RABY'S WIFE.
Yet, in one respect,
Just one, beloved, I am in nowise changed;
I love you, loved you, loved you first and last,
And love you on forever, now I know
I loved you always.
E. B. BROWNING.
Crystal never moved as she heard the sound of the closing door. Only
once she tried to cower away from him, but he would not release his
hold; and, as his strength and purpose made themselves felt, she stood
there dumb and cold, until, suddenly overcome by his tenderness, she
laid her head on his breast with a sob that seemed to shake her
girlish frame.
"Raby, Raby! oh, I can not bear this." Then in a tone of anguish, "I
do not deserve it."
"No," he said, calmly, and trying to soothe her with grave kisses;
"you have been a faithless child, and deserve to be punished. How do
you propose to make me amends for all the sorrow you have caused me?"
"Oh, if I could only die," she answered, bitterly; "if my death could
only do you good. Raby, the trouble of it has nearly killed me; you
must not, you must not speak so kindly to me."
"Must I not, my darling; how does a man generally speak to his future
wife?" and as she trembled and shrunk from him, he went on in the same
quiet voice, "if you are so ready to die for me, you will not surely
refuse to live for me. Do you think you owe me nothing for all these
years of desertion, Crystal; was there any reason that, because of
that unhappy accident--a momentary childish passion, you should break
my heart by your desertion?"
"I could not stay," she answered, weeping bitterly; "I could not stay
to see the ruin I had made. Oh, Raby, let me go, do not forgive me; I
have been your curse, and Margaret's, too!"
"Then come back and be our blessing; come back in your beauty and
youth to be eyes to the blind man, and to be his darling and delight.
Crystal, I am wiser now--I shall make no more mistakes; indeed, I
always loved you, dear; poor Mona was no more to me than any other
woman."
"You loved me, Raby?"
"Yes, most truly and deeply; but you were so young, my sweet; and I
did not think it right to fetter your inexperienced youth--you were so
unconscious of your own rare beauty; you had seen so few men. 'Let her
go out into the world,' I said, and test her power and influence. I
will not ask her to be my wife yet. How could I know you would never
change, Crystal--that your heart was really mine?"
"It has always been yours," she murmured; but, alas! those sweet
blushes were lost on her blind lover.
"Yes, I know it now; Margaret has helped me to understand things. I
know now, you poor child, that you looked upon Mona as your rival;
that you thought I was false to you; that in my ignorance I made you
endure tortures. It is I who ought to ask your pardon, love, for all I
made you suffer."
"No, no."
"We must both be wiser for the future. Now put your hand in mine,
Crystal, and tell me that you are content to take the blind man for
your husband, that the thought of a long life beside him does not
frighten you; that you really love me well enough to be my wife;" and,
as he turned his sightless face toward her, Crystal raised herself and
kissed his blind eyes softly. "'She loved much,'" she whispered,
"'because much had been forgiven her.' Oh, how true that is; I deserve
only to be hated, and you follow me across the world to ask me to be
your wife. Your love has conquered, Raby; from this day your will
shall be mine."
* * * * *
Miss Campion had passed a long morning at the springs, wandering about
the pleasant grounds with an American friend. Crystal would have
finished her letter to Fern Trafford long ago, she thought, as she
walked quickly down the hot road, and would be waiting for luncheon.
She was not a little surprised then when, on reaching the cottage, she
heard the sound of voices, and found herself confronting a very tall
man in clerical dress, whose head seemed almost to touch the low
ceiling, while a sweet-looking woman, in a long gray cloak and
Quakerish bonnet, was standing holding Crystal's hand.
"Dear Miss Campion," exclaimed Crystal, with a vivid blush that seemed
to give her new beauty, "some English friends of mine have just
arrived. Mr. Ferrers and his sister." But Raby's deep voice
interrupted her.
"Crystal is not introducing us properly; she does not mention the fact
that she is engaged to me; and that my sister is her cousin; so it is
necessary for me to explain matters."
