RUSSELL VISITS ELECTRA
The patient work of twelve months drew to a close; the study of years bore
its first fruit; the last delicate yet quivering touch was given; Electra
threw down palette and brush, and, stepping back, surveyed the canvas. The
Exhibition would open within two days, and this was to be her contribution.
A sad-eyed Cassandra, with pallid, prescient, woe-struck features--an
over-mastering face, wherein the flickering light of divination struggled
feebly with the human horror of the To-Come, whose hideous mysteries were
known only to the royal prophetess. In mute and stern despair it looked out
from the canvas, a curious anomalous thing--cut adrift from human help,
bereft of aid from heaven--yet, in its doomed isolation, scorning to ask
the sympathy which its extraordinary loveliness extorted from all who saw
it. The artist's pride in this, her first finished creation, might well be
pardoned, for she was fully conscious that the cloud-region of a painful
novitiate lay far beneath her; that henceforth she would never miss the
pressure of long-coveted chaplets from her brow; that she should bask in
the warm, fructifying rays of public favour; and measureless exultation
flashed in her beautiful eyes.
The door opened, and Russell came into the studio. She was not expecting
him; his sudden appearance gave her no time to adjust the chilling mask of
pride, and all her uncontrolled affection found eloquent language in the
joyful face.
"Russell! my own dear Russell!"
He drew his arm around her and kissed her flushed cheek, and each looked at
the other, wondering at the changes which years had wrought.
"Electra, you have certainly improved more than anyone I ever knew. You
look the impersonation of perfect health; it is needless to ask how you
are." And again his lips touched the beaming face pressed against his
shoulder. Her arms stole tremblingly around his neck, past indifference
was forgotten in the joy of his presence.
"Sit down, and let me look at you. You have grown so tall and commanding
that I am half afraid of my own cousin. You are less like Aunt Amy than
formerly."
"Allow me to look at your painting first, for it will soon be too dark to
examine it. This is the Cassandra of which you wrote me."
He stood before it for some moments in silence, and she watched him with
breathless eagerness--for his opinion was of more value to her than that of
all the _dilettanti_ and _connoisseurs_ who would soon inspect it.
Gradually his dark cold face kindled, and she had her reward.
"It is a masterly creation; a thing of wonderful and imperishable beauty;
it is a great success--as such the world will receive it--and hundreds will
proclaim your triumph. I am proud of it, and doubly proud of you."
He held out his hand, and, as she put her fingers in his, her head drooped,
and hot tears blinded her. Praise from the lips she loved best stirred her
womanly heart as the applause of the public could never do.
"Come, sit down, Electra, and tell me something of your life, since the
death of your friend, Mr. Clifton."
"Did you receive my last letter, giving an account of Mrs. Clifton's
death?"
"Yes; just as I stepped upon the platform of the cars it was handed to me.
I had heard nothing from you for so long, that I thought it was time to
look after you."
"You had started, then, before you knew that I was going to Europe?"
"Yes."
He could not understand the instantaneous change which came over her
countenance--the illumination, followed as suddenly by a smile, half
compassionate, half bitter. She pressed one hand to her heart, and said--
"Mrs. Clifton never seemed to realize her son's death, though, after
paralysis took place, and she became speechless, I thought she recovered
her memory in some degree. She survived him just four months, and,
doubtless, was saved much grief by her unconsciousness of what had
occurred. Poor old lady! she suffered little for a year past, and died, I
hope, without pain. I have the consolation of knowing that I did all that
could be done to promote her comfort. Russell, I would not live here for
any consideration; nothing but a sense of duty has detained me this long. I
promised him that I would not forsake his mother. But you can have no
adequate conception of the feeling of desolation which comes over me when I
sit here during the long evenings. He seems watching me from picture-frames
and pedestals; his face, his pleading, patient, wan face, haunts me
perpetually. And yet I tried to make him happy; God knows I did my duty."
She sprang up and paced the room for some moments, with her hands behind
her, and tears glittering on her cheeks. Pausing at last on the rug, she
pointed to a large square object, closely shrouded and added--
"Yonder stands his last picture, unfinished. The day he died he put a few
feeble strokes upon it, and bequeathed the completion of the task to me.
