staring into my very soul like a spirit from the tomb, awakening there
a horror infinitely deeper than any I had felt before, though I knew it
was but the signal of returning life to the sufferer, and that I ought
to rouse myself and welcome it with suitable ministrations, instead of
sitting there like a statue of fear in the presence of an impending
fate. But do what I would, say to myself what I would, I could not
stir. A nightmare of terror was upon me, and not till I saw the stony
lips move and the face take a look of life in the effort made to speak,
did I burst the spell that held me and start to my feet. Even then I
dared not look around nor raise my voice to warn the sleeper behind me
that the moment so long waited for had come. A power behind myself
seemed to hold me silent, waiting, watching for those words that
struggled to life so painfully before me. At last they came, filling
the room with echoes hollow as they were awful!
"Dwight! Guy! If you do not want me to haunt you, swear you will never
divulge what took place between you and Mr. Barrows at the mill."
"_Mother_!" rang in horror through the room. And before I could turn my
head, Dwight Pollard leaped by me, and hiding the face of the dying
woman on his breast, turned on me a gaze that was half wild, half
commanding, and said:
"Go for my brother! He is in the northwest room. Tell him our mother
raves." Then, as I took a hurried, though by no means steady, step
towards the door, he added: "I need not ask you to speak to no one
else?"
"No," my cold lips essayed to utter, but an unmeaning murmur was all
that left them. The reaction from hope and trust to a now really
tangible fear had been too sudden and overwhelming.
But by the time I had reached the room to which I had been directed, I
had regained in a measure my self-control. Guy Pollard at least should
not see that I could be affected by any thing which could happen in
this house. Yet when, in answer to my summons, he joined me in the
hall, I found it difficult to preserve the air of respectful sympathy I
had assumed, so searching was his look, and so direct the question with
which he met his brother's message.
"My mother raves, you say; will you be kind enough to tell me what her
words were?"
"Yes," returned I, scorning to prevaricate in a struggle I at least
meant should be an honest one. "She called upon her sons, and said that
she would haunt them if ever they divulged what took place between them
and Mr. Barrows at the mill."
"Ah!" he coldly laughed; "she does indeed rave." And while I admired
his self-control, I could not prevent myself from experiencing an
increased dread of this nature that was so ready for all emergencies
and so panoplied against all shock.
I might have felt a more vivid apprehension still, had I known what was
passing in his mind as we traversed the hall back to the sick-chamber.
But the instinct which had warned me of so much, did not warn me of
that, and it was with no other feeling than one of surprise that I
noted the extreme deference with which he opened his mother's door for
me, and waited even in that moment of natural agitation and suspense
for me to pass over the threshold before he presumed to enter himself.
Dwight Pollard, however, did not seem to be so blind, for a change
passed over his face as he saw us, and he half rose from the crouching
position he still held over his mother's form. He subsided back,
however, as I drew to one side and let Guy pass unheeded to the bed,
and it was in quite a natural tone he bade me seat myself in the alcove
towards which he pointed, till his mother's condition required my
services.
That there was really nothing to be done for her, I saw myself in the
one glimpse I caught of her face as he started up. She was on the verge
of death, and her last moments were certainly due to her children. So I
passed into the alcove, which was really a small room opening out of
the large one, and flinging myself on the lounge I saw there, asked
myself whether I ought to shut the door between us, or whether my
devotion to Ada's cause bade me listen to whatever came directly in my
way to hear? The fact that I was in a measure prisoned there, there
being no other outlet to the room than the one by which I had entered,
determined me to ignore for once the natural instincts of my ladyhood;
and pale and trembling to a degree I would not have wished seen by
either of these two mysterious men, I sat in a dream of suspense,
hearing and not hearing the low hum of their voices as they reasoned
with or consoled the mother, now fast drifting away into an endless
night.
Suddenly--shall I ever forget the thrill it gave me?--her voice rose
again in those tones whose force and commanding power I have found it
impossible to describe.
