MARTYRDOM.
After this event Lady Kárpáthy was very seriously ill; for a long time
her life was even despaired of. Kárpáthy summoned the most famous
doctors in the world to attend to her, and they consulted and prescribed
for her, but none of them could tell what was the matter. It is a great
pity that nobody knows how to prescribe for the heart.
For a long time she was delirious, and talked a lot of nonsense, as sick
people generally do whose fevered brains are full of phantoms.
A soft smooth hand stroked her burning forehead from time to time. It
was the hand of Flora, who watched by the sick-bed night and day,
denying herself sleep, denying herself even the sight of her husband,
despite the terrifying suggestions of Dame Marion, who maintained that
Madame Kárpáthy was sickening for small-pox.
If that had been all the poor woman was suffering from, how little it
would have been!
At last Nature triumphed. A young constitution usually struggles more
severely with Death than an old one, and throws him off more quickly.
Fanny was delivered from death. When first she was able to look around
her with an unclouded mind, she perceived two persons sitting by her
side; one was Flora, the other--Teresa.
Though nothing in the world would have induced Teresa to call upon Fanny
as a visitor, the very first rumour of her severe illness brought her to
her side. She arrived on the very day when a change for the better had
set in, and relieved Flora by taking her turn in the nursing.
Nevertheless, Lady Szentirmay would not depart till she knew for certain
that her friend was out of danger, and therefore resolved to wait a few
days longer.
So Fanny regained life and consciousness; she no longer chattered oddly
and unintelligibly, but lay very still and quiet. She was cured, the
doctors said.
And now she could coldly review the whole course of her life. What was
he, what had she become now, and what would become of her in the future?
She was the scion of a wretched and shameful family, from whose fate she
had only been snatched by hands which, wont to lift themselves in prayer
to God, had shielded and defended her against every danger, and prepared
for her a peaceful and quiet refuge, where she might have lived like a
bird of the forest in its hidden nest.
This refuge she had been forced to quit, in order to take her place in
the great world--that great world which had so much in it that was
terrifying to her.
Then she had sought a woman's heart that could understand her, and a
manly face that might serve her for an ideal.
And she had found them both--the noble-hearted friend, who had been so
good, so kind to her, far better and kinder than she had dared to hope;
and the idolized youth, of whose heart and mind the world itself had
even grander and finer things to say than she herself had ever lavished
upon him. And this woman, and this idol of a man were spouses--and he
happiest of spouses too!
What must her portion be now?
She must be the dumb witness of that very bliss which she pictured to
herself so vividly. Every day she must see the happy face of her friend,
and listen to the sweet secrets of her rapture. She must listen while
_his_ name is magnified by another; she must look upon the majestic
countenance of the youth whom she may not worship--nay, she must not
even dare to speak of him, lest her blushes and the tremor of her voice
should betray what no man must ever know!
How happy she would have been now, had she never learnt to know this
passion, if she had never allowed her soul to fly away after
unattainable desires! If only she had listened to that honest old woman
she would now be sitting at home in her quiet peaceful cottage among the
meadows, with nothing to think of but her flowers!
That was all, all over now!
She was no longer able to go either backwards or forwards. Only to live
on, live on, one day after another, and, as every day came round, to
sigh, as she got up to face it: "Yet another day!"
But her husband, that good old fellow, what of him?
Only now did Kárpáthy feel how much he loved his wife! Perhaps if she
had died he would not have survived her. Sometimes the doctors would
allow him to see his wife, and at such times he would stand with
streaming eyes at the foot of the sick woman's bed, kissing her hand,
and weeping like a child. At last his wife was out of danger. On her
departure, Lady Szentirmay impressed upon Kárpáthy the necessity of
taking great care of Fanny, of not letting her get up too soon and take
cold, of rigorously carrying out the doctor's directions, of not letting
her read too long at a time, of allowing her, in a week's time or so, to
go out for a drive, if the weather was fine, and she was well wrapped
up, and much more to the same effect. Women understand these things so
much better than men.
Kárpáthy called down endless blessings on the head of his kind neighbour
as he bade her adieu, and promised to come and see her as soon as
possible.
"It is now your turn to come and see us," said she. "In a month's time,
I hope Fanny will be able to redeem the promise she made to come and see
me and my husband at home. I don't think, however, that I'll say
good-bye to her now, for fear of disturbing her; it will be better if
you will tell her of my departure."
