"A vestal priestess, proudly pure
But of a meek and quiet spirit;
With soul all dauntless to endure
And mood so calm that naught can stir it,
Save when a thought most deeply thrilling
Her eyes with gentlest tears is filling,
Which seem with her true words to start
From the deep fountain of her heart."
The fine parlors of Mr. Leroy Edson's tasteful mansion were brilliantly
illuminated. Warm fires glowed in the shining marble grates. Dim argand
lamps bathed in soft light the rich furniture, carved cornices, and rare
statuary which decorated the mantels. The élite of Wimbledon were
assembling, and young Mrs. Edson moved lightly to and fro, receiving her
numerous guests with graceful self-possession, and welcoming them to her
home and heart with warm, earnest cordiality. They were nearly all
strangers to her, as she had been but a few months installed mistress of
Mr. Edson's splendid mansion; but she felt they were the people among
whom she was henceforth to live and find her associates and friends. She
had made one call, only, since her arrival in Wimbledon, and that on Col.
Malcome's family, who were later comers than herself.
Louise Edson was graceful, brilliant, beautiful. O, what a wealth of
thought and intellect was hers; what a broad, generous nature; what
lightning-like perceptions, quick, far-seeing judgment, sparkling humor
and sarcastic wit! She floated in a sea of exuberant life and beauty,
which was fed continually from the exhaustless fountains of her own
thought-wealthy soul. Her calm, clear eyes mirrored the bright fancies
that flitted through her brain. The chestnut hair, brushed away from the
youthful brow, revealed the tiny blue veins on the white expanding
temples; while the high, straight nose and curved nostrils, with the
sweet little mouth and tapering chin that smiled below, made up a face
whose regular features were its least claim to beauty. It was the soul
within which shone over these features and lighted them at times with
supernatural loveliness. And was this brilliant being understood and
appreciated by the man who had won her for his bride? Faugh!--we blush at
our own stupidity in asking the question. Are such lofty souls ever
appreciated by even one of the swarming masses that people the earth with
their corporeal bodies? Let those answer who can.
But Louise, soaring as was her nature, was yet cursed with that weakness
which too often possesses souls like hers, swaying e'en a more tyrant
sceptre than in meaner breasts, as though in envious hate of those
sky-aspiring pinions, and a demon wish to make them lick the dust. She
was an orphan, with no relative save a maiden aunt, with whom she dwelt.
She felt alone in the wide world, and she wanted--O, pity her, reader, if
you can!--she wanted somebody to lean on, somebody to look up to. Could
she not lean on her own strong intellect, and look up to the stars?--or
could she not breathe forth her rich-laden soul in lofty song and
romance, and lean upon the pillars of a world-wide fame? No, O, no! With
all her strength of soul and intellect, she had weak woman's heart. She
must love and be loved; and when the wealthy Mr. Leroy Edson knelt, an
enamored knight, at the shrine of her youth and beauty, she gave him her
hand. He thought he had done a most generous deed in thus raising a poor,
lone orphan girl from comparative obscurity to a position among the
highest circles of society. Her superior education and gem-freighted soul
were all the fortune she brought him; a fortune greater than the
treasures of Ind., but of whose princely value he had not the power to
form the most distant estimate. To behold her tall, graceful figure
flitting through his elegant mansion, performing some light household
duty, receiving her guests or chatting and singing gayly through the long
evenings, was, to him, life's whole of happiness. And was Louise
altogether content with the man of her choice? No, or she had not
gathered Wimbledon about her to make merry the midnight hour. People do
not give fêtes to display their happiness. They give them too often to
relieve a tedious monotony, to silence a gnawing discontent, and forget
for the moment in hilarious excitement some uneasy foreboding of evil to
come, or disquieting conviction that all, even now, is not as it should
be.
Louise had not been many weeks Mrs. Edson, before she discovered the man
she had taken for "better or worse" till death should separate them, was
no helpmeet for her. They had not a thought or sympathy in common. He
hired servants to execute her commands; bought her fine clothes, and fine
books too, when he found these latter most delighted her; but he never
wished to hear her read from them, and invariably yawned if she spoke of
literary subjects. He was good-natured and fond of display, with a fair
estimate of his own importance and standing in society. He regarded
himself as one of the pillars of Wimbledon's wealth and
prosperity;--remove him, and the whole structure would tremble and
perhaps go down with a crash to rise no more. It took but a brief time
for Louise to read her husband's soul through and through; and with her
sharp, critical nature, that could not understand and would not overlook
faults and follies to which her bosom was a stranger, she decided she had
_married a fool_. What was to be done? The act was voluntary on her
part. True, a longer acquaintance between the parties might have led to
a different result, but it was too late to think of that now. And this
was the end of all her heart-longings for some one to love and
reverence, to lean on and look up to! O, how intense was her agony! All
her fine feelings wasted, her soul's wealth poured idly forth, and her
rich life in its blooming years given to one who could not understand
one of her lofty dreams or soaring aspirations. A falcon with sun-daring
eyes tied to a grovelling buzzard! Was't not a hard fate, reader? Pity
her, all ye who can,--pity her a great deal; mourn over her cruel wreck
of happiness; and if in future years the warm, impassioned nature,
goaded by its own unuttered pangs, driven wild by its rayless, hopeless
desolation, is guilty of some irregularities, some acts which virtue and
propriety can hardly sanction, O, remember her early sufferings, and be
merciful!
