A few days now beheld them re-instated in all their former comforts,
such at least as depended upon ease and affluence alone: but while other
subsequent sufferings had diminished in the mind of Angelo the feeling
of deep sorrow for the loss of a son, and then again by an unexpected
deliverance from those sufferings, made him almost forget the evil in
the good, the heart of the sensible Gabrielle fondly yearned after her
children, in anxious conjecture of their fate, and in the eager desire
to behold them ere she died; for sadly she foreboded that if this
period did not soon arrive, speedily must she resign the lingering hope.
And well and truly did she forebode; that tender and susceptible soul
had received a cureless wound, which time might aggravate indeed, but
which it was powerless to heal. Great and terrible, even from early
youth, had been her sufferings, almost unintermitting; one misfortune
had been succeeded by another, and each more dreadful than the last.
Those blows which render some hearts callous from their frequency, had
lacerated her’s beyond recovery; yet it was not that she wanted firmness
to repel, but she had likewise sensibility acutely to feel.
Such, such on a virtuous, delicate, and sensible mind, are the
consequences of early error, deeply, unceasingly, yet unavailingly
deplored.
Now that Angelo was restored to the rank he had formerly held in
society, he determined to renew to Gabrielle the offer of his hand; for
his vices were in consequence of the weakness of his heart, and not of
its depravity--of the insufficiency of his reason to direct him right,
and not of his desire to do ill. He reverted therefore with complacency
to the idea of making Gabrielle his wife, and with that pleasure which
never fails to accompany in a mind not utterly depraved the desire of
retrieving in some degree the faults that have been committed, he felt,
with becoming emotion, how little was this late and insufficient
compliment calculated to recompense in the thousandth part, the conduct
she had pursued towards him.
He seized therefore the earliest opportunity of fulfilling his intention
and in justice to him be it said, with a faltering and confusion
resulting from the consciousness of how much earlier he should have made
the tender of that name and title, she had ever equally as now deserved.
“When I was young and foolish, Gabrielle,” said he, “I knew not your
worth; I outraged, injured, and insulted you: when I became beggared in
fortune as in happiness, I felt a wretch so wholly unworthy of you, that
to have then pressed upon you the offer of my hand, would have merited
that you should reject it with contempt; but now that I am no longer in
adversity, though bettered by the lessons it has taught me, and capable
from the point of view in which it has revealed your excellencies of
appreciating, though not yet equal to your merit, the heavenly treasure
I possess in you; now if you will suffer me by repentance and future
care to expiate in a slight degree my past errors towards you, then,
beloved Gabrielle, will you give me but one more proof of the
superiority of your nature, even in that difficult task, the forgiveness
and oblivion of injury.”
Gabrielle gave her hand to Angelo in token of acquiescence: confused
ideas pressed upon her mind, she wished not to damp his animation, nor
the hope which sparkled in his eyes, fondly bent upon her, by giving
them utterance; therefore looking with kindness on him, she remained
silent, while she admitted without pain to her mind the conviction that
long she should not live to possess by name, what in a superior degree
she had ever been in character.
Angelo was permitted to fix an early day for the ceremony of rendering
Gabrielle his wife; he desired to invite the whole of his friends (so
esteemed) resident in England, to witness what he termed the celebration
of his day of triumph; but from this public display the pride and
delicacy of Gabrielle shrunk repugnant, knowing too well that it would
be considered by others the day of _her_ triumph! It was enough for her
to receive in secret the tardy avowal of her merits; the mortification
of having been so long unappreciated, or deemed unworthy, and of
accepting at length what had been ever due to her, was by her deemed no
proud triumph; to be exhibited before idle witnesses, who could neither
feel nor understand, none either, but the contrary. In secret had been
her sufferings, her injuries, and indignities; of the atonement which it
was proposed to make for them she had her own sentiments, and she
determined that secret too should be her acceptance of it.
The day now drew nigh on which the marriage was fixed to take place.
Gabrielle, still languid, feeble, and becoming daily more exhausted,
reclined upon a couch from morning until night, and on the arrival of
the day, she was so ill as to be incapable of the least exertion.
