MRS. DENNISON URGES LAWRENCE TO PROPOSE.
The next morning Mrs. Dennison kept up the subdued character of the
previous night. Her eyes were heavy and full of troubled mist, her
movements had lost their elasticity, and an air of touching depression
supplanted the graceful audacity of her usual manner.
Mr. Lee was grave and silent; he once or twice glanced at our guest,
with some anxiety in his look, but made no comment on her changed
appearance.
After breakfast I went out for a walk. The morning was bright and cool,
inviting me to a long ramble. But my health was not altogether restored,
and anxiety made me listless; so I walked slowly across the face of the
hill, came out at the footpath on the ridge, and wandered on till I came
to the rock which terminated it. I had been sitting on it a little
while, gazing languidly down at the gleams of water that came up through
the green hemlocks, some two hundred feet beneath, when the sound of
voices from the grove disturbed me.
I had a nervous dread of being seen by Mrs. Dennison or her friends, and
let myself down from the rock to the face of the precipitous descent--a
perilous exploit--for a false step might have sent me headlong to the
river below. I became sensible of the danger of my position after the
first moment, and, clinging to a young ash-tree, pressed myself against
the leaning trunk of a hemlock and waited for the persons, whose voices
I had heard, to pass.
Directly two persons came winding down the path, and stood upon the rock
I had just left. It was Mrs. Dennison and Mr. Lawrence, talking eagerly.
The languor that had marked her appearance at breakfast was gone. She
was sharp and animated, spoke with earnestness, and seemed now pleading,
now explaining. I caught a glimpse of his face. It was flushed with
anger, not to say rage.
"It is useless to upbraid me. I loved you; it was death to give you up.
At a distance it seemed easy enough; but when I saw you together and
marked something too real in your devotion, it drove me mad. I could not
marry you myself, poverty-stricken wretches that we are! but you cannot
blame me if the trial of giving you to another was beyond human
strength."
"But you were false. You told me that she also was false; that she
secretly encouraged young Bosworth; that I was treacherously undermining
my own friend."
Lawrence spoke in a loud, angry voice. The look which he bent on her was
stormy with passion.
"Lawrence, this rage is useless. I did all that lay in my power to break
up the work I had helped to do. For a time, poverty, anything seemed
better than the possibility of seeing you the husband of that proud
girl. Then my own future was uncertain; now it is assured. Between them
the father and daughter have unbounded wealth. It is worth a great
sacrifice--I make it. This is my first step, my first humiliation. It
was false. All that I told you was false. She did not love that young
man, she did love you. I fancied--and here the trouble arose--that you
were beginning to love her, that it gave you no pain to change. This
embittered me. I misrepresented her, told you that she visited
Bosworth's sick-chamber from affection, when I knew that it was only the
persuasion of that troublesome Miss Hyde which sent her to the house.
Now I take it all back. She is heart-whole save in love for you. She
never cared for him in the least. It was you she loved."
I caught a second glimpse of his face as he turned it from her; a flash
of triumph passed over it, breaking its frowns as lightning cleaves a
thunder-cloud. My heart fell. The man loved our Jessie. With his
strength and power of character, could she resist a passion that was
evidently genuine?
Mrs. Dennison looked at him sharply; but his face was dark enough under
her glance, and she went on, perhaps satisfied of his indifference.
"There is no time for hesitation, Lawrence. It will be impossible for me
to keep my post here many days longer. The young lady scarcely endures
me, Miss Hyde turns to marble when I enter her presence, and there is
that imp of a girl crossing my path at every turn. I must leave the
house--and that within a few days--unless you forgive me and find means
of appeasing the young lady. That accomplished, I shall be more
necessary to the household than ever. Everything will be on velvet
then."
"Are you so sure of the old gentleman then?" inquired Lawrence, with a
half sneer.
She smiled, and gave her head a disdainful movement.
"Am I sure of my life?"
He turned upon her with a look of scornful approbation.