Armed with this commission, and ascertaining first of all from Teresa
that Fanny was now awake, and might be seen without harm, he stole
softly to her room on the tips of his toes, went up to the bed, gently
smoothed down her hair, took her hand in his, and asked how she was.
"Quite well," replied the invalid, and she tried to smile.
The smile was but a poor success, but it did Squire John good to see the
attempt, at any rate.
"Lady Szentirmay sends her love; she has just gone."
Fanny made no reply to this, but she drew his hand across her forehead,
as if she wished to drive from thence the thought which arose within it.
Kárpáthy fancied that his hand was cooling, perhaps, to the poor hot
forehead, so he pressed it tenderly.
Then Fanny seized his hand with both her own, and drew it to her lips.
How happy Kárpáthy felt at that moment! He turned aside for a moment,
lest she should see the tears in his eyes.
Fanny fancied he would have gone away, and drew him still closer to
her.
"Don't go away," she said--"stay here; let us talk!"
"You see," continued she, "that I am quite myself again now. In a short
time I shall be able to get up. Don't be angry with me if I ask you to
do me a favour?"
"Ask not one favour, but a thousand favours!" cried Kárpáthy, rejoicing
that his wife asked anything of him at all.
"Are you not getting ready a new mansion at Pest?" asked Fanny.
"You wish to live there, perhaps?" cried Kárpáthy, hastening to
anticipate his wife's wishes. "You can take possession of it at a
moment's notice, and, if you don't like it, and want something more
handsome, I'll have another built for you this winter."
"Thanks, but I shall be quite satisfied with the one at Pest. I have
been thinking to myself what an entirely new life we'll begin to live
there together."
"Yes, indeed; we will have lots of company, and of the
merriest,--splendid parties----"
"I did not mean that. I am thinking of serious things, of charitable
objects. Oh! we who are rich have so many obligations towards the
suffering, towards the community, towards humanity."
Poor woman! how she would have escaped from her own burning heart amidst
coldly sublime ideas!
"As you please. Seek your joy, then, in drying the eyes of the tearful.
Be happy in the blessings which Gratitude will shower upon your name."
"Then you promise me this?"
"I am happy in being able to do anything that pleases you."
"Nay, be not too indulgent. I warn you that will only make me more
exacting."
"Speak, speak! would that there were no end to your wishes! Believe me,
only then am I unhappy, when I see that nothing delights you, when you
are sorrowful, when there's nothing you feel a liking for--then, indeed,
I am very, very unhappy! Would you like to go to a watering-place this
summer? Where would you like to go? Command me, where would you feel
most happy?"
Fanny began reflecting. Whither away? Anywhere, if it only were far
enough! Away from the neighbourhood of the Szentirmays, and never come
back again!
"Mehadia, I think, would be the nicest place. That is far enough away
anyhow," thought she.
"I'll engage for you beforehand the best quarters procurable for the
coming summer: it really is a very pleasant place."
"And I have something else to ask."
Kárpáthy could scarce contain himself for joy.
"But it is a greater and more serious wish than all the rest."
"All the better. What is it?"
"I should like you to come with me everywhere, and to be with me always,
and never leave me."
Ah, this was more than a human heart could bear! The foolish old man
went down on his knees beside the bed of his wife, and covered her hands
with his tears and kisses.
"How have I deserved this happiness, this goodness from you!" he cried.
The lady smiled sadly, and for a long, long time she did not release her
husband's hand from her own. Kárpáthy spent half the day by her bedside
in gentle prattle, listening to the modest wishes of his dear sick
little wife, and happy beyond expression at being allowed to give her
her tonics from time to time.
A few days afterwards Fanny was able to leave her bed, and, leaning
against her husband's shoulder, walked up and down the room. Day by day
her health returned, and she grew more and more like her old self. And
then she would spend whole days with her husband, and bring her
embroidery or her book into his room; or she would invite him into her
room, when she played the piano; or would drive about with him, in fact,
she never left him. She did not wish for any other society. She directed
the servants that if any of her old visitors came to see her, they were
to be told she was not feeling well, and all the time she would be
sitting inside with her husband, and forcing herself to make him happy
and load him with joy.
During these days she had very little to do even with Teresa, and very
shortly her worthy kinswoman took her leave. Fanny parted from her
without tears or sorrow, yet Teresa saw into her soul. When she had
kissed the silent lips, and was sitting in the carriage on her way home,
she sighed involuntarily, "Poor girl! poor girl!"