CHAPTER XXII.

We now behold Angelo ruined, and unnoticed by his worldly friends,

pillaged and deserted by an abandoned mistress, forsaken even by the

child he loved, forgotten and shunned in his adversity by all, save

Gabrielle, by all save her whom in his prosperity he had insulted,

injured, and betrayed. She, and she alone, was his firm sheet anchor in

the storm; his friend, his comforter, she accompanied him to a wretched

abode, far, far different indeed to those he had been accustomed to, an

abode, such as would have excited the contempt of ephemeral friends,

and which none would have entered who loved him not for himself alone.

Gabrielle entered it, and smiled like his guardian angel upon the

desolate walls; her smile was a ray of light through his bosom, it

revealed at once comfort and despair, for it showed him to himself

unworthy of the bliss of calling such a creature his!

Yet in justice to the superior soul of Gabrielle be it said, that all

benignant as she was, the compassion which she showed towards Angelo was

no longer in any degree the effect of an idolatrous love, neither could

former duties longer influence her, but it sprang from a native and

transcendent generosity; tender, forbearing and patient as she was, she

possessed a proud mind.

The primary source of her endurance in unparalleled suffering, was not

in a mean, selfish, or ignoble passion, which crouched most abject

beneath ill treatment, and which no indignities, no cruelty could alter;

not in such source did it originate, but in her duty to her children; to

bear and forbear, for _them_, she deemed not disgrace, but glorious

martyrdom! Fatal and unforeseen events had exonerated her from this

sacred and painful duty, fraught throughout with bitterness and severest

trial.

Firm and unshrinking she had bared her bosom to the darts levelled

against it; now she beheld him who had loaded her with remorse and

anguish, beheld him distressed, agonized, humbled to the dust. It was

not surely in the most abject nature still to love! it could belong only

to the most noble still to pity! Such was Gabrielle’s, she could

cherish neither hate nor revenge against him she had loved once, neither

could she still love when her firm mind had received conviction that the

object was at heart unworthy--but this precluded not pity, and she felt

it a duty incumbent on her to perform from that, all that the

profoundest and most invincible love could have dictated. Exalted was

the soul of Gabrielle, and beautiful her religion, which taught her

charity towards every one’s errors but her own.

Thus then the unhappy Angelo received from her unwearied attention; she

sought as much as possible to detach his mind from dwelling on his

situation, and exerted herself to cheer and to soothe him by such

reasoning as was suggested by the divine influence of fervent piety,

that looks not with a vain sorrow upon the afflictions of this life,

but extracts from them the sacred hope of future _better_ existence, for

which _sorrow_ best purifies the soul!

All was however vain: Angelo possessed not the towering mind of his

comforter, he could not rise superior to the influence of situation, he

felt himself a wretch within and without, surrounding circumstances

filled him with dismay, and his conscience loaded him with reproach.

Nature by degrees became overpowered, he sunk into an alarming malady,

and incapable of opposing by energy or reason that useless regret and

ceaseless repining which aggravated his disorder, he was compelled to

resort to his bed, from whence never more he expected to arise. Mean

time Gabrielle, who laboured under a malady far more dangerous than

that of Angelo, the malady of the _heart_, who had been for long

supported by her energies alone, now found it necessary doubly to exert

herself, and to become the nurse and attendant of Angelo, as she was his

only stay and hope.

It was requisite however to call in medical aid, and this, together with

the additional expences incurred by his illness, began to shew the

alarming probability that such calls might ensue as she would be

unprepared to answer.

During the desertion of Angelo her expenditure, never prodigal, had been

considerably abridged; it was owing to this circumstance that she had

been hitherto enabled to compass the difficulties that had occurred, and

to assist Angelo when he no longer possessed resources for himself. Her

rational and anticipating mind, had not failed to suggest to her, that

in order to preserve themselves from future dreadful embarrassment, it

would be necessary that some plan should be resorted to, to prolong

their present trifling means of subsistence.