"You are an extraordinary woman, widow."
"You have said as much, in a more complimentary fashion, before this,"
she answered.
"Perhaps," he answered, carelessly; "but we understand each other too
well for fine speeches. Now, let us talk clearly. On your word of honor
as a lady, all that you told me regarding Miss Lee before I took that
rude departure, was false?"
"Yes; though you might use a softer word."
"And you believe she loves me yet in spite of my ungentlemanly
withdrawal?"
"I am certain of it."
"You wish me to beg pardon and propose?"
"Wish!"
The woman locked her hands passionately, and turned her pale face upon
him.
"Wish! You know I _cannot_ wish it; but it is inevitable."
"In order to smooth your way with this grand old gentleman."
The woman shuddered visibly, and clasped her hands once more till the
blood flew back under the almond-shaped nails, leaving them white as
pearls.
"How indifferently you speak of a thing which drives me mad!"
"Indifferently? No. You have made your arrangements, and do me the honor
to include mine with them."
"You are angry with me--hurt that I can decide on this marriage."
"No, neither angry nor hurt on that point."
She looked at him imploringly.
"Is this said in order to wound me?"
"It is said because I feel it."
"And you do not care that I bind myself for life to this man?"
"Care? Yes; why not?"
"I have thought it all over hundreds of times, when we talked of
marriage those lovely nights on the beach. It was a sweet dream, worthy
of two young people in their teens. We forgot everything,--the
luxurious habits which had become second nature to us both,--the
impossibility of making even love wild as ours suffice with everything
else wanting. We were neither young enough nor foolish enough to carry
that idea out."
"Or, even then, to entertain it seriously for a moment," said Lawrence,
coldly breaking in upon her.
"Perhaps not," she said, mournfully. "It was a dream, and as such we
discussed it; but the wish--oh! that was strong with us both!"
A cloud of disgustful feelings swept over the man's face, such as fill a
refined heart while reviving some passion that has died out in contempt.
"Well, we will not dwell upon these moonlight dreams, but the future."
"Which will, at least, give us the right to see each other, and will
secure between us one of the largest fortunes in the United States. If
we cannot be all in all to each other, everything else necessary to
happiness will be ours."
Again that expression swept over his face, but she was not looking at
him; the thoughts in her mind were such as turn the eyes away from any
human countenance. I could read all this plainly in their two faces.
"Let us pass over these things," he said, gravely regarding her. "You
and I ought to know that human will seldom regulates events; let us try
to act rightly and leave them with a higher power."
She looked at him in amazement an instant; then answered, with a
self-sustained laugh,--
"Strong spirits make their own circumstances! We are making ours!"
"I know that is your opinion; but no matter, this is no place for
discussion. Once again, let me understand. I am not disposed to
criticise your motives for this--I will use the softer word--
mystification; but now we must take clear ground. You again assure me
that, in seeking Miss Lee, I shall not meet with a rebuff either from
the lady or her father?"
"I am sure of it."
"Then I will go at once. But how can I explain?"
"Say that you were informed of her visit to Bosworth, and went off in a
fit of jealousy."
"And if she asks of my informant?"
"Say that you saw her with your own eyes."
"Don't you think it would be as well to speak the truth for once?" said
Lawrence, with a grave smile.
"That _is_ the truth; you saw her returning home."
Lawrence sat down upon the rock, and, covering his forehead with one
hand, seemed to reflect.
"You find this task an unpleasant one?" said the woman, touching his
hand with her own.
He swept the hand across his forehead, scattering rich waves of hair
over the temples.
"It is very painful," he said, bitterly; "but, thank heaven! the
mischief was not of my own making. No matter; I will go now."
He turned to leave her. She grew pale and troubled.
"Where shall I see you after it is over?"
"Here, if you have the patience to wait."
"Yes," she answered, "I will wait; it will not be long. Oh, heavens! how
little time it takes to separate us forever and ever!"