The Brand from the Burning.
The formal part of the visit at Doctor Stephen's house was over. Alison
had saluted the doctor and his wife, and exchanged with them the
inevitable polite phrases, questions and answers; but this time he
betrayed no glowing impatience to shorten the interview; he waited
calmly until Atkins ended it, and conducted him to Jane, who although
she knew of his arrival, had remained in her chamber.
Here, too, there was a cold, polite greeting, a few words in relation
to the journey, the arrival, the different places of interest on the
route; then Atkins withdrew. Henry and Jane were left alone.
She again sat opposite him as at that time when he had sued for her
hand; but she was paler than then; she had become so much paler during
this winter, but in this long space, she had regained complete mastery
over herself. Her head was again upright, her features firm and cold,
and her eyes met his with the old glance of defiance. This was not the
bearing of intimidation or submission: Atkins was right; she would dare
one more last conflict.
"_Why this useless struggle?_ I _will not let you go!_"
Perhaps Jane read this thought in his face, for her brow grew dark, and
her lips compressed. These two beings so soon to be united forever,
stood now as hostilely arrayed, the one against the other, as if this
were to be a struggle for life or death. Both knew it, they were equals
in energy, in strength of will, in inflexibility; not a foot's-breadth
would one yield to the other, and now it remained to be proved whose
will was the stronger.
Henry had already arranged his tactics; he enveloped himself wholly in
that cold politeness she had shown at the first greeting.
"I come, Miss Forest," he said, "to demand the fulfilment of a promise
which I received a year ago, and which was repeated to me in this
place. Your time of mourning for young Mr. Forest must now be at an
end, and I must beg you to name the day for our union. Mr. Atkins
wishes exact information so as to arrange all formalities for the
marriage, and I too have various preparations to make for our
departure. We had decided upon the first of next month; but the day and
the hour, as well as the manner of the ceremony, are of course left to
your decision. I await your commands."
Jane sighed deeply. He had entered upon the subject in a masterly way;
he had made all evasion impossible, but still he was not to win the
victory so easily.
"You have my promise, Mr. Alison, it is true, and I am ready to fulfil
it, if, after what has come to your knowledge, you dare demand such a
thing."
Word and glance, alike ineffectual, glided off from the icy
indifference with which Alison had armed himself. He remained perfectly
calm.
"And why should I not dare to demand a hand which was freely promised
me, and would just as freely have been mine, if it had not been for
that--_episode_, which is of very little import in my eyes? Miss Forest
is too precious a treasure to be sacrificed for a mere romantic
infatuation. I, at least, have no mind to make any such sacrifice."
"You forget one thing!"--Jane's voice involuntarily betrayed
the fearful excitement that had taken possession of her whole
being.--"Hitherto, you have had the power to torture me, but from the
moment of our marriage, that power will fall to me. A woman can become
a curse to her husband, if he has taught her to hate where she ought to
love.--Force me to this marriage, and I become such a curse to you!"
But even this threat, so defiantly hurled at him, glanced powerless
from that smooth, icy calm; Henry smiled at this as he had before
smiled at Atkins' words.
"I hardly think we shall continue upon American soil, this romance,
into which German sentimentality has drawn us against our will; the
atmosphere there is not suited to such extravagances, we had better
leave them behind here. I am convinced that Mrs. Alison will as
brilliantly represent my house, and as unconditionally play the first
role in the social circles of our city, as Miss Forest once did. To
enable her to do this, she will find surroundings worthy of her, and a
husband whose name and position will do her honor. Our marriage could
certainly never have become a shepherd's idyl, and it need not become a
tragedy; if you, Miss, have an intention to play a tragic part here,
you will have to do so alone; for myself, I have not the slightest
capability for such roles."
Jane trembled under this irony; she felt that Henry was not accessible
on this side, and she felt also, that he was now making her atone for
the haughty "_I will not_," she had once flung at him. Not in vain had
Atkins warned her against this man, who never forgot nor forgave an
injury even though he appeared so to do. He was now seeking his
revenge, and Jane knew that she could reckon upon no pity; but this
certainty, all at once, gave back her presence of mind. She rose
resolute and cold, and there was an expression of contempt upon her
lips. She must have foreseen the uselessness of this last effort; she
had other, and in her opinion, more infallible weapons at command.
"Before we dwell upon this point," she said, "I beg you listen to a
proposal I am about to make you."
Henry also had risen; he bowed assent.
"You know that since my brother's death, I have become sole heir to my
father's fortune. His will also gives me full, lawful control of all."
"Certainly!" returned Henry, in astonishment, he had no idea where this
would end.
"Well, then, I am ready to make over to you the whole fortune as the
price of my freedom."
Alison started back, he had all at once become pale, and his glance,
with a mysterious, threatening expression, fixed itself full upon her
face.
Jane stepped hastily to her writing-desk, and drew a paper from a
portfolio lying there.
"I have already drawn up the necessary paper; you will see from it that
I keep back nothing except what is in my hands at this moment. It is a
sum sufficient to afford me a support here in Germany, but scarcely
worth mention in comparison with that which will fall to your share.
