THE SHADOW OF PARTING.
So absorbed was Alston in his rumination, that it was not until he
felt Helen's gentle touch upon his shoulder that he was aware of her
presence.
'Has my melancholy been infectious?' said she, bending tenderly over
him, and bringing her face close to his. 'Is it possible that what I
said about your going could have turned your thoughts in the same
direction?'
'Not at all,' said he, with a half smile; 'my thoughts were of quite
another kind. I was thinking--'
'Hush!' she said, laying her little hand softly on his lips. 'Don't
say you were thinking of business; that hated rival displaces me in
your mind far too much as it is, but to give up to it such moments as
these would be sacrilege. I will be your sole consideration now,
until--until--'
'Until the end of my life,' said Alston, passing his arm tenderly
round her; 'and your jealousy of my absence and all those connected
with it is a mere pretence, a playful pastime, as you very well know.'
'Let us settle it so,' said Helen, 'and quit the subject. Meanwhile,'
she said, taking from her pocket a morocco case, 'I have a present for
you, Alston, and one,' placing it in his hand, 'which I think you will
like.'
He opened it, and saw gleaming on the blue velvet a plain but costly
gold hunting-watch.
'Thanks, dearest one,' he said, taking it in his hand and looking
tenderly up at her. 'I shall like it, because, by its aid, I shall
check off every hour that brings me nearer to my home and to you.'
'Why, Alston,' said Helen, laying her hand tenderly on his, 'do you
know that is quite a poetical sentence? I fear your reputation as a
practical man would be lost for ever if it were known in Wall-street
that you had given utterance to such a remark. But,' she added, taking
the watch from him, 'it will have, I trust, a still stronger value in
your eyes.'
She touched a spring, and the back flying open revealed an admirably
executed coloured photograph, a likeness of herself; underneath was
engraved the date, 'February 20th, 1871.'
'O, how glorious!' said Alston Griswold, with surprise. 'It is a
wonderful likeness,' said he, after a little pause, during which he
had been looking fondly at the picture; 'somewhat too sad and serious,
perhaps, for my Helen.'
'It reflects the shadow of parting which hung over your Helen at the
time it was taken, as the engraved date underneath will never cease to
remind you; you see it, Alston, the one dark day in our married life.'
'You shall regard it in a very different light, dear one,' said her
husband; 'you shall learn to look upon it as the day on which your
husband entered into an undertaking by which his fortune was
perfected, and he was left freed from the cares of business to devote
the remainder of his existence to his wife and his home.'
'God grant it!' said Helen fervently. 'Each time that you look upon
that picture, Alston, think upon what you have said just now, and come
what may, make up your mind not to leave me alone again.'
'You speak of being alone, dear, as though you were on a desolate
island, instead of in New York, surrounded by troops of friends.'
'I am always alone when I am without you; and as to friends, I am not
sanguine as to their taking much interest in our affairs, or helping
me to smooth any difficulties which may arise in my path.'
'There is one, at least, among them of whom you must not speak so
lightly,' said Alston in a grave voice; 'one who has already been
tried and proved himself in the highest degree trustworthy, and in
whom my confidence is such that I am about to ask him for further
proof of his friendship.'
Helen's glance shifted instantly from her husband's face and dropped
upon the ground. She knew instinctively to whom he was alluding.
Should she in that last moment give utterance to her detestation and
distrust? Should she implore Alston to authorise her to deny herself
to Mr. Warren, and entreat him to select some other friend as his
agent in the transaction of any business which might be necessary
between them? She paused for an instant in reflection. What reason
could she give for such a course of action? What real and tangible
ground of complaint had she against this man? None at all. A vague
dislike, an undefined suspicion, were all she could bring forward; and
these her husband's practical common sense would induce him, with all
his love for her, to reject at once.
'I am glad that we possess such a friend, Alston,' said Helen, after a
pause. 'I say "we," because, allied as we are, not merely formally but
in heart, without the smallest shade of division between us, this
mysterious unknown could not be your friend without, as it seems to
me, being mine.'
'There is no mystery about me, dear one,' said Alston, 'for I am
speaking of Trenton Warren; and as to his being your friend, he would
only too gladly prove himself if you would give him greater
opportunity of so doing.'
