CRUELTY—A CHAMBER SCENE.
Thou knowest not the meekness of love,
How it suffers and yet can be still—
How the calm on its surface may prove
What sorrow the bosom may fill.
_—Mrs. Ellis._
Early the next morning Mrs. Garnet arose softly, without awaking the
general, and thrusting her small feet in wadded slippers, and drawing on
her wadded dressing-gown, passed into her daughter’s chamber for the
purpose of looking silently upon her while she slept, to see whether she
bore the fatigue of the ball well. She went in softly, drew the curtains
of the bedstead, and to her surprise, found that it had not been slept
in. Her first thought, of course, was that Elsie had remained all night
at Point Pleasant.
She felt disappointed, and returned immediately to her own chamber, rang
for her maid, and proceeded with her morning toilet.
Her maid, Milly, entered, bearing on her arm the cloak and hood that
Elsie had worn to Point Pleasant, and afterward dropped while being
dragged through the passage. Mrs. Garnet gazed at her in fixed
astonishment, saying:
“Why, where did you get those, Milly? Is it possible that your Miss
Elsie has returned so early this morning? Where is she?”
“Miss Elsie returned last night, missis, and must have dropped these in
the passage, for that is where I found them.”
“Returned last night! Her bed has not been occupied! Where is she?”
exclaimed Mrs. Garnet, dropping the long mass of golden curls that she
had been twisting into a knot, and standing aghast with vague terror.
“Where is she? What is the meaning of this? Why do you look so
strangely? Oh, my God! what has happened to my child? Speak this moment,
Milly! What do you know of it?”
“I thought you must a’ known, Miss Ally; marster’s locked her up in the
garret.”
All the blood of the Chesters rushed to the brow of Alice, and crimsoned
it.
“Locked Elsie up in the attic!” she exclaimed. Then: “Give me the keys!
Where are they? Bring me the keys instantly!”
“Please, Miss Ally, marster took the garret key off of the bunch, and
put it in his pocket.”
“Leave me, Milly. Go! Hasten! Go downstairs! I don’t want you this
morning,” said Alice, conscious of having betrayed too much emotion in
the presence of her servant.
Milly left the room, and Alice hastened, with a flushed brow, and
trembling hand, to the big armchair at the head of the bed, over the
back of which hung the general’s clothing that he had worn the night
before. Alice searched all the pockets of the overcoat in vain. And she
took up the dress coat.
But while Alice was hunting for the key, the general had risen upon his
elbow, and, unseen by her, was watching her motions with a demoniac
leer.
Alice searched all the pockets of the dress coat, and it was not there.
Then she raised the vest, and in the pocket found the key. She seized it
eagerly, and was about to fly off with it when a heavy blow felled her
to the floor! The key dropped from her hand. General Garnet stooped and
repossessed himself of it, and looking at her with a laughing devil in
his eye, said:
“Oh, was that you? Excuse me, madam! I beg ten thousand pardons; but
waking up suddenly, and seeing a hand in my pocket, I naturally enough
supposed it to be that of a thief! It’s Heaven’s mercy that I had not
shot you by mistake, my dear!”
But seeing that she did not move, he leaned further over the side of the
bed, and perceived that in falling the back of her head had struck the
corner of the dressing bureau, and that she was stunned by the
concussion—stunned or dead, he did not know which. He jumped to the
floor and raised her. Her head and limbs fell helplessly over his arms.
He laid her on the bed, ran his fingers through the golden tresses of
her hair, but found no fracture; there might be a concussion of the
brain, but there was no outward sign.
He started to the bell to ring it, but before he got there changed his
mind and returned, locked the door, went to the bureau, and taking a
couple of linen handkerchiefs, tore them in strips, and took a lancet
from his case (all planters kept such things for the exigencies of the
plantation). He then went to the bedside, ripped up the sleeve of
Alice’s dress, and baring the arm, opened a vein. As the blood began to
flow—first very sluggishly, then faster—she opened her eyes and looked
at him. He then bound up her arm, and telling her that he hoped this
sharp lesson would teach her the danger of opposing his will again, left
her and proceeded to dress himself.
Alice attempted to rise, but her head grew dizzy, her eyes dim, and she
sank back at the same moment that he sternly bade her be still, and not
venture to leave her bed that day. He dressed, and left the chamber.
At noon General Garnet returned and entered the room, and approaching
the bedside asked Alice how she felt.
“Only drowsy, inclined to sleep while lying down, but sick and dizzy and
blind when I attempt to rise.”
“If that be the case, you must not, upon any account, yield to that
inclination to sleep. It is dangerous; you must rise and sit up.”
“I cannot—I wish I could—I cannot. I turn deadly sick as soon as my head
is lifted.”
“Alice—I—think I must bleed you again,” he said, taking out the lancet
and baring her arm. Then he hesitated a moment; he doubted whether this
second bleeding would be right, but he resolved to risk it rather than
risk the exposure of their secret by sending for a physician. He opened
the vein again, and while the blood was trickling, looked so full of
solicitude that Alice felt sorry for him, and said:
“Never mind; don’t you know I knew it was an accident—the striking of my
head against the bureau.” She now looked so much better again that he
ventured to say, as he bound up her arm:
“I hope, Alice, that this will be a profitable lesson to you, at least.
Consider. You—you might have been killed.” Then he raised her in a
sitting posture, propped pillows behind her, took a seat in the big
chair, and said: “This is really a trifle as it turns out, Alice. This
dizziness will soon pass away if you sit up. Only, I hope, as I said
before, that this will be a warning to you, for it might have been much
more serious, or even fatal. It is dangerous, Alice, dangerous to rebel
either by stratagem or force against just authority. And, now listen,
for I wish to talk to you of Elsie for two reasons—first, to keep you
from falling into an injurious sleep; and, secondly, to let you know my
reason for confining her, and my plans and purposes toward her.”
And then General Garnet, for the first time, openly avowed to his wife
his fixed determination to break off forever the projected marriage
between Magnus and Elsie, and to bestow the hand of the latter upon
Lionel Hardcastle, giving her his reasons in full for doing so, and
declaring his intention to keep Elsie confined until her consent was
obtained, and to take her then from her room at once to the altar, that
no deception might be practiced. Alice dreaded lest he should ask her
opinion, or her co-operation. Fortunately for her, he did not consider
either of the least importance, and soon rising, left the room and went
down to dinner.
Alice pressed both hands to her head and groaned forth the prayer:
“Oh, God! guide me aright through this labyrinth of crossing duties,
lest I lose my way!”
In the afternoon General Garnet went out again.
And soon after he was gone Milly entered her mistress’ chamber and put
in her hand a little slip of paper, which she said Elsie had given her
as she handed in her dinner.
Alice took it eagerly. It was the flyleaf of her pocket prayer-book, and
on it was picked with a pin the sentence:
“Say something to me, beloved mother.”
Alice asked for a pencil, and wrote:
“To-morrow I will write, dear child.” And then the pencil dropped from
her hand. “Milly, when you take her supper up, give her that,” she said,
and closed her eyes from exhaustion.