Angelo with his usual impatience was wild at the idea of being under the
necessity of postponing the ceremony, which Gabrielle no sooner
perceived than in order to tranquillize him, she declared her
determination that no indisposition on her part should retard it.--It
took place accordingly; she received his vows and gave him hers in
return; and Angelo, as he embraced, and hailed her by the name of wife,
experienced a felicity purer and more extatic than ever had been
afforded him by the highest gratification of meretricious passion.
Such is the power of virtue over the heart, that even a long course of
vice will not render us wholly invulnerable to its divine influence; yet
if indeed there be a human being so far sunk in depravity, as to prove
an exception to this remark, lamentable indeed must be his state.
But the performance of a sacred ceremony had no power to call back to
Gabrielle her departed health; it had no more power over her weakened
body than over her towering mind her; fearful malady continued to
increase, and she appeared but as a fair anatomy, the shadow of her
former self. Angelo, who perceived that of all his worldly friendships
Gabrielle had alone remained by him in the hour of adversity, viewed her
at length as she had always merited to be viewed, and could not
contemplate the possibility of losing her, without feelings little short
of distraction.
Now as the prospect of her danger increased, his anguish and his fears
increased likewise; he ransacked the kingdom for advice, he collected
around him a host of doctors: all proved vain; and in despair of the
power of medicine, he yielded with the eagerness of a last hope to the
counsel which directed him to convey her from the dense atmosphere of
the town to the salubrious coast of Devon.
The patient uncomplaining Gabrielle, who took without a murmur the vain
medicines which the terrified solicitude of Angelo pressed upon her, who
listened with a placid and resigned smile to all that was proposed, who
yielded with the softness of an angel to every scheme suggested for her
amusement, or the renovation of her health, acceded without a word of
opposition, and without a thought of hope, to the present entreaty of
Angelo, that she would at least consent to try the effect of a purer
air.
As if he had obtained a certainty of prolonging her life, of restoring
her from wasting sickness to bloomy health, he seized her acquiescence
on the instant, as fearful she should retract, and by the eager
impatience which he evinced in preparing for the journey, if he
distressed and incommoded the enfeebled Gabrielle, he at the same time
conveyed to her mind the reflection that she was now more than ever dear
to him; though why she was so, she wished not to dissipate the pleasing
delusion by inquiring.
In the highest human mind, self-love will a little operate; true, the
conviction could not restore her drooping health, but it spared her the
pang of witnessing in the last stages of her existence a rooted
heart-breaking indifference to her fate.
With Angelo, to decide and to act was the same thing; he immediately
left London, and by easy stages arrived in Devonshire, there hiring a
beautiful cottage which commanded an uninterrupted view of the coast.
In the exhilaration inspired by novelty and change of scene, Angelo,
transferring his vivacity to the idea of Gabrielle, endeavoured to
believe that it arose from beholding in her languid countenance
confirmation of his hopes that her residence on this spot would be
crowned with success; expressing himself to her with his wonted
animation, he exclaimed, gently seizing her in his arms, “Come, my love,
come, recover your bloom! you must--and the brilliancy of those eyes;
smile upon me, and let me see that already you feel yourself growing
better!”
As if in obedience to his wish the pale countenance of Gabrielle became
suffused with a faint hectic blush, and unwilling to damp the animation
of Angelo, she said, “I do, Angelo--- I do feel growing better;” she
smiled too, but her smile was hopeless, and the momentary fire which
sparkled in her eyes, was in the blest anticipation that she would be
better, not in this world but in a future state.
Several weeks she lingered, at the earnest wish of Angelo, in this
lovely abode. It was the close of spring, and if hope of health could be
conveyed to the sick soul bending to the tomb, this was the season to
inspire it; or if life could be breathed into the cold form of death,
this too was the season in which the miracle would have seemed less; but
amidst all this, amidst its mild verdure and budding beauty, the heart
of Gabrielle was incapable of being elated, it was still calm, still
patient and resigned, for she felt that no _second_ spring could it ever
be her lot to behold!
One evening when for the time of year it was uncommonly, but not
oppressively warm, Angelo prevailed on her to sit without the door of
their cottage, and inhale the refreshing breezes from the sea; she as
usual acquiesced, he led her forth, and debility compelled her
immediately to sit upon the rustic bench which had been placed for her
accommodation. She leaned back, and Angelo, with his arm round her
waist, tenderly supported her of whom now he felt almost the full value.