'Greater opportunity, Alston!' she cried. 'Have I then been remiss
in--'
'Remiss in nothing which concerns the duties of a wife,' said he
tenderly; 'only I thought I had noticed--it may have been
imagination--that there was a certain coldness and avoidance in your
manner towards Warren. He is himself somewhat of my temperament,
Helen, engrossed in business, unaccustomed to make the polite advances
common in society, and liable to take flight immediately if he did not
find his attentions appreciated.'
The bitter word rose in Helen's mouth as she listened. 'I am sorry
that Mr. Warren,' she commenced, and then better reflection came to
her aid, and she broke off that sentence. 'I will not have you compare
Mr. Warren to yourself,' she resumed, 'for there is no one like you in
the world; but I have no doubt that Mr. Warren means very well, and I
certainly had no intention of snubbing him, as you seem to fancy I
have done.'
'That is spoken like my own true little wife,' said Alston. 'Then
depend upon it,' he added, assuming an important air, which, under
other circumstances, Helen would have found amusing, 'depend upon it
that the knowledge of human nature which I possess would prevent my
forming an intimate alliance with one who was not worthy of it, and I
want you and Trenton Warren to be the best of friends. It will be the
greatest comfort to me during my absence to know that I have left you
in the charge of one who is worthy of the thorough confidence which we
both equally place in him.'
'You--you are going to leave me in Mr. Warren's charge, Alston?'
'Why, Helen,' replied her husband, with a laugh, 'you speak as though
you were a trembling captive and he a terrific gaoler into whose
custody I was about to deliver you. When I say take charge, I mean
simply this. During my absence it will be necessary that there should
be some one to whom you can refer in any ordinary matters of your
daily life, whom you can call into your council, and by whose decision
you shall abide at any special crisis which that dear, unbusiness-like
little brain might find itself unable to grapple with. For this
confidential position there is no one so fitted as Trenton Warren. He
knows both my private and my business affairs, has a cool clear head,
and on more than one occasion has shown his devotion to my service. I
have told him what is wanted of him, and he will accept the charge.'
Should she speak then? Should she seize what might be the last
opportunity of declaring to him the dread, strong yet undefinable,
which lay so heavy on her soul? Should she brave the chances of his
raillery, his annoyance, even of his anger, by imploring him not to
leave her in this man's power, not to give him any control whatsoever
over her actions, avowing at the same time frankly that, while she
suspected Trenton Warren of deceit and double dealing, she could give
no reason but that internal consciousness which, however powerful in
its operations, had no practical value.
No, she would not do this; she would not send him forth on that
desolate journey amongst strangers with any doubt or distrust at his
heart. Better for her to bear whatever unpleasantness there might be
in her relations with this man rather than perplex her husband during
his absence with an additional source of anxiety. So she looked at him
with a soft smile and said:
'It will doubtless be all right, Alston; and Mr. Warren and I shall
get on very well together. I suppose I have formed an exaggerated idea
of the horrors of this absence of yours. Mrs. Hotchkins, whose husband
is so frequently called over to the other side, says that the time
slips away without one's noticing it; and that she is quite surprised
when she hears the vessel bringing him is telegraphed at Sandy Hook. I
don't think surprise is exactly the phrase which will express my
feelings when I get that welcome news.'
'No, my love; but, then, you are not Mrs. Hotchkins. Nor have I, I
hope, much in common with the eminent dry-goods man. But she is right,
I daresay, as regards the quick passing of the time.'
'I suppose I shall hear from you constantly, Alston?'
'Certainly, dearest; by every mail.
'And I suppose,' she said, glancing up at him with a demure look,
'that you will wish me to write to you occasionally?'
'Occasionally!' he cried. 'You must let me hear from you equally
constantly. And, by the way, I have something to say to you about
that--'
He checked himself just in time. He was on the point of explaining to
her the arrangement he had made that all her letters to him should be
sent under cover to Warren, but he thought it better to keep silence.
Her simple nature never would understand the business necessity which
induced him to adopt another name during his stay in England, in order
that the nature and extent of his operations might not become known in
Wall-street, and thus influence the position of certain transactions
in which he was already known to be deeply engaged. Her trust in him
he flattered himself, was beyond question; but as he had never
suffered her to have the slightest knowledge of business matters (with
which indeed she had shown no inclination to meddle), she could not be
supposed to comprehend that what he intended to do was what was
constantly done for the purpose of preventing one's rivals from
getting a trade advantage, but would look upon it as a deception which
no honourable man ought, under any circumstances, to permit himself to
practise.
