THE THREATENED DEPARTURE.
"We reached home. The groom had ridden on in advance, to have dry
clothes prepared for me; but it was of little use, for my habit had
gradually lost its dampness, and I was feverish rather than chilly. Mr.
Dennison came forth to meet us, his face full of alarm, his walk
unsteady as if fright had shaken him. The old man lifted me from my
saddle, and held me fondly in his arms, kissing my lips and forehead
with passionate thankfulness before he set me down. Drops like rain fell
upon my face, and I knew that the stout old man was weeping, though I
had never seen tears in his eyes before.
"'My darling--my own beautiful wife,' he said, in the abandonment of his
gratitude, 'what should I have done without you?'
"Mr. Dennison spoke so earnestly, that Lawrence must have heard him; but
he was busy about the horses, and seemed quite unconscious of the
tenderness which disturbed me so.
"'Thank God! you have not suffered as I feared,' continued my husband,
encircling me with his arm, and almost carrying me into the house. 'Your
cheeks are flushed, your eyes bright. Oh! my poor darling, I expected to
see you white and drooping.'
"I leaned on him heavily, for my limbs were stiff, and I could hardly
walk, besides a dead heaviness had seized upon my heart. When I shrank
from the open caresses of my husband, this man did not seem to observe
them. Was it that he did not care? This question drove all the unnatural
excitement from me. I was white and cold enough then.
"No, I would not be forced into a dreary bed, and left to my thoughts.
Exhausted as I was, anything seemed better than that. After Cora had
taken off my soiled and torn habit, smoothed my hair and bathed my head
with cologne, I girded a wrapper of soft white cashmere around me, with
a scarf of scarlet silk which lay upon the sofa, and went down, spite of
the girl's remonstrance.
"They were sitting together, those two men, conversing earnestly. I
think Lawrence was giving an account of the terrible danger I had
escaped, for Mr. Dennison was saying as I came up, treading so softly,
that he had no idea of my presence:
"'My friend, it would be a little thing compared to this, that you had
saved my life, for no human being will ever guess how much dearer this
sweet creature is to me than that.'
"'She is indeed a most lovely woman,' answered Lawrence; 'any man might
hold his existence light, in comparison with hers.'
"He spoke quietly, but I observed that his eyes did not seek those of my
husband, and a cold whiteness lay upon his face. Was it the shock of
that scene at the falls harassing him yet, or were unrevealed thoughts
struggling with him?
"My husband started up joyfully when I appeared. He drew an easy-chair
to the window, placed me in it, brought a stool for my feet, and sat
down upon it, lifting his glad eager eyes to my face, with the devotion
of a spaniel, while he patted and caressed the feet his movement had
displaced.
"I felt myself growing angry. Why would the old man thus expose his
folly before our guest, who seemed hewn from marble, so little did he
regard the fondness that filled me with repulsion and shame.
"'Ah, my friend, see how she blushes at her husband's great joy and
thankfulness. My poor child, Lawrence has been telling me all, how brave
and steady you were, held almost by a thread over that fearful whirlpool
without a shriek, and obeying orders like a veteran. He would not tell
me all, but Tom did, so far as the fright would let him. Now say, my
angel, what reward can we give our brave friend? He will not take my
gratitude.'
"'But he must take mine,' I cried, reaching out both hands, with sudden
appeal. 'He must not sit there cold and calm as if he had no interest in
my safety. I cannot bear it.'
"Lawrence started up, and the quick fire leaped to his eyes. He took
both my hands in his, with a firm, almost painful grasp.
"'Not gratitude. I will not have that, because--because it is all so
undeserved. I did nothing that Tom himself would not have thought of. It
was her own sublime courage, sir, that saved us from a terrible
calamity.'
"Mr. Dennison gave me a look that seemed almost like adoration.
"'I am sure she would behave like an angel anywhere,' he said, 'but that
does not lessen the value of your own brave action, my friend, and for
that we are both bound to you forever.'
"'Well, let it rest so,' answered Lawrence, with an uneasy laugh. 'Just
now I feel more like thanking God for a great mercy given, and terrible
peril escaped, than anything else. Upon my word, Dennison, I can almost
feel those white waters boiling around me now.'
"'They would have made an awful winding-sheet,' I said, with a shudder.
'But you saved me, oh, yes, you saved me.'
"'And your husband also, dear one,' said Mr. Dennison; 'for what would
my life have been without you. Why, Lawrence, I have worshipped her ever
since she was a little girl; even then, her proud saucy ways had their
enchantment. She did not know it; how could she? but the old man's heart
was set upon her while she was playing with her doll and bowling her
hoop. Her own father never watched her growth with more interest than I
felt, and when she learned to love me, why then, Lawrence, I knew for
the first time what heaven was.'
