THE ORPHAN.
"Let me die, father! I fear, I fear
To fall in earth's terrible strife!"
"Not so, my child, for the crown must be won
In the battle-field of Life."
--_Life and Death._
"He has gone to sleep again," said Clara, with a sigh of relief.
"He has gone to heaven, my child," said Marah Rocke, softly.
The orphan started, gazed wildly on the face of the dead, turned ghastly
pale and, with a low moan and suffocating sob, fell fainting into the
motherly arms of Mrs. Rocke.
Marah beckoned Traverse, who lifted the insensible girl tenderly in his
arms and, preceded by his mother, bore her to her chamber and laid her
upon the bed.
Then Marah dismissed Traverse to attend to the duties owed to the
remains of the beloved departed, while she herself stayed with Clara,
using every means for her restoration.
Clara opened her eyes at length, but in reviving to life also returned
to grief. Dreadful to witness was the sorrow of the orphan girl. She had
controlled her grief in the presence of her father and while he lingered
in life, only to give way now to its overwhelming force. Marah remained
with her, Holding her in her arms, weeping with her, praying for her,
doing all that the most tender mother could do to soothe, console and
strengthen the bleeding young heart.
The funeral of Doctor Day took place the third day from his decease, and
was attended by all the gentry of the neighboring town and county in
their own carriages, and by crowds who came on foot to pay the last
tribute of respect to their beloved friend.
He was interred in the family burial ground, situated on a wooded hill
up behind the homestead, and at the head of his last resting place was
afterwards erected a plain obelisk of white marble, with his name and
the date of his birth and death and the following inscription:
"He is not here, but is risen."
"When dear Clara comes to weep at her father's grave, these words will
send her away comforted and with her faith renewed," had been Traverse
Rocke's secret thought when giving directions for the inscription of
this inspiring text.
On the morning of the day succeeding the funeral, while Clara, exhausted
by the violence of her grief, lay prostrate upon her chamber couch, Mrs.
Rocke and Traverse sat conversing in that once pleasant, now desolate,
morning reading-room.
"You know, dear mother, that by the doctor's desire, which should be
considered sacred, Clara is still to live here, and you are to remain to
take care of her. I shall defer my journey West until everything is
settled to Clara's satisfaction, and she has in some degree recovered
her equanimity. I must also have an interview and a good understanding
with her guardian, for whom I have a message."
"Who is this guardian of whom I have heard you speak more than once,
Traverse?" asked Marah.
"Dear mother, will you believe me that I have forgotten the man's name;
it is an uncommon name that I never heard before in my life, and, in the
pressure of grief upon my mind, its exact identity escaped my memory;
but that does not signify much, as he is expected hourly; and when he
announces himself, either by card or word of mouth, I shall know, for I
shall recognize the name the moment I see it written or hear it spoken.
Let me see, it was something like Des Moines, De Vaughn, De Saule, or
something of that sort. At all events, I'm sure I shall know it again
the instant I see or hear it. And now, dear mother, I must ride up to
Staunton to see some of the doctor's poor sick that he left in my charge
for as long as I stay here. I shall be back by three o'clock. I need not
ask you to take great care of that dear suffering girl up-stairs," said
Traverse, taking his hat and gloves for a ride.
"I shall go and stay with her as soon as she awakes," answered Mrs.
Rocke.
And Traverse, satisfied, went his way.
He had been gone perhaps an hour when the sound of a carriage was heard
below in the front of the house, followed soon by a loud rapping at the
hall door.
"It is dear Clara's guardian," said Marah Rocke, rising and listening.
Soon a servant entered and placed a card in her hand, saying:
"The gentleman is waiting in the hall below, and asked to see the person
that was in charge here, ma'am; so I fotch the card to you."
"You did right, John. Show the gentleman up here," said Marah; and as
soon as the servant had gone she looked at the card, but failed to make
it out. The name was engraved in Old English text, and in such a
complete labyrinth, thicket and network of ornate flourishes that no one
who was not familiar at once with the name and the style could possibly
have distinguished it.