Alston Griswold then made up his mind that he would not intrust his
wife with this part of his intentions on the spot, but would send her
word of it only by the letter of instructions which he had already
written, and which, on the eve of his departure and well on board the
ship, he would give to Warren to take to her. Warren was aware of and
approved of his project of taking a false name; and Warren's judgment
was, in Alston's eyes, indisputable. He would defer letting Helen know
about it until he was safely out of reach of objection.
'You said you had something to say to me about that,' said Helen,
recalling him to the conversation; 'you seem to have fallen into a
reverie.'
'It was but a temporary one, dearest, and is immediately dispelled by
the sound of your voice,' said Alston Griswold, rousing himself. 'We
were talking about your letters to me, and what I want to say to you
is this, that you must write every day.'
'Every day!' cried Helen, in astonishment. 'There is not a mail every
day, Alston; you would receive several by the same post, and find quite a
jumble of news.'
'Nevertheless, you must write every day,' he said with a smile,
'though what you write need not be posted; and as to letters, I do not
intend you to send me letters at all; I intend you to keep a diary.'
'A diary!' she echoed; 'I never did such a thing in my life. I have
begun a dozen, kept them up bravely for the first day or two,
forgotten them for a week, and then descended into a series of entries
"nothing particular."'
Griswold laughed. 'That was because you had other things to engross
your mind; now I hope your diary will be your one absorbing topic. It
will be the sole record I shall ever see of your daily life, which,
though absent, I hope and know I shall in a certain sense fill, and it
therefore must be all-interesting and all-important to me.'
'You have thoroughly studied my weak points, Alston,' said Helen,
with a smile, 'and know that that is an argument that I cannot
withstand--the journal shall be kept.'
'Kept from day to day, copiously and full of detail,' said her
husband; 'do not omit anything because you may think it trivial or
uninteresting; the trivialities are probably what will interest me
most. Let me be able to follow your life from day to day through all
the familiar hours of it, and thus endeavour to cheat myself out of
the sense of separation.'
As he spoke these last words, he bent down, and encircling her with
his arms, pressed her to his heart. 'Now let us go and see the child,'
he said--'my little unconscious rival. If she had not existed, you
would have accompanied me on this trip to the old country, and I
consider myself exceedingly generous in still retaining my affection
for her.'
The Cuba was advertised to sail at three P.M., but early the next
morning the house in Fifth-avenue was astir, and with all the bustle
and confusion occasioned by its master's impending departure. Huge
boxes, packages of coats and rugs and piles of clothing, removed from
drawers and submitted to inspection before being packed, lumbered up
the passage; heterogeneous articles, from paper parcels up to
portmanteaus, were continually arriving, their bearers bringing with
them little notes, the writers of which expressed their hope that they
were not giving their friend too much trouble in asking him 'just to
take this across with him;' friends who lived in the neighbourhood,
and did not care to take the trouble of going down to the ship,
dropped in to say good-bye, and were found wandering all over the
house in search of its owner.
And in the midst of all this confusion and all this crowd, Helen
drifted purposelessly about, spoken to by everybody, but scarcely
comprehending what was said to her, and when replies were desired,
answered them vaguely, her eyes filled with tears, her heart sinking
more and more within her as she watched the hand creeping round the
dial, and bringing nearer and nearer the hour at which her husband was
to start.
It had been originally intended that she should accompany Alston to
the ship and take leave of him on board, but she had abandoned that
idea. It would have been impossible for her, she felt, to have
maintained her calmness at such a moment, and for his sake, as well as
for her own, she determined on not making the attempt.
And now the time had come! She saw it in his face as he slowly made
his way up the stairs to where she stood in the doorway of her
boudoir--her own room where they had spent such happy times, and from
the wall of which his portrait was even then looking at her with
something of a sad expression.
Alston took her by the hand and drew her gently into the room, closing
the door behind him.