The whole treasure they mutually possessed were the jewels of Gabrielle,

and a small sum in specie. These of themselves could not long suffice,

and hence the necessity conceived by Gabrielle of concerting some plan

for future support, ere the present means should be entirely exhausted.

The illness of Angelo, however, deranged and frustrated her intentions;

already she had found it requisite to part with a few of her most

inconsiderable ornaments; and learning from the physician she had

employed for him, that he conceived him in a state which would render

it prudent to call in other advice, she perceived there would exist an

inevitable occasion for parting immediately with the most valuable ones.

The recovery of Angelo being a primary object, she determined that every

consideration should yield to it, whether of calculating prudence or

otherwise. As soon therefore as the physician who, after visiting him

declared his opinion to Gabrielle, had departed, she returned into the

chamber of Angelo, and approached his bedside.

With that eager anxiety, which in sickness is naturally manifested

towards one whom experience has proved to be the only earthly being

interested in their welfare, Angelo, soon as he saw her, stretched forth

his feverish hands, and in a faint voice exclaimed, “Oh, Gabrielle,

tell me, am I to live or die?”

“Live, assuredly,” she replied with a celestial smile, and tenderly

taking his hand. The indisposition of Angelo was chiefly occasioned by

the indulgence of a useless and consuming grief, which he had neither

fortitude nor energy to repel, rather than any real bodily ailment. It

was a strong affection of the nervous system, accompanied by deep

depression of spirits and extreme irritability, which rendered his

malady more alarming than dangerous.

Frequently trifles would overcome him so much that he would burst into

tears; thus the feebleness of his mind increased his physical debility,

and rendered him incapable of the smallest exertion.

Now that he beheld Gabrielle standing beside him, and looking upon him

with that tender benignant countenance, he was suddenly struck with the

remembrance of the evils he had brought upon her, and could not avoid

contrasting his conduct with the generosity and magnanimity of her’s

toward him; the impression was too strong for his disorganized feelings,

tears rushed to his eyes, and incapable of restraining his emotion, he

sobbed aloud. Gabrielle, infinitely affected, sat beside him, and

endeavoured her utmost to sooth: by degrees she succeeded, and when she

observed him calm, she said, “Angelo, it will be requisite that for a

short time I should leave you; will you promise me that you will

endeavour to sleep? I shall then have the satisfaction of knowing that

you will not want any thing during my absence.”

“What, are _you_ going to desert me too at last?” cried he, in a

mournful voice.

“But I will return immediately; will you not trust me, Angelo?”

“And if I should die in your absence, who will care for the wretched

Angelo? who will visit his cold corpse?--no one, no. Ah! who would ever

have thought such could have been my fate?” At this he shed bitter

though silent tears, while Gabrielle almost wept to perceive such

lamentable imbecility of mind; but fearing to increase by joining in

this vain depression, she subdued her emotion, and cried, “Oh, my dear

Angelo, you must conquer these melancholy ideas; believe me it is a

weakness, wholly unworthy you. If you desire that I should not quit you

at present, most certainly I will not; yet if for a few moments you

could permit, I should rather, for sooner or later I must;--I will

procure you an attendant during my absence.”

“An attendant!” exclaimed Angelo, “what! would you leave me to the mercy

of hired wretches?--Oh, my God! let me die at once, if such is to be my

lot.”

Gabrielle, who had arisen, now patiently resumed her seat beside him;

she thought it useless and improper to irritate him by further argument,

and secretly determined that if, as she hoped, he should fall into a

slumber, she would seize that opportunity of escaping to dispose of her

jewels, and return home with all the speed in her power. Angelo remained

silent for a considerable time; Gabrielle flattered herself he was

asleep, and to ascertain, she made a gentle movement to rise.

Immediately Angelo with a violent start drew the curtains aside; his

face was pale as death, over which his dark hair hanging dishevelled,

gave him an air of wildness.