"Lawrence looked at me steadily while the old man was speaking, so
steadily, that I felt the hot blood rush to my face. Mr. Dennison
observed this, and went on triumphing in the love he so truly believed
to be his.
"'You see, my friend, how the very remembrance of that sweet confession
bathes her face with blushes. She had taken a fancy to the old fellow
long before a younger rival could think of entering the field against
him, and married him for true love only, not because he was considered
the richest planter in this district. She was innocent as a lamb, and as
disinterested.'
"'Oh, Mr. Dennison,' I broke forth, 'do not talk about these things,
they only weary Mr. Lawrence.'
"'Certainly not. I am deeply interested in everything that makes the
happiness or misery of my friend,' said Lawrence, coldly.
"'Ah, she is too modest, I have always told her so, and far too careless
about her own interests. Why, would you believe it, Lawrence, I could
not get her to look into the state of my property, and learn how much or
how little might hereafter come to her. She did not marry my property,
but my own dear self; these were her very words, and for such words you
cannot blame me if I adore her.'
"I felt myself glowing with shame. If I had ever used such words, it was
when this old man seemed the only refuge left to me in my utter
desolation. Perhaps I said them and felt them just then, for quiet home,
protection, and a shelter were all I asked or hoped for in life; but
now, with that man drinking in every word, I felt such protestations as
a bitter humiliation.
"I arose to go. The conversation had become unbearable. I felt my lips
quiver, and tears of intense mortification gathering to my eyes.
"Lawrence came toward me a step or two, and then retreated, for Mr.
Dennison had given me his arm, and I left the room, bowed down with
humiliation, and burning with shame. Why would the old man talk of me as
he did? Even if I had loved him, it would have been embarrassing; as it
was, all the pride of my nature rose up in revolt against him. At the
foot of the stairs I dropped his arm, and insisted on going up alone.
He seemed astonished and a little hurt. How would it have been had I
dared to express all the rage that was struggling in my bosom?
"Cora was waiting for me. Poor girl! she had been sadly shocked by the
abrupt account of my danger, which Tom had repeated to every one he met.
She is a wayward creature, and at times, I really believe, hates herself
with bitter detestation for the black tinge which taints every drop of
blood in her veins. Never in my whole life have I seen a human being so
sensitive. No matter to her that she is beautiful, and that even the
blacks look upon her as apart from themselves, this bitter truth is
always uppermost in her mind. She has black blood in her veins, and she
was born a slave. I remember how this beautiful girl hated her mother,
because it was through her that the taint and the bonds came. One would
have thought this wretched woman was the slave of her own child, for one
was made to feel all the degradation of her lot, and the other was, to a
certain extent, lifted out of it, from the day she was given to me--a
child myself--as my especial maid. How it used to amuse my father when
this colored child would domineer over and scorn her own mother.
"Sometimes I think Cora is seized with a venomous dislike of myself. I
do not wonder at it. In her way, she is quite as beautiful as I ever
was, and as for talent, the girl surpasses me in everything. Her
industry is untiring, her perceptions quick as lightning. In some other
country she might marry well, and take rank in social life scarcely
second to my own. Sometimes I think her ambition turns that way, for she
is constantly teasing me to take her to Europe. I only wish it were in
my power, for I love the poor girl dearly, and should rejoice to see her
lifted out of the pitiful condition that all of her race must occupy
here, bond or free, for at least a century to come.
"I have been writing about this girl Cora, because she is so connected
with my own life that nothing can separate us. We played together on
equal terms as children, and when she gradually dropped into the habits
of a servant, it made no change in my affection for her. In my chamber
we have always been friends, more than that--more than that!
"Cora saw that I was disturbed, and sitting down at my feet, besought me
to tell her the cause.
"For the first time in my life I had a secret to keep from this girl. I
could not own to her that a few garrulous words from an old man, who had
been so kind to us both, had filled my heart with indignant shame, for
she would have asked why such fond words had the power to offend me, and
there was no answer ready to my lips.
"Perhaps Cora guessed this, for she was quick as the flash of a star in
her intelligence; at any rate, she asked me no questions, but contented
herself with braiding my hair, smoothing it with her soft palms, and
stooping to kiss my forehead when she saw a shadow of discontent pass
over it.
"'Do not fret,' she said, softly, whispering back the thoughts I was
striving to drive from my brain; 'seventy years is longer than most men
live. Only have patience and wait.'
"I was angry with her for understanding that, which I wished buried from
the whole world. Dashing her hands away, I swept the hair she was
braiding in a coil around my head, and turned upon her with such sharp
rebuke, that she retreated from me frightened.