'The carriage is at the door, darling,' he said in broken tones, 'and
I have not given myself much more than time to get across to the
Cunard wharf. For both our sakes let us make this scene of parting as
short as possible. My darling, my own heart's darling, God bless and
protect you! Recollect the diary; let it be begun tomorrow and write
it fully and freely. Once more, my own one, farewell!'
He held her yielding form to his heart, pressed one long, long kiss
upon her lips, and was gone.
When the carriage drove into the yard of the Cunard wharf in Jersey
City, Alston Griswold saw at a glance that half New York had come to
see him off. He had caught sight of several friends on board the
ferry-boat, but had no idea of their real number until they clustered
round him as he alighted. Wall-street, of course, was well
represented. There was Uncle Dick, rubicund and genial, smacking his
lips as though the flavour of the terrapin which he had eaten for
luncheon at the corner of Chambers-street still hung about his palate;
and at his elbow, of course, was bright-eyed handsome Billy Barstow,
with his hand on every one's shoulder, and his rich voice proclaiming
every one to be his 'dear old boy,' ready, not merely by word, but in
deed, to do universal kindness. And there was Alf Macgregor, the
banker, whom no amount of American citizenship could deprive of his
keen honest Scottish look and sharp incisive accent, and Willersheim
and Schönbrunn, and all the Hebraic-German clique, and scores of
others, to many of whom Alston Griswold had 'done a good turn,' and
all of whom wished him well.
There was to be a final drink--a parting bumper of champagne--in the
saloon, and, followed by the enthusiastic crowd, Alston made his way
on board. But first he took a look at the chief-steward's cabin, which
had been retained for his use, and which he found literally
overflowing with baskets of flowers and floral offerings in pretty and
quaint devices. Some of these were anonymous tributes, others bore the
owners' cards; but there was one on which his eye at once rested--a
large circular basket of primroses, with, in its centre, made of the
freshest and choicest violets, 'Come back.' It did not give Alston
Griswold much trouble to know who was the donor of that basket, or how
fervent was the prayer expressed in that gift. This thought was put to
flight by the arrival of Billy Barstow, who came to inform Alston that
the champagne was ready in the saloon and that he alone was waited
for.
'Give him two minutes with me first,' said Trenton Warren, suddenly
looking over Barstow's shoulder. 'I want to speak to him on business,
Billy, and I will then hand him over safely to you convivial boys.'
'I was looking anxiously for you, Trenton,' said Griswold, when
Barstow had retired; 'I want, as you know, to make you the recipient
of my last words. Here,' taking it from his pocket and handing it to
his friend, is the final letter of instructions for Helen, telling
her, among other matters, that her letters are to come to me under
cover from you. 'I count upon you to place this in her hands yourself.'
'You may rely upon my doing so,' said Warren.
'And at once, if you please,' said Griswold.
'By at once you mean to-day,' said Warren. 'Have you told Mrs.
Griswold to expect a visit from me?'
'No, I have not; but that need make no difference, you know.'
'Of course not,' said Warren. 'Anything more?'
'Yes,' said Griswold, taking a slip of paper from his pocket, 'the
name under which I propose to pass in England.'
Warren took the paper and glanced at it.
'All right,' he said, with a smile, 'that will do very well; not
remarkable and yet not suspiciously common for a man doing big
business--we consider it adopted. Now we must hurry to the saloon, the
time is just up.'
The saloon was reached, the God-speed toast was drunk with all the
honours, Warren and the New Yorkers returned to the shore, and the big
ship noiselessly and almost invisibly headed into the stream and stood
away upon her ocean voyage cheerily, cheerily.
'He had not warned her that I should come to-day,' said Trenton Warren
to himself, as he landed from the ferry at Desbrosses-street, 'so that
I shall not attempt to intrude upon her grief. The delivery of the
letter will do very well to-morrow, and will give me a night during
which to deliberate on my plan of action.'
The next day about noon Trenton Warren called at the house in
Fifth-avenue, and was told by the servant that Mrs. Griswold was not
well enough to receive visitors.
'Take her this card, if you please,' he said quietly, 'and tell her
that I am the bearer of a message from Mr. Griswold.'
In a few minutes the servant returned.
'Walk this way, if you please,' she said; 'Mrs. Griswold will see
you.' And muttering to himself, 'I thought so,' Trenton Warren marched
onward to the assault.