Nothing could be more beautiful than the prospect before them; it was
nature, not in her most fantastic or magnificent attire, but in her
simple, lovely and most interesting garb! she was not as a fierce and
sovereign mistress decked in her robes of state, and awing by her
frowns, but as a gentle maid, wooing and irresistibly winning
admiration by her dimpled smiles. Gradually sloping hills, dales, and
blooming valleys, charmed without confusing the senses, pleased without
fatiguing the eye; before them the green expanded bosom of the sea
seemed swelling in soft acclivity, and as if respectful to the sun beams
glittering upon it, (making it a sheet of liquid radiance,) only gently
smiled, and undulated, sending to the shore at intervals its low rushing
waves, that in hollow murmurs seemed to speak their gratitude.
Gabrielle sat for a while silent, her dim shining eyes fixed on the
prospect before her; mournful, yet not unpleasing ideas crouded on her
mind--she shed a few tears, but they were not tears of anguish.
“Angelo,” cried she at length, “regard the sky.”
“I behold it, my love,” answered Angelo.
“Do you see nothing remarkable in it?”
“Nothing!” Angelo replied, looking at her involuntarily with some
surprise.
“Well then, regard stedfastly,” pursued Gabrielle; “do you remember the
figure of my sainted father? look!” pointing with her finger, “it is
_there_ accurately delineated in the sky! see, there is his majestic
form! the contour of his head, his perfect self! Ah, Angelo, he is in
heaven, he is _behind_ that cloud, and his blest image shines dimly
through it, as through a thin veil! ah! now it fades! it fleets away!
see, Angelo, it is disappearing altogether! Would that my soul could
aspire on that parting sun beam, and reach him ere he goes--He came to
call me hence! to warn me, I know it--I feel it in the new sensation
that rushes through my frame! I am going to be regenerated!” She paused
for a moment, then added in a voice, low yet firm, “Angelo! never more
on this earth shall I behold the glory of the setting sun!”
“My beloved,” cried Angelo turning pale, and half fearful that her
senses were forsaking her, or that her language was ominous of
approaching death, “my beloved, talk not thus, nor let so fair an
evening inspire you with melancholy only--it should chear, it should
exhilarate your spirits, for I am confident from the improvement I
behold in your looks, that it has benefited you; never, never did you
appear more beautiful in my eyes than at this moment!”
Nor was the latter observation of Angelo wholly void of foundation, on
the livid white of her cheek, glowed but not blended with it, a crimson
red, resembling the brightest hue of the damask rose-bud! the gaudy and
deceitful livery in which fell consumption often decks its victims,
misleading with the hope of health, when nearest to the tomb! The bright
red tint which gave to her eyes a delusive brilliancy, causing them to
shine like distant twinkling stars, added to the semblance of beauty,
which Angelo had remarked; but Gabrielle, whose inward feelings taught
her the vanity of looks, mournfully shook her head, and said, “Deceive
not yourself, Angelo, nor cherish vain hopes; endeavour,” she continued
in a deep solemn voice, “endeavour while I have yet strength to touch
upon a subject nearest to my heart, to listen to me with
fortitude:--Promise me, when I am gone that you will spare no pains to
learn the fate of our children!--promise me, that for their sakes, you
will form no other tie, and that being free, and at liberty, you will
employ the time after _my death_, in seeking to discover if still they
live, and _how_! Oh! Angelo, this is a momentous consideration; I cannot
but think that we, to whose unhappy errors they owe that ever they were
ushered into life, _must_ be responsible for their fates at the bar of
heaven! I wish not to grieve, to torture you in my last moments,” for
the countenance of Angelo bore evident symptoms of the acuteness of his
feelings, “but if I speak not now, as I feel it my duty to do, never
more shall I possess the power!
“The only atonement which now we can make for our crime, is to obviate
as much as possible its fatal consequences. Think, Angelo!--Great God!
we have two children, and at this moment as if heaven were determined to
punish us, and show its wrath at the subversion of a _moral duty_--at
this moment we are deprived of both! nay, in utter ignorance of their
destination!--dreadful reflection!--Yet if Heaven, more merciful than
just, should wave in _our_ favour the great cause of _society_ (for in
the grand scale of its wisdom, the few must not be spared in their
errors to the injury of the many) and not punish as we merit, through
us, those innocent victims--if you are allowed life, as I am not, yet to
retrieve the unhappy past--then, I beseech you, give, give your whole
soul with ardour, with enthusiasm to the task! Ransack the universe for
your children, and snatch them from impending fate! Oh! thrice blest
will you be, should you be permitted success! thrice blest will you be,
and happy will you die, if laying your hand upon your heart, and fixing
your eyes on heaven, you can say, ‘_God_, I thank thee, my _children_
suffer not through _me_!--neither at thy tribunal can they accuse me!’”
