THE FALL.
Reginald Tracy returned to his own abode, his breast agitated with a
variety of conflicting feelings.
He pushed his old housekeeper, who announced to him that dinner was
ready, rudely aside, and hurried up to his own chamber.
There he threw himself upon his knees, and endeavoured to pray to be
released from temptation.
For he now comprehended all the dangers which beset him, although he
suspected not the perfidy and artifice of the tempter.
But not a word of supplication could he utter from the mouth which still
burned with the thrilling kisses of the beautiful Cecilia.
He rose from his knees, and paced the room wildly,--at one moment vowing
never to see that syren more,--at another longing to rush back to her
arms.
The animal passions of that man were strong by nature and threatened to
be insatiable whenever let loose; but they had slumbered from his birth,
beneath the lethargic influence of high principle and asceticism.
Moreover, they had never been tempted until the present time; and now
that temptation came so suddenly, and in so sweet a guise,--came with
such irresistible blandishments,--came, in a word, so accompanied with
all that could flatter his vanity or minister unto his pride,--that he
knew not how to resist its influence.
And at one moment that man of unblemished character and lofty principle
fell upon his knees, grovelling as it were at the foot-stool of Him whom
he served,--anxious, yearning to crave for courage to escape from the
peril that awaited him,--and yet unable to breathe a syllable of prayer.
Then he walked in a wild and excited manner up and down, murmuring the
name of Cecilia,--pondering upon her charms,--plunging into voluptuous
reveries and dreams of vaguely comprehended bliss,--until his desires
became of that fiery, hot, and unruly nature, which triumphed over all
other considerations.
It was an interesting--and yet an awful spectacle, to behold that man,
who could look back over a life of spotless and unblemished purity, now
engaged in a terrific warfare with the demons of passion that were
raging to cast off their chains, and were struggling furiously for
dominion over the proud being who had hitherto held them in silence and
in bondage.
But those demons had acquired strength during their long repose; and now
that the day of rebellion had arrived, they maintained an avenging and
desperate conflict with him who had long been their master. They were
like a people goaded to desperation by the atrocities of a blood-thirsty
tyrant: they fought a battle in which there was to be no quarter, but
wherein one side or the other must succumb.
Hour after hour passed; and still he sustained the conflict with the new
feelings which had been excited within him, and which were rapidly
crushing all the better sentiments of his soul. At length he retired to
bed, a prey to a mental uneasiness which amounted to a torture.
His sleep was agitated and filled with visions by no means calculated to
calm the fever of his blood. He awoke in the morning excited, unsettled,
and with a desperate longing after pleasures which were as yet vague and
undefined to him.
But still a sense of the awful danger which menaced him stole into his
mind from time to time; and he shuddered as if he were about to commit a
crime.
He left the table, where the morning's meal was untasted, and repaired
to his study. But his books had no longer any charm for him: he could
not settle his mind to read or write.
He went out, and rambled in all directions, reckless whither he
went--but anxious to throw off the spell which had fallen upon him.
Vain was this attempt.
The air was piercing and cold; but his brow was burning. He felt that
his cheeks were flushed; and his eyes seemed to shoot forth fire.
"My God! what is the matter with me?" he exclaimed, in his anguish, as
he entered Hyde Park, the comparative loneliness of which at that season
he thought calculated to soothe his troubled thoughts. "I have tried to
pray--and last night, for the first time in my life, I sought my pillow,
unable to implore the blessings of my Maker. Oh! what spell has
overtaken me? what influence is upon me? Cecilia--Cecilia--is it indeed
thou that hast thus changed me?"
He went on,--now musing upon all that had passed within the few
preceding days--now breaking forth into wild and passionate
exclamations.
He left the Park, and walked rapidly through the streets of the West
End.
"No," he said within himself, "I will never see her more. I will conquer
these horrible feelings--I will triumph over the mad desires, the fiery
cravings which have converted the heaven of my heart into a raging hell!
Oh! why is she so beautiful? why did she say that she loved me? Was it
to disturb me in my peaceful career--to wean me from my God? No--no: she
yielded to an impulse which she could not control;--she loves me--she
loves me--she loves me!"
There was a species of insanity in his manner as he thus addressed
himself,--not speaking with the lips, but with the heart,--unheard by
those who passed him by, but with a voice which vibrated like thunder in
his own ears.
