Though the circumstance of discovering a brother in the lover of my
youth seems more like romance than reality, nothing could be more simple
and natural than the explanation of the mystery. His recollection did
not go back to the period recorded in my mother's manuscript, when he
was brought as a lawful heir to the home in which my early infancy was
sheltered. His first remembrances were associated with a mother's sorrow
and loneliness,--with an humble dwelling in one of the by-lanes of the
city of New York, where she toiled with her needle for their daily
bread.
"I remember," said Richard, "how I used to sit on a low stool at my
mother's feet, and watch her, as she wrought in muslin the most
beautiful flowers and devices, with a skill and rapidity which seemed
miraculous to me. Young as I was, I used to wonder that any one could
look so sad, while producing such charming figures. Once, I recollect,
the needle resisted her efforts to draw it through the muslin. She threw
it from her, and taking another from the needle-case met with no better
success.
"'_Oh! mon Dieu!_' she cried, dropping her work in her lap and clasping
her hands, 'my tears rust them.'
"'And why do you let so many fall, mother?' I asked. 'Where do they all
come from?'
"'From a breaking heart,' she answered, and I never forgot her looks or
her words. The breaking heart became an image in my mind, almost as
distinct as the rusted steel. For a long time I was afraid to jump or
bound about the room, lest the fracture in my mother's heart should be
made wider, and more tears come gushing through.
"But she did not always weep. She taught me to read, while she toiled
with her needle, and she told me tales of the genii and of fairy-land,
at twilight hour, or as she used to say, '_entre le loup et le chien_,'
in her own expressive, idiomatic language. She told me, too, stories
from the Bible, before I was able to read them, of Isaac bound on the
sacrificial pyre, with his father kneeling by him, ready to plunge the
knife in his young heart, when the angels called to him out of heaven to
stay his uplifted hand; of Joseph's wondrous history, from his coat of
many colors, fatal cause of fraternal jealousy, to the royal robes and
golden chain with which Pharaoh invested him; of David, the
shepherd-boy, the minstrel monarch, the conqueror of Philistia's giant
chief. It was thus she employed the dim hours between the setting sun
and the rising stars; but the moment she lighted her lonely lamp she
again plied her busy needle, though alas! too often rusted with her
tears.
"Thus my early childhood passed,--and every day my heart twined more
closely round my mother's heart, and I began to form great plans of
future achievements to be wrought for her. I would be a second Joseph
and go to some distant land and win fame, and honors, and wealth, and
send for her that I might lay them all at her feet. She would not, at
first, recognize her boy in the purple and fine linen of his sumptuous
attire; but I would fall on her neck, and lift up my voice and weep
aloud, and then she would know her child. A mother's tears, Gabriella,
nurture great aspirations in a child.
"I used to accompany her to the shop when she carried home her work. It
was there she first met the gentleman whose name I bear. Their
acquaintance commenced through me, to whom he seemed peculiarly
attracted, and he won my admiring gratitude by the gifts he lavished
upon me. He came often to see my mother, and though at first she shrunk
from his visits, she gradually came to welcome him as a friend and a
benefactor.
"One evening, I think I was about eight or nine years old, she took me
in her arms, and told me, with many tears, that Mr. Clyde, the good and
kind gentleman whom I loved so much, had offered to be a father to me,
and was going to take us both to a pleasant home in the country, where I
could run about in the green fields, and be free as the birds of the
air. She told me that perhaps my own father was living, but that he had
left her so long their union was annulled by law, and that she had a
right to marry another, and that she did so that I might have a father
and protector. She explained this simply, so that I understood it all,
and I understood too why she wished me to drop my own name and take that
of her future husband. It was associated with so much sorrow and wrong,
it was painful to her ear, and Mr. Clyde wished me to adopt his own. He
was a good and honorable man, and I cherish his memory with reverence
and gratitude. If the fissure in my mother's heart was not healed, it
closed, and tears no longer dripped through.
"Our country home was pleasant and comfortable, and I revelled in the
delights of nature, with all the wild passion of a bird let loose from
the imprisoning cage. I went to school,--I was in the world of
action,--the energies of incipient manhood awoke and struggled in my
bosom. We remained about two years in this rural residence, situated in
the western part of New York, when Mr. Clyde was called to attend a
dying father, who lived in this town, Gabriella, not very far from the
little cottage in the woods where I first knew you. He took my mother
and myself with him, for she was in feeble health, and he thought the
journey would invigorate her. It did not. A child of sunny France, she
languished under the bleaker New England skies. She was never able to
return; and he who came to bury a father, soon laid a beloved wife by
the side of the aged. My heart went down to the grave with her, and it
was long before its resurrection. My step-father was completely crushed
by the blow, for he loved her as such a woman deserved to be loved, and
mourned as few mourn. He remained with his aged mother in the old
homestead, which she refused to leave, and I was placed in the academy
under the charge of Mr. Regulus, where I first knew and loved you, my
own sister, my darling, beloved Gabriella."