“Gabrielle! for God’s sake do not leave me yet,” he cried; “I think I

shall be better in a little time, and able to bear your absence; but

will you not inform me where you are so desirous of going?”

From the air of alarm visible in his countenance, the idea now first

struck Gabrielle that he really apprehended she intended if possible to

escape from him, and desert him. Feeling for the horror with which such

an idea must impress his weakened mind, and anxious that for a moment

even he should not continue to indulge it, she decided rather to

acknowledge to him the real object of her mission abroad, though under

other circumstances she would infinitely have preferred the concealment

of it, lest it should give to his heart a pang she could spare him.

Looking at him with a smile therefore, she said, “Since you are so

desirous of knowing my motive, I will not disguise it from you, and then

I hope you will have no further hesitation at parting with me for a few

moments. I have some jewels, which are altogether useless to me, in our

present state--my object is to dispose of them, as--as I have occasion

for money.”

Angelo with a sudden spring raised his weak frame in the bed; he fixed

his eyes upon Gabrielle with a wild stare, his features were convulsed,

and in a faltering voice he said, “What--what jewels do you mean?”

“I will shew them to you,” answered Gabrielle, wishing to divert his

emotion, which she attributed solely to the sad necessity she had

inferred of parting with her jewels, and rising, she approached a small

trunk in the room, from which she took those she had intended to dispose

of, and brought them to Angelo. The instant he cast his eyes upon them

he uttered a groan of anguish, his lips quivered, he clasped his hands

together, and sinking back, he faintly murmured “They are false!--they

are false!”

“False!” cried Gabrielle, who beheld with horror, if Angelo spoke

reason, her best hopes destroyed; “False, said you?”

“Oh! yes, yes,” groaned the agonised Angelo, “_I robbed_ you of yours,

and placed those in their stead! I----” Overcome by his terrible

feelings, he made a frenzied attempt to spring from the bed, and cast

himself upon the floors the feeble strength of Gabrielle opposed itself

to his, she with difficulty retained him in bed, and in a state of

insensibility his beating head fell heavy upon the pillow.

Alone, unaided, Gabrielle applied herself to his restoration; by degrees

he recovered from apparent death, but it was only to vent in delirium

his weakened powers; he raved aloud--he inflicted blows upon his

shattered frame; and the overpowered Gabrielle, finding it longer

impossible to cope with him, beheld herself under the painful necessity

of calling in other aid; and absolutely exhausted, Angelo at length

fell into a sleep, deep and profound as the sleep of the tomb.

Gabrielle seized that opportunity of leaving the room for a moment, and

without quitting the house, found she could procure for him an

attendant, one of those persons who, in offering their services for the

sick, have no other idea than of the emolument to be thus derived, and

whose sources of livelihood are in the misfortunes, sickness, and

distress of others. This being, Gabrielle was however glad upon any

terms to hire, and every step she took convinced her more and more of

the necessity there existed of obtaining some speedy means of compassing

her encreased expences.

As the mind of Angelo could not at this juncture be considered in a

state of sanity, the introduction of a stranger into his apartment

could excite no unpleasant feelings.

With a heavy heart, Gabrielle then proceeded to gather together such

other ornaments as she still possessed, and made a selection from them

of those she considered most valuable, and capable of supplying present

exigencies. Reluctantly then resigning to the care of the attendant the

still sleeping Angelo, she hastily departed to dispose of them the best

she could.

Unfortunately for her, however, she discovered that the worst possible

period of attempting to obtain money, is precisely that in which it is

most needed. Those to whom she applied, easily perceived, that though

she wished to obtain for her jewels the utmost that she could, in

default of obtaining what she wished, she must of necessity take what

she could procure; this was enough, the extremity so dreadful for her,

was their harvest, and that advantage was unfeelingly reaped from her

distress, which perhaps had not otherwise been thought of; for one half

of the world lives and flourishes by the misfortunes or follies of the

other half. Thus she was compelled to accept a fourth part only of what

she had flattered herself with easily obtaining, and returned to her

chearless home with a heavier heart than she had left it, and her mind

filled with gloomiest forebodings of the future.

