TEMPTATION.
"He will come again on Wednesday," said Lady Cecilia to herself, as she
heard the front door close behind the Rev. Reginald Tracy.
This wily woman was well-acquainted with the human heart: she had
discovered the weak side of the rector of Saint David's: she assailed
him by means of his vulnerable point; she directed her way to his heart
through the avenue of his _vanity_.
Yes--Reginald Tracy was vain,--as vain as a man who was admired and
sought after by all classes, was likely to be rendered,--as vain as a
spoiled child of the public could be.
His life had, moreover, been so pure, so chaste, so ascetic, that the
fierce passions which agitate other men were unknown to him; and, as all
mortals must be characterised by some failing, his was a habit of
self-admiration!
Venial and insignificant was this foible, so long as no advantage was
taken of it by designing or worldly-minded persons; but even our
lightest defects, as well as our most "pleasant vices," may be made the
means of our ruin.
Vanity is a noxious weed which, when nurtured by the dews of flattery,
spreads its poisonous roots throughout the fertile soil of the heart;
and each root springs up into a plant more venomous, more rank; more
baleful than its predecessor.
The life of Reginald Tracy had been singularly pure. He had even passed
through the ordeal of a college career without affixing the least stain
on the chastity of his soul. Yet with all his austerity of virtue, he
was characterised by no austerity of manner: he mixed freely in society,
and hesitated not to frequent the ball-room--although he did not dance.
He could be a pleasant companion: at the same time he never uttered a
word upon which he had to retrospect with regret. When amongst men, no
obscene jest nor ribald allusion was vented in his presence; and yet he
was never voted "a bore." In a word, he was one of those men who possess
the rare talent of maintaining a character for every virtue, and of
being held up as a pattern and an example, without creating a single
enemy--without even being compelled to encounter the irony of the
libertine, and without producing a feeling of restraint or embarrassment
in the society which he frequented.
Such was Reginald Tracy; and it was this man,--who at the age of
thirty-six could look back with complacency upon a spotless life,--a
life unsullied by a single fault,--an existence devoid of the slightest
dereliction from moral propriety,--it was this good, this holy, this
saint-like man whom the daring Cecilia undertook to subdue.
Reginald, Reginald! the day of thy temptation has now come: thou
standest upon a pinnacle of the temple--the tempter is by thy
side;--take good heed of thyself, Reginald Tracy!
"He will come again on Wednesday," had said Lady Cecilia.
The prediction was fulfilled!
The morning had been so inclement that no one would have stirred abroad
unless actuated by important motives. The rain had fallen in
torrents,--beating violently against the windows, and inundating the
streets. It had, however, ceased at noon; but the sky remained covered
with black clouds; and at three o'clock on that gloomy winter-day it was
dark and sombre as if night were at hand.
But in spite of that inauspicious weather, the Rev. Reginald Tracy
knocked at Lady Cecilia Harborough's door at the hour which we have just
mentioned.
The designing creature received the clergyman with a smile, exclaiming
at the same time, "It is indeed kind of you to visit me on such a day as
this. I have been so happy--so resigned--so possessed with the most
complete mental tranquillity since you manifested sympathy and interest
in my behalf, that your presence appears to be that of a good angel!"
"It is our duty to sustain those who droop, and console those who
suffer," answered the rector.
"Delightful task!" ejaculated Cecilia. "What a pure and holy
satisfaction must you enjoy, when you reflect upon the amount of comfort
which your lessons impart to the world-wearied and sinking spirit.
Believe me, many an one has entered the gates of your chapel with a
weight upon his soul almost too heavy for him to bear, and has issued
forth carrying his burden of care lightly, if not cheerfully, along!"
"Do you really imagine that my humble agency can produce such good
results in the cause of heaven?" asked Reginald, fixing a glance of
mingled tenderness and satisfaction upon the charming countenance of
Cecilia.
"I do--I do," she answered, with apparent enthusiasm; "I can judge by
the effect which your admirable discourse of last Sunday morning
produced upon myself. For--let me not deceive you," she continued,
hanging down her head, and speaking in a tremulous and tender
voice,--"let me not deceive you--it was not the heat of the chapel which
overcame me--it was your eloquence! I dared not confess this to you at
first; but now--now that I can look upon you as a friend--I need have no
secret from you."