For several years he worked occasionally on it, but much remains to be
done. It is the 'Death of Socrates.' I have not even looked at it since
that night; I do not intend to touch it until after I visit Italy; I doubt
whether my hand will ever be steady enough to give the last strokes. Oh,
Russell! the olden time, the cottage days, seem far, far off to me now!"
Leaning against the mantelpiece, she dropped her head on her hand, but when
he approached and stood at the opposite corner, he saw that the tears had
dried.
"Neither of us has had a sunny life, Electra; both have had numerous
obstacles to contend with; both have very bitter memories. Originally there
was a certain parallelism in our characters, but with our growth grew the
divergence. You have preserved the nobler part of your nature better than
I; for my years I am far older than you; none of the brightness of my
boyhood seems to linger about me. Contact with the world is an indurating
process; I really did not know how hard I had grown, until I felt my heart
soften at sight of you. I need you to keep the kindly charities and gentle
amenities of life before me, and, therefore, I have come for you. But for
my poverty I never would have given you up so long; I felt that it would
be for your advantage, in more than one respect to remain with Mr. Clifton
until I had acquired my profession. I knew that you would enjoy privileges
here which I could not give you in my straitened circumstances. Things have
changed; Mr. Campbell has admitted me to partnership; my success I consider
an established fact. Give up, for a season, this projected tour of Europe;
wait till I can go with you--till I can take you; go back to W---- with me.
You can continue your art studies, if you wish it; you can prosecute them
there as well as here. You are ambitious, Electra; so am I; let us work
together."
She raised her head and looked up at the powerful, nobly-proportioned form,
the grand, kingly face, calm and colourless, the large, searching black
eyes, within whose baffling depths lay all the mysteries of mesmerism, and
a spasm of pain seized her own features. She shaded her brow, and
answered--
"No, Russell; I could not entertain that thought an instant."
"Are you too proud to accept a home from me?"
"Not too proud, exactly; but, as long as I have health, I mean to make a
support. I will not burden you."
"Full value received for benefit rendered is not charity; come to W----,
share my future, and what fortune I may find assigned me. I have bought the
cottage, and intend to build a handsome house there some day, where you and
Mr. Campbell and I can live peacefully. You shall twine your aesthetic
fancies all about it, to make it picturesque enough to suit your fastidious
artistic taste. Come and save me from what you consider my worse than
vandalian proclivities. I came here simply and solely in the hope of
prevailing on you to return with me. I make this request, not because I
think it will be expected of me, but for more selfish reasons--because it
is a matter resting very near my heart."
"Oh, Russell! you tempt me."
"I wish to do so. My blood beats in your veins; you are the only relative I
value, and were you indeed my sister, I should scarcely love you more. With
all a brother's interest, why should I not claim a brother's right to keep
you with me, at least until you find your Pylades, and give him a higher
claim before God and man? Electra, were I your brother, you would require
no persuasion; why hesitate now?"
She clasped her hands behind her, as if for support in some fiery ordeal,
and, gathering up her strength, spoke rapidly, like one who fears that
resolution will fail before some necessary sentence is pronounced.
"You are very kind and generous, Russell, and for all that you have offered
me I thank you from the depth of a full heart. The consciousness of your
continued interest and affection is inexpressibly precious; but my
disposition is too much like your own to suffer me to sit down in idleness,
while there is so much to be done in the world. I, too, want to earn a
noble reputation, which will survive long after I have been gathered to my
fathers; I want to accomplish some work, looking upon which, my
fellow-creatures will proclaim: 'That woman has not lived in vain; the
world is better and happier because she came and laboured in it.' I want my
name carved, not on monumental marble only, but upon the living, throbbing
heart of my age!--stamped indelibly on the generation in which my lot is
cast. Perhaps I am too sanguine of success; a grievous disappointment may
await all my ambitious hopes, but failure will come from want of genius,
not lack of persevering patient toil. Upon the threshold of my career,
facing the loneliness of coming years, I resign that hope with which, like
a golden thread, most women embroider their future. I dedicate myself, my
life, unreservedly to Art."