"Yes--she loves me," he continued; "but I must fly from her--I must
avoid her as if she were a venomous serpent. I dare not trust myself
again in her presence: and not for worlds--not for worlds would I be
with her alone once more. No,--I must forget her--I must tear her image
from my heart--I must trample it under foot!"
He paused as he spoke: he stood still--for he was exhausted.
But how was it that the demon of mischief had, with an under-current of
irresistible influence, carried him on, in spite of the forceful flow of
the above reflections, to the very goal of destruction!
He was in Tavistock Square.
He was at the door of Lady Cecilia Harborough's house.
And now for one minute a terrific conflict again raged within him. It
seemed as if he collected all his remaining courage to struggle with the
demons in his heart; but he was weak with the protracted contest--and
they were more powerful than ever.
"I will see her once more," he said, yielding to the influence of his
passions: "I will tell her that I stand upon an abyss--I will implore
her to have mercy upon me, and permit me to retreat ere yet it be too
late!"
His good genius held him faintly back; but his passions goaded him on:
he obeyed the latter impulse; he rushed up the steps and knocked at the
door.
"Even now I might retreat," he said to himself: "there is still time! I
will--I will!"
He turned, and was already half-way down the steps, when the door was
opened.
His good resolutions vanished, and he entered the house.
In a few moments more he was in the presence of Lady Cecilia,--Lady
Cecilia--looking more bewitching, more captivating than ever!
She had expected him, and had resolved that this visit, on his part,
should crown her triumph.
It was in a small parlour adjoining her own boudoir that she received
him.
The luxurious sofa was placed near the cheerful fire: the heavy curtains
were drawn over the windows in such a manner as to darken the room.
Cecilia was attired in a black silk dress, that she had purposely chosen
to enhance the transparent brilliancy of her complexion, and to display
the dazzling whiteness of a bust, which, though of small proportions,
was of perfect contour.
She was reclining languidly upon the cushions which were piled on one
end of the sofa, and her little feet peeped from beneath the skirts of
her dress.
She did not rise when Reginald entered the room, but invited him to take
a seat near her upon the sofa.
So bewitchingly beautiful did she appear, as the strong glare of the
fire played upon her countenance, amidst the semi-obscurity of the room,
that he could not resist the signal.
He accordingly sate down by her side.
"Your visit to-day," said Cecilia, "proves to me that you have forgiven
the indiscreet confession into which I was yesterday led in a moment of
weakness."
"I am come as a friend--as a true and sincere _friend_," returned
Reginald, with considerable emphasis upon the last word. "But I know not
whether my occupations, my duties, in a word--will permit me to visit
you again for some time----"
"Oh! do not deprive me of the pleasure of your society from time to
time," interrupted Cecilia, divining all that was passing in the
rector's soul, and well aware, by the tremulous tone in which he spoke,
that his good resolutions were but unequal opponents to the fury of his
newly awakened passions.
"Listen, Lady Cecilia," answered Reginald; "and I will tell you frankly
the real motives which most compel me to forego the pleasure of your
society in future. I tremble for myself!"
"You tremble for yourself!" repeated Cecilia, with ill-concealed joy.
"Do you think me, then, so very formidable?"
"Formidable--oh! no," ejaculated Reginald, darting an impassioned glance
upon his ravishing companion. "But I consider that you are very
beautiful--too beautiful for me thus to seek your presence with
impunity."
"Then would you sever that bond of friendship which you yourself
proposed so generously, so kindly?" asked Lady Cecilia, placing her hand
upon that of the rector, and approaching her countenance towards his as
if to read the answer in his eyes.
"It must be so--it must be so--for my peace of mind, Cecilia!" cried
Reginald, thrilled by that electric touch, and receiving into his own
soul no small portion of that same voluptuousness which animated the
fair patrician at that moment.
"It must be so,--oh! cruel resolve!" said Cecilia, pressing his hand
between both of hers. "But let me not advance my selfish feelings as a
barrier to your interest. Oh! no, Reginald--I would sacrifice every
thing to give you pleasure! You shall go--you shall leave me; but you
will sometimes think of me--you will occasionally devote a thought to
her who has dared to love you!"
"Dared to love me!" exclaimed the rector;--"and what if I---- but no--it
is madness!"
"Speak--tell me what you were about to say," murmured Cecilia, in a
melting tone.