If I had loved Richard before, how much more did I love him now, after
hearing his simple and affecting history, so similar to my own. As I had
never loved him otherwise than as a brother, the revelation which had
caused such a terrible revulsion in his feelings was a sacred sanction
to mine. His nerves still vibrated from the shock, and he could not
pronounce the word sister without a tremulousness of voice which
betrayed internal agitation.
He had but little more to relate. His step-father was dead, and as there
was found to be a heavy mortgage on his estate, he was left with a
moderate income, sufficient to give him an education and a start in
life. His expenses in Europe had been defrayed by some liberal
gentlemen, who still considered themselves the guardians of his
reputation and his fortunes.
It was painful to me to tell the story of our father's crimes, of which
he had heard but a slight outline. When I described our interview in the
Park, he knit his brows over his flashing eyes, and his whole frame
quivered with emotion.
"My poor sister! what a dreadful scene for you. What have you not
suffered! but you shall never know another sorrow from which I can
shield you, another wrong from which I can defend."
"O Richard! when I think of him in his lonely dungeon, alone with
remorse and horror; when I think of my mother's dying injunctions, I
feel as if I must go to him, and fulfil the holy mission she bade me
perform. Read her manuscript; you have a right to its contents, though
they will rend your heart to peruse them; take it with you to your own
room, when you go, for I cannot look on and see you read words that have
been driven like burning arrows through my soul."
When I again met Richard, I could see in his bloodshot eyes what
thoughts were bleeding within.
"My mother left me the same awful legacy," said he. "She left her
forgiveness, if he lived; oblivion of all her wrongs, if dead. Oh! what
bolt of vengeance is red enough for the wretch who could destroy the
happiness of two such women as your mother and mine! All-righteous
Providence, may thy retributive fires--"
"Stop! stop!" I cried, throwing my arms round him, and arresting his
fearful words, "he is our father, you must not curse him. By our
mothers' ashes, by their angels, now perhaps hovering over us, forbear,
my brother, forbear."
"God help me," he exclaimed, his lips turning to an ashy paleness, "I
did not know what I was about to say; but is it not enough to drive one
mad, to think of the fountain of one's life being polluted, poisoned,
and accursed?"
"One drop of the Saviour's blood can cleanse and make it pure, my
brother, if he were only led to the foot of the cross."
Richard's countenance changed; a crimson flush swept over his face, and
then left it colorless.
"My hand is not worthy to lead him there," he cried, "and if it were, I
fear there is no mercy for so hardened, so inveterate a transgressor."
"There _is_, Richard, there _is_. Let the expiring thief bear witness to
a Saviour's illimitable love. Oh! it is sinful to set bounds to God's
immeasurable mercy. Let us go together, my brother. My mother's dream
may yet be realized. Who knows but our weak, filial hands, may lift our
unhappy father from the black abyss of sin and impenitence, Almighty God
assisting us? If heavenly blessings are promised to him who turns a soul
from the error of his ways, think, Richard, how divine the joy, if it be
an erring parent's soul, thus reclaimed and brought home to God? Let us
go, as soon as we have strength to commence the journey. I cannot remain
here, where every thing reminds me of my blighted hopes and ruined
happiness. It seems so like a grave, Richard."
"I wonder you do not hate. I wonder you do not curse me," exclaimed he,
with sudden vehemence, "for it is my rashness that has wrought this
desolation. Dearly have you purchased a most unworthy brother. Would I
had never claimed you, Gabriella; never rolled down such a dark cloud on
your heart and home."
"Say not so, my beloved brother. The cloud was on my heart already, and
you have scarcely made it darker or more chilling. I feel as if I had
been living amid the thunderstorms of tropic regions, where even in
sunshine electric fires are flashing. Before this shock came, my soul
was sick and weary of the conflicts of wild and warring passions. Oh!
you know not how often I have sighed for a brother's heart to lean upon,
even when wedded joys were brightest,--how much more must I prize the
blessing now! Surely never brother and sister had more to bind them to
each other, than you and I, Richard. Suffering and sorrow, life's
holiest sacraments, have hallowed and strengthened the ties of nature."
It was not long before we were able to ride abroad with Mrs. Linwood and
Edith, and it was astonishing how rapidly we advanced in restoration to
health. I could perceive that we were objects of intense interest and
curiosity, from the keen and eager glances that greeted us on every
side; for the fearful tragedy of which I had been the heroine, had cast
a shadow over the town and its surroundings. Its rumor had swept beyond
the blue hills, and Grandison Place was looked upon as the theatre of a
dark and bloody drama. This was all natural. Seldom is the history of
every-day life marked by events as romantic and thrilling as those
compressed in my brief experience of eighteen years. And of all the
deep, vehement passions, whose exhibition excites the popular mind,
there is none that takes such strong hold as jealousy, the terrible
hydra of the human heart.
