RALPH BEGINNETH A CONVERSATION TOTALLY BEYOND HIS COMPREHENSION, AND YET
COMPREHENDETH MORE THAN THE CONVERSATION IS MEANT TO CONVEY--HE FEELETH
SOME INCLINATION TOWARDS LOVE-MAKING, BUT CHECKETH HIMSELF VALIANTLY.
"My own brave Ralph," said she, extending to me both her hands.
"Your schoolboy lover," said I: an immense weight of anxiety removed
from my mind, as I kissed her jewelled fingers.
"Hush, Ralph! such words are vanities--but ask me not why? Oh, my dear
boy, make the most of this visit--"
"I will, I will--how beautiful you are! how very, very beautiful!"
"Am I?--I rejoice to hear you say so! Ralph, speak to me as my own
devoted, my more than loved friend--by all the affection that I have
lavished on you, speak to me truly; do you, dearest Ralph, see no
alteration in me?"
"A little," said I, smiling triumphantly, "a very little, for there was
never room for much--you are a little more beautiful than when I last
beheld you."
"Thank you--you have given me more happiness by the fervent honesty of
that speech than I have experienced for days and weeks, nay, months
before. Stand from me, and let me look at you--you, Ralph, are also
much, very much improved--perhaps there is a little too much cast of
thought upon your brow--that thought is a sad wrinkle maker--but, Ralph,
you are not well dressed. But come and sit by me now, there, on that
low footstool. I always loved to play thus with your pretty curls--I
wish that they were a shade darker; as you have grown so manly, it would
have been as well. Truly, as I look into the ingenuous brightness of
your countenance, the joys of past happy hours seem to wing themselves
back, and whisper to me that word so little understood--Happiness. But,
Ralph, we will be alone together for this day at least--you shall dine
with me here--we will have no interruption--you shall tell me all your
deeds of arms--and, you naughty boy, of love also. Reach that bell, and
ring it--but gently."
I obeyed, and the same handsome young lady, whom I had before seen,
answered the silver summons. She glided in, and stooped over to Mrs
Causand, as she lay on the couch, and their short conference was in
whispers. As she retired, I was rather puzzled by the deep sorrow on
her countenance, and the unfeigned look of pity with which she regarded
her mistress or her friend. When we were again alone, I resumed my low
seat, and was growing rather passionate over one of her beautiful hands,
when, looking down, apparently much pleased with these silly
endearments, she said, "Yes, Ralph, make the most of it; hand and heart,
all, all are yours, for the little space that they will be mine."
Strange and disloyal thoughts began their turmoil in my bosom; and
speculation was busy, and prospects of vanity began to dance before my
eyes. Old enough to be my mother! What then? Mother! the thought
brought with it the black train of ideas of which Daunton was the
demoniac leader. He had asserted that the superb woman before me might
claim from me the affection of a son. I then felt most strongly that I
was not there to play any ridiculous part.
The protestations that I was about to utter died on my lips--I spake
not, but pressed the hand that I held to my heart.
"Now, Ralph," said Mrs Causand, "relate to me all the wonders that you
have encountered--speak lowly"--and she threw a white and very thin
handkerchief over her face.
"But, my dear madam, why may I not gaze upon the countenance that you
know is very dear to me? And this setting sun--how glorious! Do you
know that, at his rising and his setting, I have often thought of you?
Pray come to the window, and look upon it before it is quite hid among
the trees."
"Ralph, by all the love that I bore your mother, by the affection that I
bear to you, do not talk to me of setting suns! I dread to look upon
them. You ask me to rise--oh, son of my best friend--know, that I
cannot--without assistance--without danger--I am on my sick-couch--on my
dying bed--they tell me--me--me, whom you just now so praised for
improved beauty, that my days are numbered--but, I believe them not--
no--no--no--but hush, softly!--I may not agitate myself--you, my sweet
boy, have surely come to me the blessed messenger of health--your finger
shall turn back the hand upon the dial, and years, whole years of
happiness, shall be yours and mine."