"The oath! the oath! Dwight, Guy, by my dying head----"
"Yes, mother," I heard one voice interpose; and by the solemn murmur
that followed, I gathered that Guy had thought it best to humor her
wishes.
The long-drawn sigh which issued from her lips testified to the relief
he had given her, and the "Now Dwight!" which followed was uttered in
tones more gentle and assured.
But to this appeal no solemn murmur ensued, for at that instant a
scream arose from the bed, and to the sound of an opening door rang out
the words: "Keep her away! What do you let her come in here for, to
confound me and make me curse the day she was born! Away! I say, away!"
Horrified, and unable to restrain the impulse that moved me, I sprang
to my feet and rushed upon the scene. The picture that met my eyes
glares at me now from the black background of the past. On the bed,
that roused figure, awful with the shadows of death, raised, in spite
of the constraining hands of her two sons, into an attitude expressive
of the most intense repulsion, terror, and dread; and at the door, the
fainting form of the pretty, dimpled, care-shunning daughter, who,
struck to the heart by this poisoned dart from the hand that should
have been lifted in blessing, stood swaying in dismay, her wide blue
eyes fixed on the terrible face before her, and her hands outstretched
and clutching in vague fear after some support that would sustain her,
and prevent her falling crushed to the floor.
To bound to her side, and lift her gently out of her mother's sight,
was the work of a moment. But in that moment my eyes had time to see
such a flash of infinite longing take the place of the fierce passions
upon that mother's face, that my heart stood still, and I scarcely knew
whether to bear my burden from the room, or to rush with it to that
bedside and lay it, in all its childlike beauty, on that maddened
mother's dying breast. A low, deep groan from the bed decided me. With
that look of love on her face, otherwise distorted by every evil
passion, Mrs. Pollard had fallen back into the arms of her two sons,
and quietly breathed her last.
VII.
ADVANCES.
For they are actions that a man might play;
But I have that within which passeth show.
--HAMLET.
"Miss Sterling?"
I was sitting by the side of Mrs. Harrington in her own room. By a
feverish exertion of strength I had borne her thither from her mother's
chamber, and was now watching the returning hues of life color her pale
cheek. At the sound of my name, uttered behind me, I arose. I had
expected a speedy visit from one of the brothers, but I had been in
hopes that it would be Dwight, and not Guy, who would make it.
"I must speak to you at once; will you follow me?" asked that
gentleman, bowing respectfully as I turned.
I glanced at Mrs. Harrington, but he impatiently shook his head.
"Anice is at the door," he remarked. "She is accustomed to Mrs.
Harrington, and will see that she is properly looked after." And,
leading the way, he ushered me out, pausing only to cast one hurried
glance back at his sister, as if to assure himself she was not yet
sufficiently recovered to note his action.
In the hall he offered me his arm.
"The gas has not yet been lighted," he explained, "and I wish you to go
with me to the parlor."
This sounded formidable, but I did not hesitate. I felt able to
confront this man.
"I am at your service," I declared, with a comfortable sensation that
my tone conveyed something of the uncompromising spirit I felt.
The room to which he conducted me was on the first floor, and was
darkness itself when we entered. It was musty, too, and chill, as with
the memory of a past funeral and the premonition of a new one.
Even the light which he soon made did not seem to be at home in the
spot, but wavered and flickered with faint gasps, as if it longed to
efface itself and leave the grand and solitary apartment to its wonted
atmosphere of cold reserve. By its feeble flame I noted but two
details: one was the portrait of Mrs. Pollard in her youth, and the
other was my own reflection in some distant mirror. The first filled me
with strange thoughts, the face was so wickedly powerful, if I may so
speak; handsome, but with that will beneath its beauty which, when
allied to selfishness, has produced the Lucretia Borgias and Catherine
de Medicis of the world.
The reflection of which I speak, dimly seen as it was, had, on the
contrary, a calming effect upon my mind. Weary as I undoubtedly was,
and pale if not haggard with the emotions I had experienced, there was
still something natural and alive in my image that recalled happier
scenes to my eyes, and gave me the necessary strength to confront the
possibilities of the present interview..
