"LOVE THAN DEATH ITSELF MORE STRONG"
I had no thought of writing in you again, my silent friend. Only a
little while ago I said to myself, the time has gone by when solitude
and heart hunger could drive me to your pages for consolation. Only a
little while ago, it is true; and yet between the past and future is
fixed a mighty gulf. As I write these words I stand upon the threshold
of death! What death may mean, I know not! I have no religion to throw
bright gleams of hope upon its dark mysteries. I have no hope of any
other life, save the one I am quitting! If I am resigned and calm, it
is because the lamp of my life has burnt out, and I am in darkness. I
wait for death as a maiden waits for the first gleams of dawn on her
marriage day.
Who said that love was everlasting? They lied! Love is a dream, a
floating shadow full of golden lights, quenched by the first breath of
morning! Who should know, if I do not know? Who has done more for love
than I--I whose hands are red with blood, I who this night must die?
It was for his sake, I struck--for his sake! and now that the hour of
my punishment must come, I sit here alone and forsaken, waiting for
the signal which must end my life! It was for his sake! A death-white
face rises up before me, and a hoarse, dying cry sobs ever in my ears!
I pass on my way through the Valley of the Shadow of Death with no
hope to cheer me, forsaken, friendless, and shaken with dim fears!
Am I alone! He for whom I struck has turned from me. Oh, the bitter
cruelty of it! It was he who taught me what love was, and yet of love
he knows nothing, else I would not be here to meet my doom alone!
Oh! Paul, Paul! Oh, for one touch of your hand, for one kind look! My
heart is sick and faint with longing! Am I indeed so low and vile a
thing that you should turn away with never a single word of farewell?
O! my love, you are hard indeed! If my hands are stained with
blood--for whose sake was it? It was only a word I craved for, Paul!
Only a word--a look, even! Was it too great a boon to grant?
* * * * *
Oh, memory! help me, help me to keep sane just a few more hours--until
the end comes. It is a last luxury! I will think of those golden days
we spent together ere the blow fell. Ah! how happy we were! Every
breath of life was sweet; every moment seemed charged with the
delicious happiness! The past, with its haunting shadows, and the
memory of that grim, deathly figure huddled up amongst the ferns
in the bare pine wood had perished. Background and foreground had
vanished in the bewildering joys of the present. Oh! Paul, that was
happiness, indeed. All measures of outside things seemed lost! At
times I found it hard to recollect in what country we were! Oh! the
world, such as ours was, is a sweet, sweet world!
At last the blow fell. He came to me one morning, as white as a sheet,
with an old, soiled copy of the Times in his hand.
"Read, Adrea," he cried, thrusting it into my hand. "A horrible thing
has happened!"
I let the paper fall through my fingers. An agony of fear was upon me.
"I know! I know! Do not ask me to read it."
"You knew, and you did not tell me!"
"No! I--no!"
There was a deadly swimming before my eyes, and a throbbing in my
ears. I sank back, grateful for the unconsciousness which gave me
respite, however short. When recovered, I was on the verge of a fever;
and Paul, seeing my condition, did not refer to the news which had
been such a shock to him. But for an hour the next day he was away
from me, writing letters home. When he returned there was a restraint
between us. He was kind as ever, but restless and unsettled. As yet he
had no suspicion, but I could see that he was longing to get back to
England.... The thought was like madness to me.
Then came the beginning of the end. We were staying in a villa which
we had rented for a month near Florence, and one day we drove into the
city together to do some shopping. Paul was at the post-office, and I
was crossing the square to go to him, when of a sudden I felt a hand
upon my dress, and a hoarse whisper in my ear. I started round in
terror. A man, pale and hollow-eyed, stood by my side. It was Gomez!
"Listen quickly!" he said. "I must not stay by your side! You are in
danger! The English police are upon your track!"
I caught hold of the railing to prevent myself from falling. Above my
head, a little flock of pigeons lazily flapped their wings against the
deep blue sky. All around, the sunlit air was full of laughing voices,
and gaily dressed crowds of people were passing backwards and forwards
only a few yards away. Already, one or two were glancing in
my direction curiously. In a moment Paul would come out of the
post-office, looking for me. I made a great effort, and steadied
myself.