"'Ah! has it gone so far?' she muttered, shaking her head. 'Well, after
this there will be neither patience nor peace for any of us.'
"I ordered her to be silent, and directly after heard her sobbing in the
next room as if her heart were broken.
"Why did Cora's words haunt me all that night? are evil thoughts the
only ones which cling tenaciously to the brain? I tried to cast them
off, heaven knows I did! but that was impossible, nor could I sleep. The
shock upon my nerves had been far too severe for that.
"Why would the old man haunt my room and sit by the pillow on which I
could find no rest? His presence tortured me. I could not keep my aching
eyes from his white hair and the wrinkles on his forehead, which seemed
to deepen and grow prominent in the moonlight of my shaded lamp. How
could I forget his seventy years, with such things before me in my
wakefulness? But he would not leave me; anxiety kept him watchful. It
seemed to me that those bright, earnest eyes read all the dark thoughts
that haunted my brain. I turned my face to the wall and pretended to
sleep. He sat motionless, holding his very breath, for he knew how much
rest must be needed after the awful shock I had received, and would not
frighten it away by a single motion. After a while, when everything was
still, I felt him bending over me; directly his quivering old lips
touched my forehead, and what appeared to me like a heavy rain-drop fell
upon my closed eyelid.
"'Thank God,' he murmured; 'she is asleep at last!'
"This child-like gratitude touched me more than the protest of a
thousand clergymen could have done. How purely and dearly the old man
loved me, and how unworthy I was! Great heavens, why did I ever marry
him, and thus make deception almost a duty? There is one excuse for
me--I did not then know what love meant.
"Toward morning, Mr. Dennison went into his own room; then I breathed
again; true, he was very near, and by changing my position I could see
his white head and grand old face upon the pillow, where he had fallen
asleep with a smile of thankfulness upon his lips. After all, he is
generous, good, and rich in intelligence. Why is it that love will not
go with the reason?
"They would have kept me in bed the next day, but I resisted. The
minutes were too precious for such waste. I went down-stairs, feeling
like a criminal and looking like one, Cora said, but the two gentlemen
regarded my sadness and my pallor as a proof of illness, and would
scarcely allow me to speak, such was their anxiety for my welfare. So I
sat in my easy-chair languid and still, listening to them as they
conversed, and yet gathering but few of their words into my mind. All at
once a blow seemed to have struck me. It was only a word, but that one
word took away my breath. Mr. Dennison had been asking some question,
and Lawrence answered,--
"'To-morrow.'
"'Not so soon as that. Indeed, my friend, we cannot spare you,' said Mr.
Dennison.
"I held my breath. It seemed as if my heart would never beat again. A
slow faintness crept over me while Lawrence answered,--
"'But I must: the business which brings me South is too important for
delay. Already I have spent nearly a month that may cost me dear.'
"His eyes turned full upon mine. They were dark and heavy with sadness.
God forgive me if mine expressed too much!
"'But my wife will never consent to this. Speak, dear, and give him one
of your pretty commands. It must be important business indeed, which can
win him to disobey you.'
"I opened my lips to speak, but no words followed the effort. A choking
sensation came into my throat, and the very light went out from before
my eyes. They thought me insensible, but my faculties were locked up; I
knew everything.
"Mr. Dennison ran into the house, crying out for Cora. That instant
Lawrence took me in his arms; I felt his breath upon my face when he
drew back with a faint exclamation. Cora stood close by him.
"'She is faint, she is insensible,' he said, hurriedly. His voice was
confused, and I could feel that the arm which held me was seized with
sudden trembling. 'It was imprudent to let her come down.'
"Cora put him aside, and took my hand from his, just as Mr. Dennison
came back to the veranda.
"'Ah,' he cried, joyfully; 'she is better, the color is coming back to
her mouth! poor child, poor child! we have let you come out too soon.'
"He stooped down and kissed me tenderly, but I shrunk from him with
sudden recoil, and leaning upon Cora, entered the house, so weary and
sick at heart that I almost prayed to die.
"There was no rest for me that day. One thought occupied my whole mind:
he was going in the morning--going I knew not whither, and the history
of the last two weeks would be henceforth all of life that I should care
to remember. I wandered from room to room, wondering what course I could
take, and how it would be possible to appease the aching pain at my
heart. Sometimes I could hear his voice rising up from the veranda. It
was low and grave, sometimes I thought constrained, as if the words he
uttered came from a preoccupied heart.
"No criminal ever listened for the steps that were to bring him a
reprieve with more interest, than I felt in gathering up the broken
sentences of that conversation. He was going away, first to New Orleans,
then back to New York, where business must suffer until his return. I
heard this clearly. It was no rash speech, but a settled determination;
yet up to that morning he had never spoken of it."