Mr. Edson's party passed off pleasantly. All seemed delighted with their
entertainment. The lord of the mansion was in great good-humor, and his
beautiful wife the star of the evening. In a simple robe of dark blue
cashmere, which fastened low over her white, sloping shoulders, and
fitted closely her slender waist, while the ample folds swept the rich
tapestry carpets, she moved among her guests like the embodiment of a
graceful thought. Her luxuriant brown hair was gathered in bands at the
back of her head; a massive chain and cross of gold ornamented her
swan-like neck, and bands of the same material clasped her round, white
arms. Small wonder that Mr. Edson should feel proud of his wife. The
whole evening she was the centre of a delighted group. All flocked around
to hear her brilliant conversation and gaze on her animated, expressive
features. Col. Malcome and the gentle Edith engaged a large share of her
attention and regard. The young girl was insensibly attracted by the
affectionate interest evinced in her manner, and the sweet voice and
beaming smile with which she addressed her. Col. Malcome expressed his
admiration of the exquisite taste displayed in the furnishing of her
parlors.
"I cannot tell you, Mrs. Edson," said he, "what I most admire in your
elegant drawing-rooms. They are one harmonious whole; but if you were
removed, I think I would very soon discover what was wanting to render
them complete."
"Now," said Louise, "let me tell you at the commencement of our
acquaintance, which I hope for my humble sake may continue to be
cultivated, that I detest flattery of all things;" and she turned a
smiling glance on him, as these piquant words fell from her pretty, red
lips, rendered more than usually charming by the slight sarcastic curl
she gave them.
"So do I," returned he; "but truth is not flattery."
"In the language of the poet," said she, laughing, "I will not seek to
cope with you in compliment. Do you know I feel a lively interest in your
beautiful daughter?"
"I am gratified to know it," said he, glancing on the bright creature at
his side with an expressive glance. "Edith is a timid little thing; she
would improve under your accomplished tuition. Not that I have the
presumption to ask for her your care and instructions beyond what she
might receive by a neighborly interchange of visits."
"O, say she may spend a portion of every week with me, when spring opens
and the earth is divested of its garb of snow!" said Louise, in a tone of
affectionate eagerness. "You cannot tell how her innocent gayety would
lighten many of my weary hours."
Col. Malcome started as he heard these words, and turned a searching
glance upon her. A slight blush suffused her cheek for a moment, but she
soon regained her self-possession. It was one of her faults to give too
free, unrestrained expression to her thoughts. They came welling up to
her lips, and escaped ere she was aware.
For several moments he continued to gaze on her, and there was something
in his countenance that instantly revealed to her quick eye that he had
not only believed in the weariness she had so thoughtlessly expressed,
but had also fathomed its cause. She felt displeased and irritated at her
own want of caution and what she silently termed his presumption.
"Why do you look on me so strangely?" she asked at length.
"I beg your pardon, madam," said he, suddenly averting his gaze.
"Which I shall not give," returned she, with a slight, dignified movement
of her queenly head, "unless you tell me what you think of me."
"_All_ I think of you, Mrs. Edson," said he, turning his face again
toward hers, "perhaps would not please you to know."
"Yes, all," said Louise, "I will know all."
"Well, this is not the time or place for the disclosure," answered he.
She looked at him sharply as he pronounced these words. He smiled and
added, "I should be monopolizing the time which belongs to your company."
"Ay, yes!" said she, "your words recall the duty I owe to my
condescending guests;" and, bowing, she glided away and joined a company
that surrounded the piano.
"You play, of course, Mrs. Edson," said a portly man with a benevolent
countenance.
"Occasionally, though I have rather a dull ear," she answered, assuming
the music-stool. Several light songs were performed with fine taste and
skill, and received the warmest encomiums of her listeners. Another and
another was called for, till at length she arose and said, "There are
doubtless others here who play far better than myself. I have led the
way, let them follow."
Col. Malcome arose from a sofa near by, on which he had thrown himself to
listen to the fair musician, and assumed the seat she had vacated. A few
prolonged notes, and then one of the most beautiful and intricate
compositions of Beethoven, poured its sonorous strains on the ears of the
assembly. The performer at length seemed to forget all around him, and at
the end of the second chorus joined his own deep, rich tones with the
instrument. All were delighted; but Louise, with her quick sensibilities,
was thrilled to the centre of her soul. And she felt piqued and angry
too; not that he had excelled her, for she was above such small envy,
but----she could not tell why.
The party dispersed, and she found herself again in the solitude of her
own apartment. That swelling chorus rolled through her midnight dreams,
and echoed in her ears for many a day, as she superintended her domestic
affairs, or sat down to the perusal of some treasured volume.