"Tell me! What can I do?"
He answered me quickly, keeping his back turned to the stream of
people. "You must fly! It may be already too late, but in twenty-four
hours you will certainly be arrested if you are in Florence. I have
travelled night and day to find you. The holy saints grant that it may
not be too late. Call yourself by a strange name; and if Paul de Vaux
be with you, see that he alters his also. There are already two of the
detectives in Florence searching for you. A third, with a warrant,
may be here at any time. Get to the furthest corner of the world, for
everything is known. Farewell!"
He left me abruptly; and although I felt that my doom had been spoken,
I walked firmly across the square to meet Paul. I would tell him
everything. He should be my judge. My love should plead for me! It
would triumph; yes! it would triumph! I was convinced of it! As for
the danger I was in, I thought less of that.
On the steps of the postoffice I met Paul. He held in his hand a
bundle of papers, one of which he had opened, and, as he raised his
head and looked at me, I saw that what I had dreaded had come to pass.
He looked like a man stricken down by some sudden and terrible blow.
He was white even to the lips, and a strange light burned in his eyes.
He laid his hand upon my arm. Was it my fancy, or did he really recoil
a little as he touched me? "Let us go home!" he said hoarsely. "I
have--something to say to you!"
We entered the carriage, which was waiting near, and drove off. We
came together into this room. It was barely two hours ago. He closed
the door and turned towards me. I did not wait for his question. I
told him everything!
Ah me! I had thought that love was a different thing. I had sinned,
it is true, but he was not my judge. So I commenced, humbled and
sorrowful indeed, but with no fear of what was before me. But
gradually, as I watched his face, a cold, ghastly dread crept in upon
me. What did it mean--that blank look of horror, his quiet withdrawal
from the only caress I attempted? I finished--abruptly--and called out
to him piteously,--
"Paul! Paul! Why do you turn away? Oh! kiss me, Paul! It was horrible,
but it was to save you!"
He did not answer; he did not hold out his arms, or make any movement
towards me. I touched his arm; and oh! horrible! he shuddered. I crept
away into a corner of the room, with a strange, burning pain in my
heart.
"How long is it, since you saw Gomez?" he asked, and his voice,
strained, yet low, seemed to come from a far distance.
"An hour!--perhaps more--I cannot tell!"
He stood before the door like a ghost. "I must go and try to find him!
Forgive me, Adrea! I cannot talk now! I will come back!"
So he left me. I have not seen him since! God only knows whether I
shall see him again! My heart is torn with the agony of it! I cannot
bear it any longer! If he is not here in half an hour I shall end it!
* * * * *
He has not come! Ten minutes more!
Five minutes!
* * * * *
It is done; I have taken poison! In half an hour I shall be dead! Oh!
Paul, my love, my love, come to me! If I could only die in your
arms, if I could only feel once more your kisses upon my lips! It is
horrible to die alone! Already I feel weaker! Oh! if there be a God
in heaven, send me Paul just for one last moment! I do not ask for
forgiveness or pardon, only send me Paul! I am afraid to die alone!
Never to see him again! Oh! I shall cry out! Paul! Paul! come to me! I
do not ask for heaven, only to die in his arms, to----
* * * * *
There were sounds upon the stairs, and in the hall; the sounds of a
man's quick entrance and approach. Adrea, with that passionate
prayer still quivering upon her lips, dragged herself to the door and
listened. A moment's agonised apprehension, and then she staggered
back, faint with joy. The door was opened, and quickly closed; Paul
stood before her.
"Oh! my love! my love," she murmured. "Take me in your arms! It is for
the last time!"
He moved to her side, and supported her. "Adrea," he said quietly, "I
want you to change your things quickly, and come with me. There is
a carriage at the door, and I have chartered a steamer to take us to
Genoa. From there we can sail to-morrow for New York. Gomez was right;
you are in danger here! Be brave, little woman, and all will be well!"