"Is this true, child?" asked Miss Campion in a startled voice; and, as
though Crystal's face were sufficient answer, she continued archly,
"Do you mean that this is 'he,' Crystal--the ideal we were talking
about last night in the moonlight?"
"Oh, hush!" returned Crystal, much confused at this, for she knew by
this time that there had been silent auditors to that girlish
outburst. But Raby's hand pressed hers meaningly.
"I am afraid I must plead guilty to being that 'he,' Miss Campion. I
believe, if the truth must be told, that Crystal has been engaged to
me from a child. I know she was only nine years old when she made me
an offer--at least she informed me in the presence of my father and
sister that she meant to belong to me."
"Oh, Margaret, do ask him to be quiet," whispered Crystal; but her
glowing, happy face showed no displeasure. Something like tears
glistened in Miss Campion's shrewd eyes as she kissed her and shook
hands with Mr. Ferrers.
"It is not often the ideal turns up at the right moment," she said,
bluntly; "but I am very glad you have come to make Crystal look like
other girls. Now, Miss Ferrers, as only lovers can feed on air, I
propose that we go in search of luncheon, for the gong has sounded
long ago;" and as even Raby allowed that this was sensible advice,
they all adjourned to the boarding-house.
The occupants of the piazza were sorely puzzled that evening, and Miss
Bellagrove was a trifle cross. Captain Maudsley had been raving about
the beauty of the wonderful brunette who was sitting opposite to him
at dinner. "She must be an Italian," he had said to Miss Bellagrove,
who received his confidence somewhat sulkily; "one never sees those
wonderful eyes and that tint of hair out of Italy or Spain.
Tanqueville, who is an artist, is wild about her, because he says he
has never seen a face with a purer oval. He wants to paint her for his
Rebecca at the Well. It is rather hard lines she should be engaged to
a blind clergyman," finished Captain Maudsley, rather incautiously.
Miss Bellagrove's fair face wore an uneasy expression.
"How do you know they are engaged?" she said, impatiently; "I do not
believe they are. Miss Ferrers does not wear any ring."
"Nevertheless, I should not mind betting a few dozens of gloves that
they are," replied Captain Maudsley, with a keen, mischievous glance
that rather disconcerted Miss Bellagrove. He was quite aware that he
was teasing the poor little girl; but then she deserved punishment for
flirting with that ass Rogers all last evening. Jack Maudsley was
honestly in love with the fair-haired beauty, but he had plenty of
pluck and spirit, and would not be fooled if he could help it. Perhaps
Miss Bellagrove, in common with the rest of her sex, liked a lover to
be a little masterful. It was certain that she was on her best
behavior during the rest of the evening, and snubbed Mr. Rogers most
decidedly when he invited her to take a turn in the shrubberies.
Crystal attracted a great deal of notice in the boarding-house, but
she gave no one any opportunity of addressing her. Raby was always
beside her, and she seemed completely engrossed with his attentions.
As Miss Campion observed to Margaret, she might as well look for
another companion for all the good Crystal was to her.
But one evening Margaret found Crystal sitting alone in a corner of
the large drawing-room. Most of the company had gone into the
tea-room, but one or two, Raby among them, were lingering in the
garden. Raby was talking rather earnestly to Miss Campion.
"Alone, Crystal!" sitting down beside her with a smile. "Do you mean
that Raby has actually left you?" But Crystal's face wore no answering
smile--she looked a little disturbed.
"I asked him to go and let me think it over. I can not make up my
mind, Margaret. Raby wants me to marry him at once, before we go back
to England; he will have it that it will be better for me to go back
to the Grange as his wife."
"Yes, darling, I know Raby wishes this, and I hope you mean to
consent."
"I--I do not know what to say--the idea somehow frightens me. It is
all so quick and sudden--next week; will not people think it strange?