At length the physicians who had been called in, either in compassion

for the evident embarrassment of her situation, or under apprehension

that their attendance and advice must ultimately remain unpaid,

informed her that they had ascertained the malady of Angelo to arise

solely from an undue irritation of the nerves, that it was more of the

mind than of the body, consequently irremediable by the art of medicine,

and that they therefore could be of no further service.

Such being the decision of the physicians, Gabrielle was once more

determined to undertake alone the charge and restoration of Angelo; she

dismissed, therefore, the attendant she had temporarily hired, (who in

daily expectation of his death had anticipated from the anguish of

Gabrielle, and her consequent indifference to worldly matters, no

inconsiderable booty, of which she was thus disappointed,) and enacted

herself at once into nurse, physician, and attendant, and by her

judicious management and tender care had soon the happiness of beholding

Angelo in a gradual state of amendment.

He recovered perfectly his reason, and his body being so much

debilitated by sickness, he was no longer subject to paroxysms of

delirium. In a short time he became enabled to quit his bed for several

hours in the course of the day, and ultimately to forsake it altogether.

But this change was not produced by magic, it cost the patient

persevering Gabrielle infinite pain, distress of mind, and the privation

of almost every comfort in existence; her care was unremitting,

indefatigable, she scarcely slept by night, or rested during the day,

and intent on procuring for Angelo every nourishment that might restore

his strength, she almost forgot to take any for herself, and remembered

to do so only, when her failing powers informed her, that in order to

support him, it was necessary she should support herself.

But the time was now arrived when the sufferings of Gabrielle were to

exceed all she had hitherto experienced. Till this period, though want

had gleamed in perspective upon them, and well she knew that it must

approach, if some means of keeping it at a distance were not devised,

still want in perspective, and immediate want, are widely different, for

the one is only imagined, while the other is felt; one excites

apprehension, and the other despair.

Gabrielle had now parted with every article of value she possessed; next

she had parted with all which the most rigid necessity did not compel

her to retain, and now having nothing more left which might be bartered

for subsistence, she with a shudder beheld that the gaunt fiend was

rapidly approaching, and that if exertion were not instantly made to

elude its fell grasp, soon it would overpower them.

Yet it was not for herself that Gabrielle felt or shuddered; to her,

death would have been but a transition from perpetual misery to eternal

peace, she would have hailed it with joy, embraced it with eagerness;

but for the sufferings of another, she had not fortitude to die! all her

anxiety was for Angelo, all her indifference for herself.

As Angelo was however now so much restored both in mind and body, he

would permit her to leave him sometimes, and even with patience endure

her absence. Thus when Gabrielle beheld that their means were so rapidly

decreasing, and that ere long they must completely cease, she one day

quitted him with the resolution of not returning till she had obtained

some mean of certain subsistence, and to shrink from nothing, not in

itself dishonourable, that might enable her yet a little longer to

support with the forsaken Angelo the burthen of existence.

With this purpose therefore settled in her mind, though undecided as to

the mode of pursuing it, she wandered along the populous streets, musing

as she went, unobserved, or if observed, unnoticed; for her air bespoke

unhappiness, and her attire poverty, appearances not calculated

certainly to attract the pleasure-seeking eyes of the world. Who,

indeed, need apprehend officious observation that under _such_

circumstances wanders forth!

Passing a print shop, accidentally she raised her eyes; she beheld in

the window a various assortment of drawings, so placed as to strike the

beholder to the best advantage; involuntarily she stopped, for she had

an exquisite taste in drawing, which the departed Montmorency had

delighted to cherish and improve, and an idea had flashed across her

mind that induced her hastily to approach the window: she inspected the

prints, and a modest sense of her own superior powers in designing and

colouring such subjects as were before her, consisting chiefly of

flowers, caused her pale cheek to mantle with a conscious blush, and

yielding to the sudden impulse which actuated her, timidly she entered

the shop.