She clung to him passionately, with her arms locked around his neck,
and her wet face close to his. Only a confused sense of his words
reached her. His tone and his embrace were sufficient.
"And you?"
"I go with you, of course! We shall begin a new life in a new world!
Come! We have no time to lose!"
"A new life in a new world." She repeated the words dreamily, still
holding him to her. Then a sudden dizziness came. It passed away, but
it reminded her that the end could not be far off.
"Adrea, do you not understand? How cold your lips are! Try and bear
up, love! We have a long journey before us!"
She shook her head slowly. He began to notice that she was like a dead
weight in his arms.
"It is a long journey, love, but I go alone. You cannot come, Paul!
Yet I am not afraid, now that you are here!"
"Adrea! what do you mean? I will not leave you! Have courage! Adrea!
Soon we shall leave all dangers behind us!"
"Paul! do you not understand? I am dying!"
Dying! He looked at her face, calm and even smiling, but terribly
blanched and white, and he saw the empty phial upon the table. The
whole truth swept in upon him. He staggered and almost fell with her.
"It is best so," she whispered. "I only minded when--I thought that
you might not be back in time. I am quite--content now!"
"A doctor!" he cried hoarsely. "I must fetch a doctor! Adrea----"
"Please don't!" she interrupted. "Long before he could come--I should
be dead. It is so much better! Did you think, Paul, that I could have
you--tied for life--to a poor, hunted woman--forced to live always
in a foreign country? Oh! no, no! I have had this poison by me ever
since--in case--anything happened. Paul, carry me--to the sofa! There
is--no pain--but I am getting weaker--very weak. My eyes are a little
dim, too--but I can see you--Paul!"
He obeyed her, and sank on his knees, with his arms still around her.
It seemed to him that she had never been so lovely as in those last
few minutes of her life. It was wonderful to see her resigned as she
was.
There was a brief silence, broken only by a sharp, convulsed sob from
the kneeling man. Adrea, who heard it, stretched out her hand, and
passed it caressingly along the side of his face. He caught it and
covered it with kisses.
"Paul, we have been happy together, have we not?"
"My darling, you know it!"
She raised herself a little, and spoke earnestly. "For me--it has been
like heaven--and yet I am not sure--that it would have lasted.
You would have wearied soon! My nature is too light a one to have
satisfied you always. I have felt it! I--I know it!"
She paused, struggling for breath. He did not answer her. He only
held her tighter, and whispered her name lovingly. In a moment she
re-opened her eyes.
"So--it is best--" she continued, with a little more effort. "Paul,
things seem all so clear--to me now! I think of you in the future--it
must be a happy future, Paul--I know it will! I see you the master of
that grand old home of yours, up amongst the moors you love so much.
I can see you there in the future, living your quiet, country
life--always the same, honourable and just. I like to think of you
there--it is so natural. I want you--to forget--these days then!
Remember that it was--I--who--came to you, Paul! You had no--choice.
I would come. If there has been--any sin--it has been--mine only. You
were far above--poor me! I have dragged you down--a little way--but
you will go back again! You will marry--some one good and worthy of
you. It is my--last wish! God bless you, Paul, dear--dear, Paul. I
think that I am--going now--kiss me!"
"My love! My love! Oh! that you could live to be happy with me once
more!"
"There are steps upon the stairs--I think--but they come--too late!
The book on the table--take it! It will--tell you--what you do not
know--of my life! Farewell! Sister Elise! Is that you? Ah! back
once more--in the old convent garden! How sweet--and gentle--the air
is--and what perfumes! You here, Paul! You too! How dim your face
seems--and yet--how happy it makes me--to see it. Dear Paul! we have
been--so happy! Farewell!"
* * * * *
There were strangers in the room, but they came too late. They found
only the corpse of a woman, whose dead lips were parted in a strangely
sweet smile, and a strong man who had swooned by her side in the utter
abandonment of his grief. The hand of human justice had been stayed by
God's mercy!
THE END.
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End of Project Gutenberg's A Monk of Cruta, by E. Phillips Oppenheim