Mr. Pollard, who in his taciturn gloom seemed like the natural genius
of the spot, appeared to be struck by this same sensation also, for his
eyes wandered more than once to the mirror, before he summoned up
courage, or, perhaps, I should say, before he took the determination to
look me in the face and open the conversation. When he did, it was
curious to note the strife of expression between his eye and lip: the
one hard, cold, and unyielding; the other deprecating in its half-smile
and falsely gentle, as if the mind that controlled it was even then
divided between its wish to subdue and the necessity it felt to win.
"Miss Sterling," so he began, "it would be only folly for me to speak
as if nothing had occurred but an ordinary and natural death. It would
be doing your good sense and womanly judgment but little honor, and
putting myself, or, rather, ourselves--for we children are but one in
this matter--in a position which would make any after-explanations
exceedingly difficult. For explanations can be given, and in a word;
for what has doubtless struck you as strange and terrible in my
mother's last hours,--explanations which I am sure you will be glad to
accept, as it is not natural for one so blooming in her womanliness to
wish to hamper her youth with dark thoughts, or to nurse suspicions
contrary to her own candid and noble nature."
He paused, but meeting with no response beyond a rather cool bow, the
strife between his eye and lip became more marked. He went on, however,
as if perfectly satisfied, his voice retaining its confident tone,
whatever the disturbance communicated to his inward nature.
"The explanation to which I allude is this," said he. "My mother for
the past three months has been the victim of many unwholesome
delusions. The sickness of my father, which was somewhat prolonged,
made great inroads upon her strength; and his death, followed by the
necessity of parting with Mrs. Harrington--whom you perhaps know was
for family reasons married immediately upon my father's decease,--sowed
the seed of a mental weakness which culminated on her deathbed into a
positive delirium. She had a notion, and has had it for weeks, unknown
to every one but my brother and myself, that Mrs. Harrington had been
the occasion of some great misfortune to us; whereas the innocent girl
had done nothing but follow out her mother's wishes, both in her
marriage and in her settlement in a distant town. But the love my
mother had felt for her was always the ruling passion of her life, and
when she came to find herself robbed of a presence that was actually
necessary to her well-being, her mind, by some strange subtlety of
disease I do not profess to understand, confounded the source of her
grief with its cause, attributing to this well-beloved daughter's will
the suffering, which only sprang out of the circumstances of the case.
As to her wild remarks in regard to Mr. Barrows," he added, with
studied indifference, "and the oath she wished us to take, that was but
an outgrowth of the shock she had received in hearing of the
clergyman's death. For, of course, I need not assure you, Miss
Sterling, that for all our readiness to take the oath she demanded,
neither my brother nor myself ever were at the mill, or knew any more
of the manner or cause of Mr. Barrows' death than you do."
This distinct denial, made in quiet but emphatic tones, caused me to
look up at him with what was perhaps something of an expressive glance.
For at its utterance the longing cry had risen in my heart, "Oh, that
it were Dwight who had said that!" And the realization which it
immediately brought of the glad credence which it would have received
from me had it only fallen from _his_ lips caused an inward tremble of
self-consciousness which doubtless communicated itself to my glance.
For Guy Pollard, without waiting for any words I might have to say,
leaned towards me with a gratified air, and with what I would like to
call a smile, exclaimed:
"You have been in the house scarce twenty-four hours, but I feel as if
I could already give you the title of friend. Will you accept it from
me, Miss Sterling, and with it my most cordial appreciation and esteem?"
"Ah, this is mere bait!" I thought, and was tempted to indignantly
repel the hand he held out; but something restrained me which I am to
proud to call fear, and which in reality I do not think was fear, so
much as it was wonder and a desire to understand the full motive of a
condescension I could not but feel was unprecedented in this arrogant
nature. I therefore gave him my hand, but in a steady, mechanical way
that I flattered myself committed me to nothing; though the slight but
unmistakable pressure he returned seemed to show that he took it for a
sign of amity, if not of absolute surrender.