The cold money-getting face of the man within damped in an instant her

rising hopes and deranged her ideas. She was aroused however by the

complaisant inquiry of what she desired, and forcing herself by an

effort to overcome the emotion of shame, so naturally felt by a noble

mind when for the first time it beholds itself in the novel situation of

dependance, she faltered out an intimation that she would be happy to be

employed in that branch of his merchandise which consisted in flower

painting. She stopped, and the unusual throbbing of her heart informed

her, that for the first time she had asked _a favour_!

From the obsequious, kind and smiling countenance of the man who sells

his goods, and _receives_ for them money, this person’s changed suddenly

to the proud, consequential, and imposing countenance of the man who

purchases, and _gives_ money; for there is a wide difference with beings

of this description, between the act of receiving even the merest

trifle, and that of giving it; the first still leaves them in the rank

of the person obliged, the latter places them in the important and

unusual light of having conferred a favour.

Of these opposite positions the person whom Gabrielle addressed was

perfectly sensible; he therefore in a careless and familiar tone replied

that he had no objection to oblige her if she was in _distress_, though

he had already more applications than he could attend to, and more hands

than he knew how to employ; he concluded by observing that the

difficulties of the times were great, and that he could not undertake to

promise any great consideration for the very best style of painting.

All this the proud daughter of Montmorency bore, for she felt that her

purpose was good: the difficulty of compassing that which required to be

done, always strung her energies anew; she acceded therefore to the hard

terms and mercenary stipulations of the shopkeeper, with an anguished

smile, and returned home with employment sufficient for several days.

Gabrielle was again in a novel situation, that of labouring for a

livelihood; still she acquitted herself, as hitherto she had done, to

admiration. “Oh! spirit of my father!” would she ejaculate, “could’st

thou look down from thy bright abode, thou would’st not disapprove;

_this_ would not have vexed thy mortal pride to heart-breaking, for in

this there is _no dishonour_!”

As she reflected that had she at this juncture been reduced to absolute

want without the means of procuring even the morrow’s meal, Providence

would thus have assisted her, and warded the horrors of such a day; she

felt her heart glow with gratitude to the throne of beneficence, and

with a pleasure such as for long she had not experienced.

Thus are we ever the creatures of immediate predicament; the

circumstance which at one time to anticipate might have overwhelmed with

despair, proves in its occurrence at another a source of rejoicing;

events take their hue from the moment, and are only good or bad

according to their comparative relations. Who could have imagined that

the talents of Gabrielle, cultivated beneath the tender care and elegant

instructions of her father, would ever have availed her as a mean of

livelihood, or that she should consider herself fortunate in procuring

with difficulty the opportunity of rendering them such? Yet thus it was,

though only a few years back she would have viewed the bare possibility

of present certainty with horror almost staggering belief.

Reaching home, Gabrielle applied with alacrity to her task, and, such is

the divine effect of energy, felt even her mind lightened by such

application, though confessedly for bread, and diverted from the

contemplation of surrounding ills. But Angelo was incapable of

emulating her, incapable even of attempting to do so; he could only gaze

with wonder and admiration, without being animated by a portion of her

heavenly fire; so true it is that great minds only can bear adversity.

Gabrielle, though thus she laboured and exerted herself more for the

benefit of the unhappy imbecile Angelo than for herself, endeavoured,

with her genuine delicacy, to disguise that it was absolutely for

support that she did so; she worked with cheerfulness, and sought rather

to impress upon his mind that it was chiefly for amusement she thus

occupied herself.

She dreaded he should feel that he depended upon her for subsistence,

and her superior soul shrank from weighing him down with such a sense of

obligation, and from a gratitude that, far from pleasing, would have

distressed and shocked her.