She took his hand as she uttered these words, and pressed it in a manner
which he conceived to be indicative of grateful fervour; and without a
thought of evil--but with an undefinable sensation of pleasure to which
until lately he had been all his life a stranger--he returned that
pressure.
Lady Cecilia did not withdraw her hand, but allowed it to linger in his;
and he retained it under the influence of that sensation which caused
his veins to flow with liquid fire.
He was sitting on the sofa by her side, and his eyes wandered from her
countenance over the outlines of her form.
"Oh! how can the man who accompanied you to the altar, and there swore
to love and cherish you," he exclaimed, in an ebullition of impassioned
feelings such as he had never known before,--"how can that man find it
in his heart to neglect--to abandon you,--you who are evidently all
gentleness, amiability, and candour!"
"He has no heart--no soul for any one save himself," answered Cecilia.
"And now tell me--relieve my mind from a most painful suspense upon one
point! Am I criminal in the eyes of heaven, because I have ceased to
love one whom I vowed to love, but whose conduct has quenched all the
affection that I once experienced for him?"
"You must not harden your heart against him," said Reginald; "but by
your resignation, your uncomplaining patience, your meekness, and your
constant devotion to his interests, you must seek to bring him back to
the paths of duty and love."
"I might as well essay to teach the hyena gratitude," answered Cecilia.
"You speak too bitterly," rejoined the rector of Saint David's; and yet
he was not altogether displeased at the aversion which Lady Cecilia's
language manifested towards her husband.
"Alas! we have no power over volition," said she; "and that doctrine is
a severe one which enjoins us to kiss the hand that strikes us."
"True," observed Reginald. "I know not how it is--but I feel that I am
at this moment unaccountably deficient in argument to meet your
objections; and yet----"
He paused, for he felt embarrassed; but he knew not why.
"Oh! you can appreciate the difficulty of enjoining a love towards one
who merits hatred," exclaimed Cecilia, now skilfully availing herself of
the crisis to which she had so artfully conducted the conversation. "You
see that you are deficient in reasoning to enforce the alleged necessity
of maintaining, cherishing, and nourishing respect and veneration for a
husband who has forfeited all claims to such feelings on the part of his
injured wife. At all events, do not tell me that I am criminal in
ceasing to love one who oppresses me;--do not say that I offend heaven
by ceasing to kiss the hand that rudely repulses all my overtures of
affection;--oh! tell me not _that_--or you will make me very, very
miserable indeed!"
Lady Cecilia's bosom was convulsed with sobs as she uttered these words
in a rapid and impassioned manner; and as she ceased speaking her head
fell upon Reginald's shoulder.
"Compose yourself--compose yourself, Lady Cecilia," exclaimed the
clergyman, alarmed by this ebullition of grief, the sincerity of which
he could not for one moment suspect. "Do not give way to
sorrow--remember the lessons of resignation and patience which you have
heard from my lips--remember----"
But the lady sobbed as if her heart would break: her head reclined upon
his shoulder--her forehead touched his face--her hand was still clasped
in his.
"Oh Reginald!--Reginald!" she murmured, "I cannot love my husband
more--no--it is impossible! I love another!"
"You love another!" ejaculated the rector, his whole frame trembling
with an ineffable feeling of mingled joy and suspense.
"Yes--and now reproach, revile me--leave me--spurn me--treat me with
contempt!" continued Cecilia: "do all this if you will; but never, never
can you prevent me from idolizing--adoring you!"
"Cecilia!" cried Reginald Tracy, starting from his seat; "you know not
what you are saying!"
"Alas! I know but too well the feelings which my words express,"
returned the lady, clasping her hands together, and sobbing violently.
"Hear me for a few minutes, and then leave me to the misery of my
fate--a hopeless love, and a breaking heart!"
"Speak, then, and unburden your mind to me without reserve," said
Reginald, resuming his seat upon the sofa, and inviting a confidence the
thought of which produced in his mind emotions of bliss and burning joy,
the power of which was irresistible.
