AFTER THE PROPOSAL.
He did not answer this; but his footsteps were still heard among the
leaves that had fallen along the footpath, and she followed his
retreating figure with eyes so full of anguish that I could not help
pitying her.
When Lawrence could no longer be seen through the trees, she sunk to the
rock, folded both her hands over her knees, and fairly moaned with pain.
There was no weeping; but dry sobs broke from her lips like gushes of
lava from a crater.
I remained still crouching at the foot of the hemlock, and sheltered
completely by one of its wing-like branches. I was safe from detection,
so steep was the descent that, without stepping to the very verge, there
was no chance that any person could discover me. I had no compunction or
question of honor to contend against. The contest going on in our
household had become too serious for shrinking from anything that was
not absolutely criminal in our defence. So bracing my foot against the
ash, and sheltering my presence under the dusky hemlock, I too waited,
determined not to move till that wretched woman left the ridge.
Mrs. Dennison was very restless, changing her position every moment, and
starting up if the least sound reached her from the woods. As time wore
on, she seemed to listen till the very breath upon her lips paused. The
birds, that, as I have said before, were very tame on the ground, made
her restive with their singing. She hated them, I am sure, for the sweet
noise that prevented her hearing his footsteps.
I softly took out my watch and counted the time. He had not been absent
more than fifteen minutes, when she sprang up, clenching both hands as
if about to strike some one, and began to prowl up and down the path
like a leopardess searching for her cubs. Now and then her voice broke
through the foliage, and I could see her wringing her hands, or stamping
her feet upon the dead leaves.
At last a footstep sounded from the woods; it was a man's step coming
rapidly through the leaves. It had a hard sound, and I felt sure that
the man was desperate. She evidently thought otherwise. Her arms fell
helplessly down, and she crept back to the rock, white and still, but
with her face turned away as if she would not let him see how anxious
she was.
He came up to the rock from the woods, crossed the footpath with a
single stride, and stood before her so stern, so bitterly incensed, that
she shrunk away from his first glance, yet a flash of irresistible joy
shot to the eyes with which she eagerly questioned him.
"Well!"
The lips from which this word came were almost smiling. Nature was
strong in the woman, and, spite of her selfishness, she exulted over the
ruin of her own plans.
"Well!" was the bitter response; "I have humiliated myself like a
hound--proposed and am rejected."
The woman sprang toward him with both hands extended; but he stepped
back, and she clasped them in an outgush of joy.
"Then it is over! Oh, heavens, how glad I am! this hour has been such
torture! What would a whole life be? I should go mad. Let the property
go--sweep the whole thing aside! How many poor people in the world are
happy! In poverty or out of it, you and I will be all in all to each
other!"
She was "pure womanly" then, notwithstanding her crafty nature and bad
heart; there was something in her abandonment that made my blood thrill.
But Lawrence stepped back, and his face clouded.
She looked at him in amazement.
"What is this? Can wounded vanity affect you so much?"
"Wounded vanity, madam? Will you forever misunderstand me? How dare you
consider me as an accomplice in your odious designs? If I have passed
them by in silence, it was no sign that I approved or shared them."
These words were uttered with the force of terrible indignation. The
woman to whom they were addressed stood confounded before the speaker,
whom she had evidently, up to that moment, believed to be her lover.
"Lawrence--Lawrence! can this be real?" at last broke from her quivering
lips.
While speaking, she laid her hand on his arm, but he pushed it off
loathingly, as if a reptile had been creeping over him.
At this repulse, all the queenliness of her air fell away, and she
seemed to shrink into a smaller person. The anguish so evident in her
face appeared to touch his compassion; his features cleared themselves
of stormy rage and hardened like marble. He took one of her hands in a
firm grasp, and addressed her from that moment in a low, concentrated
voice, that thrilled through one as nothing but true feeling can.
"Mrs. Dennison, this is the last time that you and I shall ever converse
together."
The woman uttered a low cry, and seized his arm with her disengaged
hand. He paused an instant, glanced calmly down at her hand, which clung
trembling to his sleeve, and went on:--
"We met at a watering-place unknown to each other, people of the world,
adventurers, if you will, and between us sprang up one of those
flirtations which are so far removed from genuine affection that the two
never exist together. We called it love--perhaps thought it so--for a
brief time; for I confess to a sentiment regarding you which no ordinary
person could have inspired."
The woman lifted her eyes at his softened voice, and with an expression
that must have gone to his soul; never in my life had I seen so much
gratitude in a glance.
"But this was not love!"
The white hand dropped away from his arm; he grasped the other tighter,
as if to impress his words more forcibly on her.
"I never did love you, Mrs. Dennison. Such expressions as are admitted
in society, without real meaning, I may have used, and you perhaps
construed them into deeper significance than they possessed. I--"
Mrs. Dennison lifted her two hands with impatient deprecation.
"Enough, enough!" she said; "more words are useless; I comprehend you."
"And hold me blameless, I trust?"
"Blameless? Oh, yes!" There was bitter whiteness on her lips, and her
eyes flashed fiercely.
The sneer relieved him. There had been something of compassion, even of
regret, in his voice till then; but the curl of her lips drove all such
feeling away.
"At least," he continued, promptly, "any blame that I might myself feel
it just to assume, has been a thousand times overbalanced by your
conduct, regarding one of the brightest and sweetest creatures that the
sun ever shone upon."
The bitter sneer spread all over the woman's face, leaving it cold and
white.
"You speak of Miss Lee?"
The voice in which she uttered these words was fearfully concentrated,
and her agitation kept her still as a serpent before it springs.
"Yes, madam, I speak of the lady who once, at least, received me kindly;
but who, yielding to your machinations, has just sent me from her
presence forever, a rejected, desperate man, for I love her better than
my own soul!"
A faint sound, sharp as a cry, deep as a grave, broke from the woman.
Lawrence did not heed it, but turned away and left her, seemingly
forgetful that it was a farewell. She followed him with her great, wild
eyes, struggled with herself, and evidently strove to cry out; but her
locked features refused to stir. The cold lips took a blue tinge, but
gave no sound. She stood like Lot's wife, with all the vitality stricken
from her limbs, listening to his footsteps as they died among the
leaves. Then she uttered a low cry, sprang forward to follow him, and
fell prone across the footpath.