But Angelo could not be for ever thus deceived; he beheld the incessant

toil of this noble but unfortunate being; he beheld too that it was for

him she toiled; the sense of his own unworthiness pressed heavy on his

heart, and while it filled him with a profound melancholy, still further

incapacitated him from what he would have considered a fruitless

exertion to cope with or join his efforts to hers.

Often would he gaze upon the downcast, pale, and fading countenance, to

which the gay flower she was painting and decking with all the animation

of nature, formed, as it bloomed beneath her hand, a garish contrast.

Often would he consider that while calling into artificial life by the

magic of her pencil the frailest productions of nature, she was herself

withering fast into real decay, perishing while she bade them bloom.

Often then would he burst involuntarily into a passion of tears, throw

himself at her feet, seize her wan hands, kiss them, and regard her with

an anguish that defied the power of words.

In the mean time, however, the most active exertions could not balance

her expences: as Angelo appeared still declining, she could not resist

the desire of procuring for him every delicacy that she conceived likely

to tempt or allure his sickly appetite, and though she lived upon the

coarsest fare, and would not allow herself even a sufficiency of that,

still daily she found her means becoming more and more inadequate, for

though a miser, she was such to herself alone.

One evening that she was as usual busily employed, she felt a sudden

weakness coming over her, her eyes grew dim, her head giddy, her

trembling fingers relaxed their hold of the pencil, and unable to

conquer the overpowering sensation, she sunk back in her chair.

Angelo, terrified, flew to her assistance; she made an effort, and with

a languid smile entreated him not to be alarmed; scarce had she uttered

the words, ere her heavy head, in which a thousand bells seemed

jingling, dropped upon his shoulder, and her senses fled.

Now was Angelo compelled to exert himself; he took her in his arms and

placed her on the bed, chafed her sunken temples and cold hands, shed

over her torrents of tears, and in bitter anguish accused himself of

having murdered the most angelic being upon earth; but had he known the

true cause of Gabrielle’s indisposition, what then would have been his

sensations, what his self-reproaches? The truth was, that intent as

usual upon Angelo, and regardless of herself, she had expended almost

the whole of the trifling sum she had in the morning obtained, in the

purchase of a delicacy of which she knew Angelo to be extremely fond; it

was however expensive as it was rare, and Gabrielle determined not to

partake of it, that the gratification might be prolonged to Angelo.

Yet how evade his earnest persuasions? The idea suggested itself of

affecting that she had taken refreshment while abroad, and was incapable

of accepting more, though at the same time nothing had been further

from her intentions, as such she would have deemed wanton expenditure,

after having already gone far beyond what her slender means might

authorize; and she promised herself that she should find no

inconvenience in dispensing with an occasional meal, as long as by so

doing she could procure some indulgences for Angelo.

But Gabrielle, neither apprehending, nor respecting the delicacy of her

nature, acted more in conformity to its spirit than to its strength. In

considering only the first, she over rated the last, and from dispensing

in the commencement with one meal less a day, and sensible of no

immediate injury, she next dispensed with two, and ultimately often with

any. This was one of those days on which she had not tasted food, and

had been without from an early hour on the day preceding. She had

walked, exerted herself, added by various efforts to her exhaustion, and

had ventured without allowing herself the smallest refreshment, to

resume, as soon as other cares had been completed, her occupation.

Nature however was no longer capable of enduring such cruel imposition,

and sunk beneath the extraordinary efforts she required from it.

When by degrees she recovered from her swoon, she, became sensible of

the cause that had induced it, and yielded to the entreaties of Angelo

that she would take a little of the wine she had procured for him, which

was one of those luxuries she still persisted in obtaining for him, and

ever as resolutely refused to partake of. For the present however she

consented to relax in a slight degree the severity of her laws against

herself, and, as Angelo supported her in his arms, accepted from his

hand a small portion of the wine, which considerably revived her, and

she became enabled to rise from the bed, but still so much enfeebled as

to be under the necessity of abstaining more reluctantly from her

employment, though she was sufficiently imprudent to hazard the

attempt.

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