"I do not think my boy would know this name at sight," was Marah's
thought as she twirled the card in her hand and stood waiting the
entrance of the visitor, whose step was now heard coming up the stairs.
Soon the door was thrown open and the stranger entered.
Marah, habitually shy in the presence of strangers, dropped her eyes
before she had fairly taken in the figure of a tall, handsome,
dark-complexioned, distinguished-looking man, somewhat past middle age,
and arrayed in a rich military cloak, and carrying in his hand a
military cap.
The servant who had admitted him had scarcely retired when Marah looked
up and her eyes and those of the stranger met--and--
"Marah Rocke!!!"
"Colonel Le Noir!!!"
Burst simultaneously from the lips of each.
Le Noir first recovered himself, and, holding out both hands, advanced
toward her with a smile as if to greet an old friend.
But Marah, shrinking from him in horror, turned and tottered to the
farthest window, where, leaning her head against the sash, she moaned:
"Oh, my heart: my heart! Is this the wolf to whom my lamb must be
committed?"
As she moaned these words she was aware of a soft step at her side and a
low voice murmuring:
"Marah Rocke, yes! the same beautiful Marah that, as a girl of
fifteen--twenty years ago--turned my head, led me by her fatal charms
into the very jaws of death--the same lovely Marah with her beauty only
ripened by time and exalted by sorrow!"
With one surprised, indignant look, but without a word of reply, Mrs.
Rocke turned and walked composedly toward the door with the intention of
quitting the room.
Colonel Le Noir saw and forestalled her purpose by springing forward,
turning the key and standing before the door.
"Forgive, me, Marah, but I must have a word with you before we part," he
said, in those soft, sweet, persuasive tones he knew so well how to
assume.
Marah remembered that she was an honorable matron and an honored mother;
that, as such, fears and tremors and self-distrust in the presence of a
villain would not well become her; so calling up all the gentle dignity
latent in her nature, she resumed her seat and, signing to the visitor
to follow her example, she said composedly:
"Speak on, Colonel Le Noir--remembering, if you please, to whom you
speak."
"I do remember, Marah; remember but too well."
"They call me Mrs. Rocke who converse with me, sir."
"Marah, why this resentment? Is it possible that you can still be angry?
Have I remained true to my attachment all these years and sought you
throughout the world to find this reception at last?"
"Colonel Le Noir, if this is all you had to say, it was scarcely worth
while to have detained me," said Mrs. Rocke calmly.
"But it is not all, my Marah! Yes, I call you mine by virtue of the
strongest attachment man ever felt for woman! Marah Rocke, you are the
only woman who ever inspired me with a feeling worthy to be called a
passion----"
"Colonel Le Noir, how dare you blaspheme this house of mourning by such
sinful words? You forget where you stand and to whom you speak."
"I forget nothing, Marah Rocke; nor do I violate this sanctuary of
sorrow"--here he sank his voice below his usual low tones--"when I speak
of the passion that maddened my youth and withered my manhood--a passion
whose intensity was its excuse for all extravagances and whose enduring
constancy is its final, full justification!"
Before he had finished this sentence Marah Rocke had calmly arisen and
pulled the bell rope.
"What mean you by that, Marah?" he inquired.
Before she replied a servant, in answer to the bell, came to the door
and tried the latch, and, finding it locked, rapped.
With a blush that mounted to his forehead and with a half-suppressed
imprecation, Colonel Le Noir went and unlocked the door and admitted the
man.
"John," said Mrs. Rocke, quietly, "show Colonel Le Noir to the apartment
prepared for him and wait his orders." And with a slight nod to the
guest she went calmly from the room.
Colonel Le Noir, unmindful of the presence of the servant, stood gazing
in angry mortification after her. The flush on his brow had given way to
the fearful pallor of rage or hate as he muttered inaudibly:
"Insolent beggar! contradiction always confirms my half-formed
resolutions. Years ago I swore to possess that woman, and I will do it,
if it be only to keep my oath and humble her insolence. She is very
handsome still; she shall be my slave!"
Then, perceiving the presence of John, he said:
"Lead the way to my room, sirrah, and then go and order my fellow to
bring up my portmanteau."