"Inscrutable Ruler of heaven!" I exclaimed, "it is impossible! You are
but trying my affection--you do but wish to witness the depth of my
agony--you would prove me--but this is with a torture too cruel. Say--
oh, say--my dear Mrs Causand, that you are trifling with me--you--you
are now the only friend that I have upon earth!"
"These emotions, my dear boy, will slay me outright--the monster is now,
even now, grappling with me--give me your hand." She took it, and
placed it over the region of her heart. The shock it gave me was
electric--that heart trembled beneath her bosom rapidly as flutter the
wings of the dying bird--then paused--then went on. I looked into her
face, and saw again the instant and momentary pallor, that had surprised
me so much on my first entrance. The paroxysm was as short as it was
violent, and her features again returned to their usual placidity of
majestic beauty.
"You know it all now, Ralph--the least motion sets my heart in this
unaccountable fury--and--alas, alas! every attack is more acute than the
last. They tell me that I am dying--I cannot believe it. I cannot even
comprehend it. I have none of the symptoms of death upon me.
Everything around me breathes of health and happiness--you alone were
wanting to complete the scene--you are here--no--no, I will not die.
Had my hair whitened, my form bowed, my complexion withered--why, then--
I might have been reconciled--but, no--it is impossible--no--no--Ralph,
I am _not_ dying."
"Fervently do I pray God that you are not. It also seems to me
impossible--but still, the youngest of us cannot always escape--hoping,
trusting, relying on the best, we should be prepared for the worst."
"But I am not prepared," she exclaimed, with a fierce energy that
breathed defiance; and then, relapsing into a profound melancholy, she
mournfully continued--"and I cannot prepare myself."
"Have you spoken to a clergyman?" said I, not knowing exactly what else
to say. "Is not this some book of divine consolation?"
I took it up; it was the popular novel of the day, entitled, "The Rising
Sun." What a profound mockery for a deathbed!
"I tell you, my dear Ralph, that you must not agitate me. Talk of
anything but my approaching death--for know, that I am resolved _not_ to
die. To-morrow there will be a consultation over my case of the very
first of the medical faculty in the world. Ralph, do not you league
together with the rest of the world, and condemn me to an untimely
death."
"Untimely, indeed."
She had now evidently talked too much; she closed her eyes, and seemed
to enjoy a peaceful and refreshing slumber. I sat by and watched her.
Was I then in a sick-chamber?--was that personification of beauty
doomed? I looked round, and pronounced it incredible. I gazed upon the
recumbent figure before me, so still, so living, and yet so death-like--
and moralised upon the utter deception of appearances.
At length she awoke, apparently much reanimated.
"My dear Ralph," said she, "why are you not in mourning?"
"I understand you--and I perceive that you are now in black. But I must
not disturb you--yet, if I dared, I would ask you one question--oh, in
pity answer it--was she my mother?"
"Does death absolve us from our oaths?"
"I am not, dear lady, casuist enough to answer you that question. But
do you know that I have become a desperate character lately? I write
myself man, and will prove the authenticity of the signature with my
life. I have renounced my profession--every pursuit, every calling,
every thought--that may stand between me and the development of the
mystery of my birth. It is the sole purpose of my life--the whole
devotion of my existence."
"Ralph--a foolish one--just now. Bide the course of events."
"I will not--if I can control them. Through this detestable mystery, I
have been insulted, reviled--a wretch has had the hardihood, the
turpitude, to brand both you and me--me as the base-born child, and you
as the ignominious parent."
"Who, who, who?"
"A pale-faced, handsome, short, smooth-worded villain, with a voice that
I now recognise, for the first time--a coward--a swindler, that calls
himself, undoubtedly among other aliases--"
"Stop, Ralph, in misery!" and, for the first time, she sat upright on
her couch. "The crisis of a whole life is at hand--I must go through
it, if I die on the spot--ring again for Miss Tremayne."
The gentle and quiet lady was soon at Mrs Causand's side. There was a
little whispering passed between them, some medicines put on the small
work-table near the head of the couch, and, finally, a tolerably large
packet of papers. She then cautioned Mrs Causand most emphatically to
keep herself tranquil, and, bowing to me slightly, glided out of the
room.