"I was on the point of asking what you would think--what opinion you
would form of me, if I were to confess that I also dared to love you?"
"I should reply that such happiness never could descend upon me," said
Cecilia.
"And yet it is true--it is true! I cannot conceal it from myself,"
exclaimed Reginald, giving way to the influence of his emotions: "it is
true that I love you!"
"Oh! am I indeed so blest?" faltered Cecilia. "Tell me once more that
you love me!"
"Love you!" cried the rector, unable to wrestle longer with his mad
desires: "I worship--I adore you--I will die for you!"
He caught her in his arms, and covered her with burning and impassioned
kisses.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Oh, Reginald! and hast thou at length fallen? Have a few short days
sufficed to undo and render as naught the purity--the chastity of years?
Where was thy guardian angel in that hour?
Whither had fled that proud virtue which raised thee so high above thy
fellow-men, and which gave to thine eloquence the galvanic effect of the
most sublime truth?
Look back--look back, with bitterness and sorrow, upon the brilliant
career through which thou hast run up to this hour, and curse the
madness that prompted thee to darken so bright a destiny!
For thou hast plucked thine own crown of integrity from thy brow, and
hast trampled it under foot.
Henceforth, in thine own heart, wilt thou know thyself as a hypocrite
and a deceiver!
* * * * *
* * * * *
It was past eleven o'clock when Reginald Tracy issued from the abode of
Lady Cecilia Harborough.
The night was dark; but from time to time the moon shone for a short
interval, as the clouds were swept away from its face.
Reginald paused for a moment upon the steps of the door, and gazed
upwards.
The tempestuous aspect of the heavens alarmed him; and a superstitious
dread crept, like a death-shudder, over his entire frame; for it seemed
to him as if the mansion of the Almighty had put on its sable garb in
mourning for a soul that was lost unto the blessings of eternity.
Deeply imbued as he was with a sense of the grand truths of the gospel,
this sudden and awful idea speedily assumed so dread a shape in his
mind, that he felt alarmed, as if a tremendous gulph were about to open
beneath his feet.
He hurried on, hoping to outstrip his thoughts; but that idea pursued
him,--haunted him,--every moment increasing in terrific solemnity, until
it wore the appearance of a mighty truth instead of a phantom of the
imagination.
Again he looked upwards; and the dense sombre clouds, which rolled
rapidly like huge black billows over each other, imparted fresh terrors
to his guilty soul.
Then his feverish and excited imagination began to invest those clouds
with fantastic shapes; and he traced in the midst of the heavens a
mighty black hand, the fore-finger of which pointed menacingly
_downwards_.
The more he gazed--the more palpable to his mind that apparition became.
Half sinking with terror--oppressed with an astounding, a crushing
consciousness of his adulterous guilt--the wretched man went wildly on,
reckless of the way which he pursued, and every minute casting
horror-stricken glances up to the colossal black hand which seemed
suspended over his head.
Suddenly a deafening peal of thunder burst above him: he looked
frantically up--the hand appeared to wave in a convulsive manner--then
the clouds parted, rolling pell-mell over each other,--and the terrific
sign was broken into a hundred moving masses.
Never did erring mortal so acutely feel his guilt as Reginald Tracy on
this fearful night.
The storm burst forth; and he ran madly on, without aim--a prey to the
most appalling reflections.
It was not of this world that he now thought,--it was not on its
reproaches, its blame, or its punishment, that his mental looks were
fixed;--but it was of eternity that he was afraid.
He trembled when he thought of that Maker whose praise he had so lately
sung with pride, and hope, and joy,--and whose name he dared not now
invoke!
Oh! his punishment had already begun.
* * * * *
* * * * *
Weak, wearied, subdued,--drenched with the rain that had accompanied the
storm; and in state of mind bordering upon madness and despair, the
wretched man reached his home at four o'clock in the morning.
But whither he had wandered, and which way he had taken,--whether he had
continued running on, or had rested once or often during that terrific
night, he never remembered.
He retired to bed, and slept during several hours. When he awoke, the
sun was shining gloriously through his casement; but the horrors and the
congenial reflections of darkness had left too fearful an impression
upon his mind to be readily effaced; for he was not so inured to vice as
to treat with levity the events of the past night,--events which to his
superstitious imagination had assumed the aspect of celestial warning
and divine menace.