meditated on those things long and deeply; and
on his return she met him with not less affection, but with deep and
timid emotions, mingling a consciousness with her every look, which
was sweet to the eye that saw it, and that wished it to be so.
Theodore raised the curtain, and Ildica passed out; but ere she had
taken two steps in that grand moonlight hall, Theodore's hand clasped
hers, and he led her on through all those splendid apartments--which
have been, even in ruins, the wonder and the admiration of all after
days--to the vast colonnade, six hundred feet in length, which fronted
and overlooked the beautiful Adriatic. As they passed, in the various
apartments of the slaves and domestics were to be seen lights, and to
be heard many a gay voice laughing; and at the end of the principal
streets of the palace, for it had its streets as well as corridors,
two or three groups were seen playing in the moonlight with polished
pieces of bone, or, with loud and vehement gesticulations, disputing
about their game. Theodore almost feared that the portico itself might
be tenanted by some such party; and his heart had anticipated an hour
of lonely wandering with her he loved so eagerly, that he might not
have brooked disappointment with old and stoical patience. That
portico, however, was considered by the general inhabitants of the
palace, and those also of the neighbouring village, as in some degree
sacred ground. It was there that the great emperor, after having
conquered and reigned in glory through the prime of life, after having
satisfied the vengeful zeal of his counsellors against the Christian
sects, which now, in spite of all his persecutions, peopled the whole
land, after having made his name awful by deeds of blood not less than
by deeds of magnificence, had been accustomed to sit, self-stripped of
his power, and to gaze out, _after having been an emperor_, upon
nearly the same scene which his eyes beheld _before he was anything
but a slave_. Although little more than a century had elapsed since
the death of Diocletian, his fate and history, his acts and his
character, had been strangely distorted by tradition; and though the
peasantry had not learned to look upon him as a bad man, or to
execrate him as a tyrant, yet the extraordinary vicissitudes which he
had hewn out for himself, the vague legends of his acts during life,
and the mystery attaching to his death, surrounded his memory with a
fearful awe, which held the people of the neighbourhood aloof from the
spot for which he had shown such peculiar fondness, when night covered
the world with her dim and fanciful shades.
The portico was vacant; happy sounds rose up from the shore, where the
fishermen were lingering beside their boats; and a merry laugh, or
snatches of some light song, were heard from the neighbouring village,
sinking into the hearts of Ildica and Theodore with the power of a
charm, waking associations of sweet domestic joy, dim and undefined,
but thrilling--potent--overpowering. Oh! who can tell the many magic
avenues through which all the external things of the wide universe
find, at some time or other, means of communicating with the inmost
heart--avenues, the gates of which are shut till, at some cabalistic
word of grief, or joy, or hope, or fear, they suddenly fly open, and
we find in our bosom a thousand sweet and kindred fellowships, with
things which had never learned to touch or agitate us before.
Glad and cheerful, yet calm, were the sounds that broke occasionally
upon the listening ear of night; and grand and solemn, but still
gentle, was the scene which lay stretched beneath the risen moon; but
the sensations which were in the breasts of the two rendered those
sounds and sights a thousand fold sweeter, a thousand fold more dear;
and, in return, the gay, distant voices, and the calm, wide, moonlight
sea, seemed to draw forth and render intense, even to overwhelming, in
the souls of Theodore and Ildica,
"Into the mighty vision passing,"
the inborn joy of all the new emotions to which that day had given
life within their hearts. They paused and listened to the melody of
innocent mirth, and paused and gazed upon the bright world before
them. Ildica's hand trembled in that of Theodore, and her heart beat
quick; but he felt that she was his, and that she was agitated; and
with the gentleness of true affection, though without any definite
plan for sparing her, he took the very means of telling his first tale
of love so as to agitate as little as possible the young and tender
being, all whose deepest feelings were given to him alone.
"Hark!" he said, "hark, dear Ildica! how gay and sweet those merry
voices sound! Some lover come back from wandering like me, tells the
glad story of his journey done to the ear of her who has watched for
him in absence."
Ildica grew more calm, and raised her eyes, too, to Theodore, not
without some feeling of surprise, so different was his tone, so much
more manly were his words than when they had parted. There had been,
up to that moment, one thing, perhaps, wanting in her love towards
him--the conscious feeling of man's ascendency: she had loved with
passion deep, sincere, and ardent; but she had loved as a girl, and
looked upon him still as the companion of her early sports. His words
and tone--the words and tone of one who had mingled with, and taken
his place among men--put the last rose to the wreath. She felt that
thenceforth to him she could cling for protection--to him she could
turn for guidance and direction.
But Theodore went on. "Some lover," he said, "or perhaps some husband,
Ildica, returned from the labours of the day to home, and happiness,
and sweet domestic love! Oh, dear Ildica, since I have been away,
often have I, in wandering through different provinces, lodged in the
dwellings of traders in the towns, or in the cottages of shepherds and
labourers in the mountains and the plains; and the most beautiful, the
most blessed thing that I have ever seen has been found as often, if
not oftener, in the hut of the herd, or the house of the common
merchant, as in the marble palaces of the C[ae]sars, and within
the walls of imperial cities. Oh, that sweet domestic love! that
blessing--that bright blessing! which, like the glorious light of the
sun, shines alike on every condition and on every state, cheering,
enlivening, enlightening, all who shut it not out from their own dark
hearts by vices and by crimes. Hark, hark! dear Ildica, how those gay
voices seem to chime to my words, speaking of love, and joy, and hope!
Oh, Ildica, dear Ildica! may not such things be also for you and me?"
Ildica sunk down on the stone seat by which they had been standing,
but she left her hand still in his, and he felt it tremble. Nor did he
himself speak unmoved; for his ardent nature, and the first breaking
forth of those dear and treasured thoughts, shook his whole frame; and
scarcely daring to trust his lips with further words, he placed
himself by her side, murmuring only, "Dearest Ildica!" She answered
only with a long-drawn, agitated sigh; and, gliding his arm round her
soft waist, he drew her gently to his bosom.
"Oh, Theodore, is not this wrong?" she asked, but without attempting
to free herself from his embrace.
"Wrong, my Ildica? wrong, my beloved?" he exclaimed: "oh, no! God
forbid that I should ever seek to make you do or feel aught that is
evil! No, no, dearest, my father's blessing will attend our union; he
has promised, he has given it: our dear mother's consent was spoken to
him long ago!"
"Indeed!" cried Ildica.
"Yes, indeed," he said, pressing her again closer to his bosom, from
which she had partly raised herself as she spoke. "Yes, indeed,
Ildica! Joyful did my father's words sound in my ear, as he told me
that, if I could win your love, I might hope for your hand. Nothing
now is wanting to my happiness but one dear word from my Ildica's
sweet lips. Oh, speak it, beloved! Speak it; and say you will be
mine." She could not find voice to utter the deep feelings of her
heart; but her cheek sunk glowing upon his shoulder, and their lips
met in the first dear, long, thrilling kiss of happy and acknowledged
love.