The voice of Gabrielle, sweetly solemn, sunk in the heart of Angelo, but
it deprived him of hope, and he gazed upon her with tearful eyes. It was
getting dim twilight; to his inspired fancy, she appeared as an embodied
spirit! he dared not even take her hand, such was the sacred awe of his
feelings, and though her words rived him with anguish, he waited in
hallowed silence for what further her aspiring soul should dictate to
her lips!
She resumed: “You are silent, Angelo; I perceive, and I bless heaven for
it, that you are impressed by my words; it is all I wish; I would not
depress your soul, I desire rather to imbue it with energy; nor, if
departed spirits are allowed to look down on this earth, could mine, oh,
Angelo! be half so approving of your grief, as in beholding you in
active prosecution of my _last_ desire!”
“Oh, Gabrielle!” cried Angelo sinking on his knees before her, “beloved
of my soul, talk not thus, I implore you, of your _last_ desire! of
quitting me at this moment, when you are more dear to me, more valued
than at any former period of my past life! Oh! no, I will not promise
aught--I cannot--I shall be bereft of energy if deprived of you! Live,
live! oh, Gabrielle! and to the remotest corner of the earth may you
command me! Inspired by the dear hope of rendering _you_ happy, I should
acquire strength, ardour for any thing! obstacles would but increase my
exertion, and if our children still lived upon the earth, to your eager
arms would I assuredly bring them!”
As he concluded, Gabrielle sank down upon her knees beside him, and
joining his hands together, held them in hers.
“Now swear!” she cried, “now promise, Angelo, that you will faithfully
attend to what I have required of you!--_promise_, or in peace I cannot
die!--till then my soul, reluctant to leave its tenement of clay, will
struggle in agony for mortal life! and e’en when parting hence, will
still be steeped in anguish, unsatisfied, and clogged with remorse at
the bar of heaven!”
“Oh! great God!” cried Angelo, bursting into tears, “you rive my
heartstrings. Look not thus, my beloved!--Yes, I _swear_, I swear.”
“God! I thank thee!” cried Gabrielle, extending her fair arms to heaven,
and looking upwards with a smile of enthusiastic gratitude; then kissing
the forehead of her husband, she added, “Raise me, dear friend, and lead
me into the house.”
Angelo obeyed, but rather carried than led her light emaciated form into
the house; she retired early to bed, and slept with composure during the
night.
On the following morning Angelo entered her chamber; she was sitting up
in her bed, supported by pillows; the sun, through clustering vine and
jessamine, shone brightly into her apartment, and with singular pleasure
was she regarding alternately its chequered beams upon the floor, and
the fair prospect without, while a variety of birds gaily singing and
joining in concert their small melodious throats, seemed striving at
once to inspire her with joy and hope, and to serenade the rising morn!
Poor Gabrielle was gazing with that melancholy anxious look that evinced
her consciousness it was for the _last time_ she did so; and this
feeling, whether inspired by the anticipation of death, or absence, ever
gives an indescribable charm to the most trivial surrounding objects.
Angelo approached her bedside, and tenderly enquired how she felt.
“Well!” replied she, “calm, easy, just as I _wish to feel_!” A pang
struck the heart of Angelo at the peculiar expression of her
countenance, as she uttered this; but endeavouring to conceal his
feelings, he said in a gay tone, “Since you have awakened so early,
Gabrielle, you may as well enjoy the fresh morning breeze.”
“I would with pleasure,” she answered, “but I feel too feeble; and
perhaps if I could, it might be wrong--for it might give me a longing to
inhale it again!”
“A longing that you might easily gratify, my love,” interrupted Angelo.
“No, Angelo! I have seen the sun _rise_--I shall _never_ see it rise
again, nor shall I behold it _set_!” She reclined her head upon the
pillow, and remained silent, while Angelo turned to the window to hide
his gushing tears:--presently, from her gentle and regular breathings,
he believed that she had fallen into a slumber; he gently approached the
bed, and perceiving that her eyes were closed, sat down beside her.