"You believe that you will be happier among the marble and canvas of Italy
than in W---- with me?"
"Yes; I shall be better satisfied there. All my life it has gleamed afar
off, a glorious land of promise to my eager, longing spirit. From childhood
I have cherished the hope of reaching it, and the fruition is near at hand.
Italy! bright Alma Mater of the art to which I consecrate my years. Do you
wonder that, like a lonely child, I stretch, out my arms toward it? Yet my
stay there will be but for a season. I go to complete my studies, to make
myself a more perfect instrument for my noble work, and then I shall come
home--come, not to New York, but to my own dear native South, to W----,
that I may labour under the shadow of its lofty pines, and within hearing
of its murmuring river--dearer to me than classic Arno, or immortal Tiber.
I wrote you that Mr. Clifton had left me a legacy, which, judiciously
invested, will defray my expenses in Europe, where living is cheaper than
in this country. Mr. Young has taken charge of the money for me, and has
kindly offered to attend to my remittances. Aunt Ruth's friends, the
Richardsons, consented to wait for me until after the opening of the
Exhibition of the Academy of Design, and one week from to-morrow we expect
to sail."
"What do you know of the family?"
"Nothing, except that the lady, who is an old friend of my aunt, is
threatened with consumption, and has been advised to spend a year or two in
Florence. Aunt Ruth took me to see her the other day; she seems intelligent
and agreeable, and I daresay I shall find her kind and pleasant enough."
"Since such is the programme you have marked out, I trust that no
disappointments await you, and that all your bright dreams may be realized.
But if it should prove otherwise, and you grow weary of your art, sick of
isolation, and satiated with Italy, remember that I shall welcome you home
and gladly share with you all that I possess. You are embarking in an
experiment which thousands have tried before you, and wrecked happiness
upon; but I have no right to control your future, and certainly no desire
to discourage you. At all events, I hope our separation will be brief."
A short silence followed, broken at last by Electra, who watched him keenly
as she spoke--
"Tell me something about Irene. Of course, in a small town like W----, you
must see her frequently."
"By no means. I think I have seen her but three times since her
childhood--once riding with her father, then accidentally at church, and
again a few evenings before I left, at the graveyard, where she was
dressing a tombstone with flowers. There we exchanged a few words for the
first time, and this reminds me that I am bearer of a message yet
undelivered. She inquired after you, and desired me to tender you her love
and best wishes."
"I have her here in crayons; tell me what you think of the likeness."
She took down a portfolio and selected the head of her quondam playmate,
holding it under the gaslight, and still scrutinizing her cousin's
countenance. He took it, and looked gravely, earnestly, at the lovely
features.
"It scarcely does her justice; I doubt whether any portrait ever will.
Beside, the expression of her face has changed materially since this was
sketched. There is a harder outline now about her mouth, less of dreaminess
in the eyes, more of cold _hauteur_ in the whole face. If you desire it, I
can in one line of Tennyson photograph her proud beauty, as I saw her
mounted on her favourite horse, the week that I left home--
"'Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null!'"
He laid the drawing back in the open portfolio, crossed the room, and took
up his hat.
"Where are you going, Russell? Can't you spend the evening with me at Aunt
Ruth's?"
"No, thank you; I must go. There is to be a great political meeting at
Tammany Hall to-night, and I am particularly anxious to attend."
"What! are you, too, engaged in watching the fermentation of the political
vat?"
"Yes, I am most deeply interested; no true lover of his country can fail to
be so at this juncture."
"How long will you be in New York?"
"Since I cannot persuade you to return with me, my stay here will be
shortened. One of our courts meets soon, and though Mr. Campbell will be
there to attend to the cases, I want, if possible, to be present. I shall
return day after to-morrow. And now good night; I will see you early in the
morning."
The door closed behind him, and she remained standing for some time just as
he left her. Slowly the folded hands shrank from each other, and dropped
nerveless to her side; the bright glow in her cheeks, the dash of crimson
on her lips, faded from both; the whole face relaxed into an expression of
hopeless agony.