A HEART-STORM ABATING.
I seized the lithe stem of the ash, and lifted myself up the bank,
prompted by an irresistible impulse of humanity. The woman lay upon the
ground in a position so like death, that it frightened me. Her white
face was half hidden by the turf. The folds of an India shawl were
entangled around her, like the broken wings of some great tropical bird;
one hand was clenched deep in a fleece of wood-moss, where its jewels
flashed like rain-drops.
I attempted to raise her face from the turf, but it fell back like lead
from my hands; the cheek which rested for a moment on my arm was cold as
snow. There was no life perceptible; I looked around for water. A
hundred feet below me it was rushing forward in abundance, but that was
unattainable. The house was some distance, but there alone could I hope
for succor.
I detested that woman in my soul; but some pure womanly feeling impelled
me to keep her terrible condition a secret. I could not find it in my
heart to expose her humiliation. So entering the hall unseen, I seized a
pitcher of water that stood on the marble console and hurried back,
carrying it so unsteadily that the ice-drops rained over my hands at
every step. When I reached the rock, breathless with haste, the woman
was gone, and but for the crushed grass, and a handful of moss torn up
by the roots, there remained no proof of the scene I had just witnessed.
Where had she gone? Not to the house. I must have seen her had she taken
that direction. Surely she had not followed Lawrence! I stepped to the
rock, which gave me a view of the footpath and the precipitous bank. She
was not in the woods, nor on the line of the ridge. Had she thrown
herself down the bank, and so perished in the river below?
I seized the ash-tree, and, supporting myself by it, leaned over,
searching the depths with a trembling dread of what I might find.
Half-way down the descent, I saw the gorgeous colors of a shawl
shrouding some object crouched upon a point of rock that jutted out from
the bank, and fairly overhung the black waters fifty feet below. In my
fright, the ash-tree escaped my hold, and, starting back with a sharp
recoil, made a great rustling among the leaves.
The woman sprang up, lifted her white face toward me, and for a moment
stood poised over the water, with her garments fluttering in the wind so
violently, that their very motion threatened to destroy her balance.
I threw out my arms, pleading with her to come back; but she sprang
forward into a heavy covert of pine-boughs that swept the descent, and
disappeared.
I waited some minutes, hoping that she would appear again; but
everything was still; and after lingering about the rock some time, I
returned to the house.
When I entered the hall, Mrs. Dennison was leaning over the balustrade
of the square balcony, gazing down upon the scenery of the valley, to
all appearance tranquil as a child.
She looked around with a furtive movement of the head as I set the
pitcher upon the console, and then I saw that her face was still
deathly pale. I said nothing to any one of what I had seen; it could
have availed little; my report would only have met with denial and
discredence. I felt sure of this and went to my room, there most
earnestly praying God to direct me how to act.
Mrs. Dennison did not come down to dinner that afternoon, and Cora
reported that she was in her room, suffering greatly. Something was the
matter; the dear lady had been crying for hours together as if her heart
were broken.
This was said in the presence of Mr. Lee, and I saw that he listened
keenly.
"Do you know any reason for this distress?" he inquired of the pretty
mulatto.
"No, sir; no reason in the world, without it is the high airs that old
lady took with her. I was in the hall, sir, and saw it; since then my
lady has been crying half the time."
We were at the table when Cora came down with this account of her
mistress. Mr. Lee poured out a glass of champagne and placed it on the
silver tray, upon which Jessie was arranging some delicacies from the
desert.
"Ask your mistress to try and join us in the drawing-room this evening,"
he said, kindly; "solitude will only depress her."
Cora bowed and went away, but returned directly with a message from Mrs.
Dennison. She had a severe headache, and was afraid that it would be
impossible for her to meet the family that evening. To-morrow she
trusted to be better.
Poor woman! she was true for once, though even her real illness was
afterward turned to account.
After dinner, I found myself alone with Jessie. She had been a little
excited after Lawrence left; but as the day wore on, her self-poise
returned, and a sweet gravity settled upon her. As I sat by the window,
she left the piano, from which a plaintive air had been stealing, and
came to my side.
"Aunt Matty," she said, in her sweet, trustful way, "I have something to
tell you. Mr. Lawrence has been here."
I did not express any knowledge of the fact, but looked at her, waiting
for more. A faint flush rose to her cheek; but her eyes looked clearly
into mine.
"You know what he came for?"
"I suppose so, Jessie; and that he went away disappointed."
"I think he loved me, Aunt Matty."
"And you?" I questioned, anxiously.
She shook her head and smiled wistfully.
"You remember the violets we took from the spring down in the meadow
yonder? How fresh and hardy they looked! But we tore them up too
roughly, and they never would take root again! They were young plants,
you said, and hard usage withered them. The violets are all uprooted and
dead here."
She pressed one hand to her heart, and, stooping down, kissed me to hide
the sadness that crept into her eyes.
"And you do not regret it?" I whispered, drawing her close to me.
"As I regretted the death of our violets, with a little sadness for the
perfume that is gone."
"And it is decided?"
"Nothing can change me. His intimacy with that woman gave her influence
enough to poison his mind with thoughts that should never enter the
heart of a true man. This was reason enough, if love ever reasoned; but
his power is gone from me. I could never live with a man who had once
been, even partially, controlled by a woman like that."
"Did you give him this reason?"
"As I have given it now."
"And he considers it as final?"
"Undoubtedly. I am glad he came--glad that he has spoken; for it sets me
free--heart and soul."
I kissed her fervently, thanking God for this great deliverance.