"Yes, I will speak, even though I render myself contemptible in your
sight," continued Cecilia, wiping her eyes and affecting to resume that
calmness which she had never lost more than the impassioned actress on
the stage, when enacting some melo-dramatic part. "For months and months
past I have cherished for you a feeling, the true nature of which has
only revealed itself to me within the last few days. In the first
instance, I admired your character and your talents: I respected you;
and respect and admiration soon ripened into another feeling. You do not
know the heart of woman; but it is ever moved by a contemplation of the
sublime characteristics of remarkable men--like you. I met you in
society, and I almost worshipped the ground on which you trod. I
listened to your conversation: not a word was lost to me! During long
and sleepless nights your image was ever present to my mind. You became
an idol that I adored. At length you yourself, one evening, innocently
and unconsciously, fanned the flame that was engendered in my heart: you
told me that _I looked well_. That passing compliment rendered me your
devoted slave. I thought that no human happiness could be greater than
that of pleasing you. I resolved to attend your chapel from that period.
I obtained the pew that was nearest to the pulpit; and when you preached
I was electrified. Oh! you saw how I was overcome! Your attention to me
on that occasion threw additional chains around me. Then you called on
me the day before yesterday, and you spoke so kindly that I was every
moment on the point of falling at your feet, and exclaiming,--'_Forgive
me, but I now know that I love you!_' You proffered me your friendship:
how joyously I accepted the sacred gift! And that friendship--oh! let me
not forfeit it now--for the love which my heart cherishes for you shall
be as pure and taintless as that friendship with which you have blessed
me!"
Reginald had listened to this strange confession with the most profound
attention;--yes, and with the deepest interest.
A young and beautiful woman had avowed her love for him--she sate near
him;--his hand still thrilled with the pressure of hers--his cheek was
still warm and flushed with the contact of her white and polished
forehead;--the room was involved in obscurity and silence.
She had insinuated herself, in an incredibly short space of time, into
his heart, by flattering his vanity and exciting those desires which had
hitherto slumbered so profoundly in his breast, but which were now ready
to burst for with the violence of the long pent-up volcano.
He trembled--he hesitated. At one moment he was inclined to rush from
the house, as if from the presence of the tempter; and then he
remembered that the love which she had avowed was as pure as his
friendship!
Nevertheless, the struggle in his mind was terrific.
Cecilia understood it all.
"You hate me--you despise me," she suddenly exclaimed, covering her face
with her hands. "Oh! do not crush me with your contempt--do not abandon
me to the conviction of your abhorrence! Reginald--take pity upon me:
forgive me for loving you--forgive me--on my knees I implore you!"
She threw herself before him: she took his hand and pressed it to her
lips.
She covered it with kisses.
"Cecilia," murmured the rector, making a faint effort to withdraw his
hand.
"No--no, you shall not leave me thus," she exclaimed, with apparent
wildness: "I should die if you went away, without telling me that you
forgive me! No, you must not leave me thus!"
"Rise, Cecilia--rise--in the name of heaven, rise!" exclaimed Reginald,
alarmed lest they should be discovered in that equivocal position:
"rise, and I will forgive you. I will do all that you desire--I will not
leave you until you are composed."
"And you will return and see me again? you will not withdraw your
friendship?" demanded Cecilia, in a soft and melting tone.
"No--never, never!" cried Reginald, enthusiastically, as if he suddenly
abandoned himself to the torrent of passion which now swept through his
soul.
"Oh! thank you--thank you for that assurance!" exclaimed Cecilia; and,
as if yielding to an unconquerable burst of feeling, she threw herself
into his arms: "you shall be as a brother to me; and our friendship, our
love, shall be eternal!"
Her rich red mouth was pressed upon the rector's lips; her arms were
wound around him; and for a moment he yielded to the intoxicating
delight of that pleasure so new to him.
But ere he was entirely culpable, his guardian genius struck his soul
with a sudden remorse; and, disengaging himself from the syren's arms,
he imprinted one long--burning--delicious kiss upon her lips; then,
murmuring, "To-morrow, to-morrow, dearest Cecilia, I will see thee
again," rushed from the room.
"He is mine!" exclaimed the lady, as the door closed behind him;
"irrevocably mine!"