"You relieve me of a great weight," he acknowledged. "Had you been of
the commonplace type of woman, you might have made it very
uncomfortable for us." "And what have I said and done," I could not
help remarking, though neither so bitterly nor with so much irony as I
might have done had that desire of which I have spoken been less keen
than it was, "to lead you to think I shall not yet do so?"
"Your glance is your surety," was the response he made. "That and your
honest hand, which does not lightly fall in that of a stranger." And
with a real smile now, though it was by no means the reassuring and
perhaps attractive one he doubtless meant it to be, he fixed me with
his subtle glance, in which I began to read a meaning, if not a
purpose, that made the blood leap indignantly to my heart, and caused
me to feel as if I had somehow stumbled into a snare from which it
would take more than ordinary skill and patience to escape.
A look down the shadowy room restored my equanimity, however. It was
all so unreal, so ghostly, I could not help acknowledging to myself
that I was moving in a dream which exaggerated every impression I
received, even that which might be given by the bold gaze of an
unscrupulous man. So I determined not to believe in it, or in any thing
else I should see that night, unless it were in the stern soul of the
woman who had just died; a qualification which my mind could not help
making to itself as my eyes fell again upon her portrait, with its
cruel, unrelenting expression.
"You do not feel at home!" exclaimed Guy, interpreting according to his
needs my silence and the look I had thrown about me. "I do not wonder,"
he pursued. "Dreariness like this has little to do with youth and
beauty. But I hope"--here he took a step nearer, while that meaning
look--oh, my God! was I deceiving myself?--deepened in his eyes--"I
hope the day will come when you will see the sunshine stream through
the gloom of these dim recesses, and in the new cheer infused into the
life of this old mansion forget the scenes of horror that encompassed
the beginning of our friendship." And with a bow that seemed to
intimate that necessity, and not his wishes, forced him to terminate
this interview, he was stepping back, when the door opened quickly
behind him, and the face of Dwight Pollard showed itself on the
threshold.
The look he cast first at his brother and then at me caused a fresh
tumult to take place in my breast. Was it displeasure he showed? I was
pleased to think so. I could not be sure of his feeling, however, for
almost on the instant his brow cleared, and advancing with an excuse
for his interruption, he spoke a few low words to Guy. The latter
gravely bowed, and with just a slight glance in my direction,
immediately left the room. I was once more alone with Dwight Pollard.
He seemed to feel the situation as much as I did, for it was several
moments before he spoke, and when he did, his voice had a subdued
tremble in it which I had not noticed before.
"Miss Sterling," he remarked, "my brother has been talking to you,
trying, I presume, to explain to you the distressing scene to which you
have just been witness."
I bowed, for I seemed to have no words to say, though he evidently
longed to hear me speak.
"My brother is not always considerate in his manner of address," he
went on, after a moment's intent scrutiny of my face. "I hope he has
not made you feel other than satisfied of our good-will towards you?"
"No," I faintly smiled, wishing I knew what feeling prompted this
subtle attempt to learn the nature of the interview which had just
passed. "Mr. Guy Pollard has never been any thing but polite to me."
He looked at me again as if he would read my very soul, but I gave him
no help to its understanding, and he presently dropped his eyes.
"Did he tell you," he at last resumed, with some effort, "that it is
our wish for you to remain in this house till our mother is buried?"
"No," I returned, "he said nothing about it."
"But you will do so?" he queried, in that rich and deep tone which
thrilled so dangerously to my heart.
"I--I must have time to think," I faltered, taken by surprise, and not
seeing my way as clearly as I could wish. "It is my desire to attend
the funeral of Mr. Barrows and Miss Reynolds, and--Mr. Pollard!" I
suddenly exclaimed, taking perhaps the most courageous resolution of my
life, "I must be honest with you. It is useless for me to deny that the
manner and circumstances of your mother's death have made a great
impression upon me; that I cannot, in spite of all explanations, but
connect some special significance to the oath you were requested to
take; and that, weakened as your mother may have been, something more
terrible than the mere shock of hearing of her pastor's sudden decease
must have occasioned emotions so intense as to end in death and
delirium. If, therefore, you are willing to assure me, as your brother
has done, that it was entirely a fancy of hers that you ever held any
communication with Mr. Barrows at the mill, I will gladly promise to
disabuse my mind of all unfavorable impressions, and even promise to
stay here, if such be your desire, till the days of your trouble are
over, and the body of your mother is laid in her grave."