A quiet English wedding in the dear little Sandycliffe church seems to
me so much nicer. But Raby seems to dread the waiting so, Margaret,"
and here her eyes filled with tears. "I think he does not trust
me--that he is afraid I may leave him again; and the idea pains me."
"No, dearest," returned Margaret, soothingly; "I am sure such a
thought never entered Raby's head; but he has suffered so, and I think
all the trouble, and his blindness, make him nervous; he was saying so
last night, and accusing himself of selfishness, but he owned that he
could not control a nervous dread that something might happen to
separate you both, Crystal," looking at her wistfully. "Is the idea of
an immediate marriage so repugnant; if not, I wish you would give way
in this."
Crystal looked up, startled by her earnestness, and then she said,
with sweet humility, "It is only that I feel so unworthy of all this
happiness; but if you and Raby think it best, I will be guided by you.
Will you tell him so? but no, there he is alone; I will go to him
myself."
Raby heard her coming, and held out his hand with a smile.
"You see I never mistake your footsteps," he said, in the tone he kept
for her ear; "I should distinguish them in a crowd. Well, darling?"
waiting for the word he knew would follow.
"Margaret has been talking to me, and I see she approves--it shall be
next week if you wish it, Raby; that is, if Miss Campion will spare
me."
"She will gladly do so, especially as Margaret offers to keep her
company for a fortnight; after that we will all go back in the same
steamer. Thanks, my darling, for consenting; you have made me very
happy. I knew you would not refuse," lifting the little hand to has
lips.
"I feel as though I have no power to refuse you anything," was her
loving answer; "but I know it is all your thought for me, Raby,"
pressing closer to him in the empty dusk, for there were no curious
eyes upon them--only night-moths wheeling round them. "Are you never
afraid of what you are doing; do you not fear that I may disappoint
you?"
"No," he answered, calmly, "I fear nothing."
"Not my unhappy temper?" she whispered; and he could feel the slight
figure trembling as she put the question.
"No," in the same quiet tones that always soothed her agitation, "for
I believe the evil spirit is exorcised by much prayer and fasting;
and, darling, even if it should not be so, I should not be afraid
then, for I know better how to deal with it and you; no angry spirit
could live in my arms, and I would exorcise it thus"--touching her
lips. "No, have faith in me, as I have faith in you, and all will be
well." And so he comforted her.
There was a great sensation in the boarding-house at W---- when news
of the approaching wedding was made known. Captain Maudsley triumphed
openly over Miss Bellagrove. "I told you the Italian beauty was
engaged to the blind Englishman," he said to her; "but after all, she
is only half an Italian--her mother was a Florentine, and her father
was English. Fergusson told me all about it--he is to marry them; and
old Doctor Egan is to give her away. There is some romantic story
belonging to them. I think he has been in love with her from a child.
Well, Heaven gives nuts to those who have no teeth," grumbled the
young officer, thinking of the bridegroom's blindness.
Crystal remained very quietly in the corner house during the rest of
the week. Raby spent most of his time with her. On the eve of her
wedding she wrote a little note to Fern, telling her of her intended
marriage.
"I am very happy," she wrote; "but there are some kinds of
happiness too deep for utterance. When I think of the new life
that awaits me to-morrow, an overwhelming sense of
unworthiness seems to crush me to the ground; to think that I
shall be Raby's wife--that I shall be permitted to dedicate my
whole life to his dear service. I have told you a little about
him, but you will never know what he is really; I sometimes
pray that my love may not be idolatry. When he brings me to
the Grange--that dear home of my childhood, you must come to
me, and your mother also. Raby says he loves you both for your
goodness to me; he has promised that you shall be our first
guests.
"Do you know our dear Margaret will not be long with us? She
intends to join a community in the East End of London, and to
devote herself for the remainder of her life to the service of
the poor. I could not help crying a little when she told me
this; but she only smiled and said that she was not unhappy.