John devoutly pulled his forelocks as he bowed low and then went on,
followed by Colonel Le Noir.
Marah Rocke meanwhile had gained the privacy of her own chamber, where
all her firmness deserted her.
Throwing herself into a chair, she clasped her hands and sat with
blanched face and staring eyes, like a marble statue of despair.
"Oh, what shall I do? what shall I do while this miscreant remains
here?--this villain whose very presence desecrates the roof and
dishonors me? I would instantly leave the house but that I must not
abandon poor Clara.
"I cannot claim the protection of Traverse, for I would not provoke him
to wrath or run him into danger; nor, indeed, would I even permit my son
to dream such a thing possible as that his mother could receive insult!
"Nor can I warn Clara of the unprincipled character of her guardian, for
if she knew him as he is she would surely treat him in such a way as to
get his enmity--his dangerous, fatal enmity!--doubly fatal since her
person and property are legally at his disposal. Oh, my dove! my dove!
that you should be in the power of this vulture! What shall I do, oh,
heaven?"
Marah dropped on her knees and finished her soliloquy with prayer. Then,
feeling composed and strengthened, she went to Clara's room.
She found the poor girl lying awake and quietly weeping.
"Your guardian has arrived, love," she said, sitting down beside the bed
and taking Clara's hand.
"Oh, must I get up and dress to see a stranger?" sighed Clara, wearily.
"No, love; you need not stir until it is time to dress for dinner; it
will answer quite well if you meet your guardian at table," said Marah,
who had particular reasons for wishing that Clara should first see
Colonel Le Noir with other company, to have an opportunity of observing
him well and possibly forming an estimate of his character (as a young
girl of her fine instincts might well do) before she should be exposed
in a tete-a-tete to those deceptive blandishments he knew so well how to
bring into play.
"That is a respite. Oh, dear Mrs. Rocke, you don't know how I dread to
see any one!"
"My dear Clara, you must combat grief by prayer, which is the only thing
that can overcome it," said Marah.
Mrs. Rocke remained with her young charge as long as she possibly could,
and then she went down-stairs to oversee the preparation of the dinner.
And it was at the dinner-table that Marah, with the quiet and gentle
dignity for which she was distinguished, introduced the younger members
of the family to the guest, in these words:
"Your ward, Miss Day, Colonel Le Noir."
The colonel bowed deeply and raised the hand of Clara to his lips,
murmuring some sweet, soft, silvery and deferentially inaudible words of
condolence, sympathy and melancholy pleasure, from which Clara, with a
gentle bend of her head, withdrew to take her seat.
"Colonel Le Noir, my son, Doctor Rocke," said Marah, presenting
Traverse.
The colonel stared superciliously, bowed with ironical depth, said he
was "much honored," and, turning his back on the young man, placed
himself at the table.
During the dinner he exerted himself to be agreeable to Miss Day and
Mrs. Rocke, but Traverse he affected to treat with supercilious neglect
or ironical deference.
Our young physician had too much self-respect to permit himself to be in
any degree affected by this rudeness. And Marah, on her part, was glad,
so that it did not trouble Traverse, that Le Noir should behave in this
manner, so that Clara should be enabled to form some correct idea of his
disposition.
When dinner was over Clara excused herself and retired to her room,
whither she was soon followed by Mrs. Rocke.
"Well, my dear, how do you like your guardian?" asked Marah, in a tone
as indifferent as she could make it.
"I do not like him at all!" exclaimed Clara, her gentle blue eyes
flashing with indignation through her tears; "I do not like him at all,
the scornful, arrogant, supercilious--Oh! I do not wish to use such
strong language, or to grow angry when I am in such deep grief; but my
dear father could not have known this man, or he never would have chosen
him for my guardian; do you think he would, Mrs. Rocke?"
"My dear, your excellent father must have thought well of him, or he
never would have intrusted him with so precious a charge. Whether your
father's confidence in this man will be justified as far as you are
concerned, time will show. Meanwhile, my love, as the guardian appointed
by your father, you should treat him with respect; but, so far as
reposing any trust in him goes, consult your own instincts."