She slept for about an hour, but not composedly; her countenance
frequently changed, her muscles now and then worked with a tremulous
motion, and a cold dew broke out upon her forehead.
Suddenly she started and awoke, as in trepidation and horror! she gazed
with a wild bewildered air around, seeming anxious to collect her
scattered thoughts, and recover from her strange confusion! Angelo,
infinitely alarmed, took her hand; at this she started anew, made an
effort to speak, and gazed on him with a look of patient anguish on
finding she could not! her fingers convulsively grasped his, and now
relaxed their hold--now a thin film gathered over her eyes, and now with
a wild vacancy involuntarily they opened wide! now the colour fled from
her lips, rushed back for a moment, then forsook them altogether! Her
breathing became short and irregular, and the terrified Angelo laying
his hand upon her heart, found its pulsations to tally with it. He
instantly dispatched some attendants for the physician, who daily and
vainly had visited her, and the moments passed in waiting for his
arrival were past in anxious trepidation by Angelo.
Gabrielle remained in the same state; she could not speak, but her fixed
and heavy eyes were turned on him with an expression, such as convinced
him that she knew him well, and had even something that she wished to
say to him.
The physician at length arrived; no sooner did he behold her than,
turning to Angelo, he whispered, “I cannot give you _hope_! her last
moments are approaching.” He drew near the bed-side of Gabrielle, and
raising her head he poured into her mouth a few drops of a restorative
quality. Gabrielle faintly struggled, an effort of nature aided the
effect of the cordial--she rivetted for a few moments her closing eyes
upon Angelo, and made a movement with her head, as if anxious to lay it
on his bosom.
He took her in his arms, her head fell heavy on his breast.--“Angelo!”
she faintly murmured--“a just God visits the death of my father upon
me---- I---- I too am dying---- of a _broken heart_!”
Angelo had not words, he looked on her in anguish too big for speech;
uttering a short convulsive sigh, she grasped his hand, and in
quivering, irregular accents hastily resumed,--“Remember--our
children--remember--your promise!” What more she sought to articulate in
hollow murmurs died away, the damps of death gathered on her brow! cold
and stiff became the hand which Angelo, fevered with agony, still held
in his! the last breath flitted from her livid lips, and her pure soul,
now at liberty to seek a sphere more congenial to it, ascended with it
from earth to heaven!
For many minutes after she had ceased to breathe, Angelo durst not
admit to his mind the terrible truth that she was gone for ever! He
continued gazing on her cold body with a mingled sensation of agony,
despair, and stupefaction!--at length he turned away his eyes, as if to
convince himself that they had deluded him only with a frightful vision,
and that when again he looked upon her, he should behold her breathe!
but as he turned, he encountered the solemn looks of the physician, who,
thinking that he read in the countenance of Angelo something like an
expression of doubt, uttered the slow and dreadful sentence,--“All is
indeed over!”
“No, no! you dare not say it!” wildly raved Angelo, clasping his hands
together,--“no, no! I am not so cursed!--I have not killed the most
angelic being!--Speak! Speak, oh, Gabrielle! say that you live!--that
you _will_ live! God of mercy!” he continued, madly glancing around,
“she will not answer!--oh! she is, she is indeed dead!!--but I will not
survive her--oh! no, by heaven! not an instant!” and rushing toward the
door, with intent to seek some weapon of destruction, he was opposed by
those around, when in the wildest fury he beat his breast, tore off his
hair, and as if determined on death, dashed himself upon the floor,
shrieking forth in bitter cries the name of Gabrielle! Then suddenly
breaking from those who held him, he sprang to the bed, franticly he
embraced the inanimate form, sacredly beautiful in death! he called upon
her in a frenzy of agony, till losing all command over his voice, it
wandered into a latitude of horror scarcely human! His senses failed
him, and the physician conceiving that, exhausted by his violence, he
would be longer unable to resist, desired that he should be immediately
conveyed to bed, and for that purpose was he raised from the body of
Gabrielle.
At this movement his paroxysms returned, he struggled like a maniac, now
crying aloud that he would die beside her, now piteously entreating that
he might be permitted! but nature could endure no more, he became again
overpowered, and sinking into insensibility, was borne from the spot.
END OF VOL. III.
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