And yet she loved Hugh Redmond. I talked to Raby afterward,
and he comforted me a little. He said that though Hugh loved
her with the whole strength of his nature, that he could never
really have satisfied a woman like Margaret--that in time she
must have found out that he was no true mate for her. 'A woman
should never be superior to her husband,' he said. 'Margaret's
grand intellect and powers of influence would have been wasted
if she had become Hugh Redmond's wife. Oh, yes, he would have
been good to her--probably he would have worshiped her; but
one side of her nature would have been a mystery to him. You
must not grieve for her, my child, for she has ceased to
grieve for herself; the Divine Providence has withheld from
her a woman's natural joys of wifehood and maternity, but a
noble work is to be given to her; our Margaret, please God,
will be a mother in Israel.' And, indeed, I feel Raby is
right, and that Margaret is one of God's dear saints."
It was on a golden September day that Crystal became Raby Ferrers's
wife; the company that had grouped themselves in the long drawing-room
of the boarding-house owned that they had never seen a grander bride.
The creamy Indian silk fell in graceful folds on the tall supple
figure; the beautiful head, with its coils of dark glossy hair, was
bent in girlish timidity. Margaret had clasped round her white throat
the pearl necklace and diamond cross that had belonged to her mother,
and which she was to have worn at her own bridal. "I shall not need
it; it is for Raby's wife," she said, as Crystal protested with tears
in her eyes; "it must be your only ornament. Oh, if Raby could only
see how lovely you look."
But the calm tranquil content on the sightless face silenced even this
wish. Crystal ceased to tremble when the deep vibrating voice, vowing
to love and cherish her to her life's end, sounded in her ears; but
Raby felt the coldness of the hand he held.
When they had received the congratulations of their friends, and
Margaret had tenderly embraced her new sister, and they were left
alone for a little, Raby drew his young bride closer to him.
"You are not afraid now, my darling?"
"No," she answered, unsteadily; "but it is all so like a dream. A
fortnight ago--only a fortnight--I was the most desolate creature in
God's earth; and now--"
"And now," echoing her words with a kiss, "you are my wife. Ah, do you
remember your childish speech--it used to ring in my ears; 'I am going
to belong to Raby all my life long; I will never leave him, never.'
Well, it has come true, love; you are mine now."
"Yes," she whispered, leaning her forehead against him, "you will
never be able to got rid of me; and oh"--her voice trembling--"the
rest of knowing that it will never be my duty to leave you."
He laughed at that, but something glistened in his eyes too. "No, my
wild bird; no more flights for you--I have you safely now; you are
bound to me by this"--touching the little circlet of gold upon the
slender finger. "Now, my darling--my wife of an hour, I want you to
make me a promise; I ask it of your love, Crystal. If a shadow--even
the very faintest shadow, cross your spirit; if one accusing thought
seems to stand between your soul and mine; one doubt or fear that,
like the cloud no bigger than a man's hand, might rise and spread into
the blackness of tempest, will you come and tell it to me?"
"Oh, Raby, do not ask me."
"But I do ask it, love, and I ask it in my twofold character of priest
and husband, and it is the first request your husband makes you. Come,
do not hesitate. You have given me yourself; now, with sweet
generosity, promise me this, that you will share with me every doubt
and fear that disturbs you?"
"Will you not let me try to conquer the feeling alone first, and then
come to you?"
"No, I would not undertake the responsibility; I know you too well,
darling. Come, I thought you promised something that sounded like
obedience just now."
"Ah, you are laughing at me. But this is no light matter, Raby; it
means that I am to burden you with all my foolish doubts and
fancies--that I am never to keep my wrong feelings to myself."
"Promise!" was his only answer, in a very persuasive voice.
"Yes, I will promise," hiding her face on his shoulder; "but it will
be your own fault if I am ever a trouble to you. Oh, Raby, may I
always tell you everything; will you help me to be good, and to fight
against myself?"
"We will help each other," he answered, stroking her soft hair; "there
shall never be a shadow on the one that the other will not share--half
the shadow and half the sunshine; and always the Divine goodness over
us. That shall be our married life, Crystal."