"I shall; and I thank heaven that I have not got to go and live with
Colonel Le Noir!" said Clara, fervently.
Mrs. Rocke sighed. She remembered that the arrangement that permitted
Clara to live at her own home with her chosen friends was but a verbal
one, not binding upon the guardian and executor unless he chose to
consider it so.
Their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a servant with a
message from Colonel Le Noir, expressing a hope that Miss Day felt
better from her afternoon's repose, and desiring the favor of her
company in the library.
Clara returned an answer pleading indisposition, and begging upon that
account to be excused.
At tea, however, the whole family met again. As before, Colonel Le Noir
exerted himself to please the ladies and treated the young physician
with marked neglect. This conduct offended Miss Day to such a degree
that she, being a girl of truth in every thought, word and deed, could
only exhibit toward the guest the most freezing politeness that was
consistent with her position as hostess, and she longed for the time to
come that should deliver their peaceful home and loving little circle
from the unwelcome presence of this arrogant intruder.
"How can he imagine that I can be pleased with his deference and
courtesy and elaborate compliments, when he permits himself to be so
rude to Traverse? I hope Traverse will tell him of our engagement, which
will, perhaps, suggest to him the propriety of reforming his manners
while he remains under a roof of which Traverse is destined to be
master," said Clara to herself, as she arose from the table and, with a
cold bow, turned to retire from the room.
"And will not my fair ward give me a few hours of her company this
evening?" inquired Colonel Le Noir in an insinuating voice, as he took
and pressed the hand of the doctor's orphan daughter.
"Excuse me, sir; but, except at meal times, I have not left my room
since"--here her voice broke down; she could not speak to him of her
bereavement, or give way in his presence to her holy sorrow. "Besides,
sir," she added, "Doctor Rocke, I know, has expressed to you his desire
for an early interview."
"My fair young friend, Doctor Rocke, as you style the young man, will
please to be so condescending as to tarry the leisure of his most humble
servant," replied the colonel, with an ironical bow in the direction of
Traverse.
"Perhaps, sir, when you know that Doctor Rocke is charged with the last
uttered will of my dear father, and that it is of more importance than
you are prepared to anticipate, you may be willing to favor us all by
granting this 'young man' an early audience," said Clara.
"The last uttered will! I had supposed that the will of my late
brother-in-law was regularly drawn up and executed and in the hands of
his confidential attorney at Staunton."
"Yes, sir; so it is; but I refer to my father's last dying wishes, his
verbal directions entrusted to his confidential friend Doctor Rocke,"
said Clara.
"Last verbal directions, entrusted to Doctor Rocke. Humph! Humph! this
would require corroborative evidence," said the colonel.
"Such corroborative evidence can be had, sir," said Clara, coldly "and
as I know that Doctor Rocke has already requested an interview for the
sake of an explanation of these subjects, I must also join my own
request to his, and assure you that by giving him an early opportunity
of coming to an understanding with you, you will greatly oblige me."
"Then, undoubtedly, my sweet young friend, your wishes shall be
commands--Eh! you--sir! Doctor--What's-your-name! meet me in the library
at ten o'clock to-morrow morning," said Le Noir, insolently.
"I have engagements, sir, that will occupy me between the hours of ten
and three; before or after that period I am at your disposal," said
Traverse, coldly.
"Pardieu! It seems to me that I am placed at yours!" replied the
colonel, lifting his eyebrows; "but as I am so placed by the orders of
my fair little tyrant here, so be it--at nine to-morrow I am your most
obedient servant."
"At nine, then, sir, I shall attend you," said Traverse, with a cold
bow.
Clara slightly curtsied and withdrew from the room, attended by Mrs.
Rocke.
Traverse, as the only representative of the host, remained for a short
time with his uncourteous guest, who, totally regardless of his
presence, threw himself into an armchair, lighted a cigar, took up a
book and smoked and read.
Whereupon Traverse, seeing this, withdrew to the library to employ
himself with finishing the arranging and tying up of certain papers left
to his charge by Doctor Day.