I believe I was generally beloved, and that a deep feeling of sympathy
for my misfortunes pervaded the community, for I had never been elated
by prosperity; but Ernest, whose exclusiveness and reserve was deemed
haughtiness, was far from being popular. Mrs. Linwood was revered by
all, and blessed as the benefactress of the poor and the comforter of
the afflicted; but she was lifted by fortune above the social level of
the community, and few, very few were on terms of intimacy with the
inmates of the Granite Castle, as Grandison Place was often called. Its
massy stone walls, its turreted roof, sweeping lawn, and elevated
position, seemed emblematic of the aristocracy of its owners; and though
the blessings of the lower classes, and the respect and reverence of the
higher, rested upon it, there was a mediocral one, such as is found in
every community, that looked with envy on those, whose characters they
could not appreciate, because they were lifted so high above their own
level.
I have spoken of Dr. Harlowe and Mr. Regulus as the most valued friends
of the family; but there was one whom it would be ungrateful in me to
omit, and whose pure and sacred traits came forth in the dark hours
through which I had just passed, like those worlds of light which _are
never seen by day_. I allude to Mr. Somerville, the pastor of the
parish, and who might truly be called a man of God. The aged minister,
who had presided over the church during my mother's life, had been
gathered to his fathers, and his name was treasured, a golden sheaf, in
the garner of memory. The successor, who had to walk in the holy
footprints he had left in the valley, was obliged to take heed to his
steps and to shake the dust of earth from his sandals as he went along.
In our day of sunshine he had stood somewhat aloof, for he felt his
mission was to the poor and lowly, to the sons and daughters of want and
affliction; but as soon as sickness and sorrow darkened the household,
he came with lips distilling balm, and hands ready to pour oil on the
bruised and wounded heart.
Methinks I see him now, as when he knelt by my bedside, after I aroused
from my long and deadly trance. No outward graces adorned his person,
but the beauty of holiness was on his brow, and its low, sweet music in
his somewhat feeble accents. It seemed to me as if an angel were
pleading for me, and my soul, emerging as it were from the cold waves of
oblivion, thrilled with new-born life. Had my spirit been nearer to God
during its unconscious wanderings, and brought back with it impressions
of celestial glory never conceived before? I know not; but I know that a
change had passed over it, and that I felt the reality of that eternity,
which had seemed before a grand and ever-receding shadow.
Every day, during Richard's illness and mine, came our good and beloved
pastor, and he always left a track of light behind him. I always felt
nearer heaven when he departed than when he came, for its kingdom was
within him.
To him I confided my wish to accompany my brother on his filial mission,
and he warmly approved it.
"As surely as I believe the Lord has put it into your heart to go," said
he, "do I believe that a blessing will follow you."
Mrs. Linwood was more tardy in her sanction.
"My dear child," she said, looking at me with the tenderest compassion,
"you do not know what is before you. What will you do in that great city
without female friendship and sympathy? You and Richard, both so young
and inexperienced in the ways of the world. I will not, however, put any
obstacle in his path, for man may go unshrinking where woman may not
tread. But you, my Gabriella, must remain with me."
"Here, where the phantom of Ernest haunts my every step, where the echo
of his voice is heard in every gale, and the shadow of departed joy
comes between me and the sunshine of heaven? What can I do here but
remind you by my presence of him, whom I have banished for ever from
your arms? Let me go, my own dear mother, for I cannot remain passive
here. I shall not want female sympathy and guardianship, for Mrs. Brahan
is all that is kind and tender, and knows enough of my sad history to be
entitled to unbounded confidence. I will write to her, and be guided by
her, as if she were another Mrs. Linwood."
She yielded at last, and so did Dr. Harlowe, who cheered me by his
cordial approval. He said it was the best thing I could do for myself;
for change of scene, and a strong motive of action, might save me from
becoming a confirmed invalid. Edith wept, but made no opposition. She
believed I was in the path of duty, and that it would be made smooth
beneath my feet.
No tidings from Ernest came to interrupt the dreary blank of his
absence,--the same continuity of anxiety and uncertainty stretching on
into a hopeless futurity. Again and again I said to myself--
"Better so a thousand times, than to live as I have done, scathed by the
lightning of jealousy. Even if he returned, I could not, with the fear
of God now before me, renew our unblest wedlock. The hand of violence
has sundered us, and my heart fibres must ever bleed from the wrench,
but they will not again intwine. He has torn himself ruthlessly from me;
and the shattered vine, rent from its stay, is beginning to cling to the
pillars of God's temple. It is for _him_ I pray, for _him_ I mourn,
rather than myself. It is for his happiness, rather than my own
justification, that I desire him to know the history of my innocence. I
am willing to drink the cup of humiliation even to the dregs, if it may
not pass from me; but spare him, O Heavenly Father, the bitter, bitter
chalice."
It was a bleak morning in early winter, that we commenced our journey to
that city, where little more than a year ago I had gone a young and
happy bride. As we rode along the winding avenue, I looked out on the
dry russet lawn, the majestic skeleton of the great elm, stripped of the
foliage and hues of life, and saw the naked branches of the oaks
clinging to each other in sad fraternity, and heard the wind whistling
through them as through the shrouds of a vessel. With an involuntary
shiver I drew nearer to Richard, and hid my face from the prophetic
desolation of nature.