"And has my brother given you such an assurance as you speak of?"
"He has," I returned.
"Then why do you ask one from me?"
Was it possible for me to tell him?
"If it was not enough coming from his lips, how could it be coming from
mine?" he continued.
Shame and confusion kept me silent.
"Would it be?" he persisted, this time with feeling and something like
a hint of eagerness in his voice.
I dared not say "Yes," and yet I must have the assurance I demanded, if
ever I was to know peace again.
"You no not answer; but I think, I feel confident you would believe my
word, Miss Sterling."
"I have asked for it," I returned.
He turned frightfully pale; it seemed as if he would speak, but the
words did not come. I felt, my heart growing sick, and as for him, he
started violently away from my side, and took a turn or two up and down
the room.
"I cannot deny what looks like an accusation," he declared at last,
coming and standing before me with a sombre but determined air. "My
pride alone is sufficient to deter me. Will you accept from me any
thing less. I am not such a man as my brother."
"I will accept your assurance that as the true friend to Ada Reynolds I
may remain in this house without stain to her memory or love."
"Then you think--"
"No," said I, with a burst I could not control, "I do not think; I do
not want to think; do not make me, I entreat."
He smiled, a sad and fearful smile, and took another turn up and down
the seemingly darkening room. When he came back I was cold as marble,
and almost as insensible.
"Miss Sterling," were his words, "do you remember a conversation we had
this morning?"
I bowed, with a sudden rush of hope that almost melted me again.
"In that conversation I made a solemn assertion; do you recollect what
it was?"
"Yes," I looked, if I did not audibly reply.
"I make that assertion again--is it sufficient?" he asked.
At that moment it seemed to me that it was. I looked and felt as if a
great weight had been lifted from my heart, and though he flushed
deeply, as any man of spirit, let alone one of such a proud and
aristocratic nature as his, would be apt to under the circumstances, I
saw that he experienced a relief also, and giving way to an impulse I
do not yet know whether to regret or not, I held out my hand, saying
calmly:
"I will remain, Mr. Pollard."
VIII.
A FLOWER FROM THE POLLARD CONSERVATORY.
You may wear your rue with a difference.
--HAMLET.
Mrs. Harrington did not immediately recover from the shock she had
received. I therefore found myself fully employed the next day. Towards
evening, however, a respite came, and I took the opportunity for a
stroll up-street, as much for the sake of hearing the gossip of the
town as to escape from the atmosphere of sorrow and perplexity by which
I was surrounded.
My walk down to the gate was full of a certain uneasy apprehension. I
had made no secret of my intentions at the supper-table, and for the
reason that neither of the brothers had ventured upon any reply to my
remark, I expected one, if not both, of them to join me on the way. But
I reached the last turn of the path without meeting any one, and I was
congratulating myself upon the prospect of having an hour of perfect
freedom, when I detected, leaning on the gate before me, the firm,
well-knit figure of a man.
As the two Pollards were more or less alike in form, I could not
distinguish at first glance which of the brothers it was. I therefore
faltered back a step, and was indeed debating whether I should not give
up my project and return to the house, when I saw the gentleman's head
turn, and realized that it was too late to retreat. I therefore
advanced with as much calmness as I could assume, determined not to
vary my conduct, no matter which of the brothers it should turn out to
be. But, to my great surprise, the gentleman before me gave me no
opportunity to test my resolution. No sooner did he perceive me than he
made a hurried gesture that I did not at that moment understand; and,
just lifting his hat in courteous farewell, vanished from my sight in
the thick bushes which at that place encumbered the grounds.