The legal execution of this may take place any day, whenever you wish;
the transaction naturally remains a secret to all save those
immediately interested. I offer you all I possess; only leave me free!"
She reached him the paper. Silently Alison took it from her hands,
silently he read it through; the paleness of his face grew yet deeper,
and the paper rustled strangely in his hands. At last he laid it
deliberately upon the table, and crossed his arms.
"Before all else, I request you, Miss Forest, to change the tone in
which you see fit to speak to me. One does not meet a man who holds
one's whole future in his hands, with such--contempt."
A hasty flush passed over Jane's face; her voice had unwittingly
betrayed her sentiments as she made this proposal. "I do not see," she
replied, "why we should seek to deceive each other. You won me for my
fortune and hold fast the hand upon which it depends. I would relieve
you from a troublesome appendage to this fortune, and myself from a
hated tie. You are merchant enough to appreciate the advantages of my
offer; and I have lived long enough in America to take into account the
value it will be to you there."
Jane did not dream what a fearful game she was playing at this moment,
and she did not suffer herself to be warned by the low, hissing sound
that again came from Henry's lips, as upon that evening, when he had
listened to her conversation with Walter. His calmness quite deceived
her.
"I doubt it, Miss Jane; your proposal is too German for that. With us,
at home, one does not throw away a million to escape a marriage!
Besides, I scarce believe that you clearly understand what it means for
one like you, reared in the lap of riches, to be really poor!"
Jane proudly lifted her head. "My father was once poor," she said, "and
he thought nothing of sacrificing position and a future, for the joys
of freedom; I give up his riches for like object. I too would be free!"
"Would you really?" Alison fixed his penetrating glance upon her, and
there was a tone of annihilating irony in his voice. "And besides, do
you think that in case of necessity you could live upon a professor's
salary? May I ask if Herr Fernow has a share in this romantic decision?
If not, I advise you not to assume too much from his ideality. The
heroine of his romance was an heiress, and his sentiments might grow
cold if she were suddenly to appear before him poor."
Jane eyes flashed; she forgot all discretion, forgot how fearfully this
man had once already made her atone for an insult; his irony robbed her
of all self-control.
"Do not measure such a nature by your own standard, Mr. Alison! Walter
Fernow is not _your_ equal!" she said.
This was too much! The deep, deadly contempt in her words tore away the
mask under which, hitherto to his own self and to her, he had feigned
indifference. He gnashed his teeth in rage; still he controlled the
storm of passion; but it was only for a few moments.
"Not my equal! You are very honest, Miss Jane. In your eyes, Professor
Fernow has perhaps no equal in the world, and you would never have
dared approach him with the proposal to sell his bride for money. Keep
your indignation to yourself, I see that your whole nature rises in
arms at the very thought. You dared not propose it to him, but you have
to me!" Here the self-mastery ended, and the old, uncontrollable
passion broke forth fearfully from its depths.--"You have dared make
this proposal to _me_! You suppose that I would take part in such an
infamous transaction! You dare treat Henry Alison as if he were an
extortioner, whose word and honor were to be sold for dollars! Jane
Forest, by Heaven you shall answer to me for this insult!"
Jane drew back, she gazed at him in consternation. She had not been
prepared for such a reception of her proposal.
Henry snatched the paper from the table, and furiously tore it in
pieces. "With this wretched bit of paper you would purchase your
freedom, and hurl the money and your contempt after me. Forever and
eternally you have seen in me only the moneyed man. It may be that it
was calculation that led me to you, but you soon enough taught me to
reckon with another factor than the dollar. I have loved you, Jane
loved you to madness, and I loved you only the more ardently the more
coldly you repelled me, up to the moment when that blue-eyed professor
crossed my path, and I learned to hate you both. You know nothing of my
interview with him, only what I have told you myself; you do not dream
what passed between us that night your brother died. Well, then, I
meant to murder him because he denied me the duel. This money lover had
carried his calculations so far that he forgot all, that he risked
life, honor and future, for the sake of one treasure they sought to
wrest from him. Do you now understand, Jane, what you have been to me,
and why I now hold you fast? I know that I have no happiness to expect
from you, that my house will be to me a hell; but I also know that no
power on earth can tear you two asunder unless it is my arm. And my arm
shall do it; let it cost you your whole inheritance, let it cost me my
last dollar, I fling both from me, but he shall not have you!"
He tore the paper into bits and threw the pieces scornfully away; then
he strode excitedly to the window and stared out with face turned away
from her.
Jane stood motionless, horrified, bewildered, by this wild outbreak of
an emotion she had never suspected in Henry. For the first time he
showed her this aspect, and deep in her heart she felt it was the true
one, and she felt also with burning shame the wrong she had done him;
but through it all, this shame and horror, broke softly and faintly a
ray of hope; she knew that the woman is all-powerful when she is
beloved.
Henry felt a light touch on his shoulder; when he turned around, Jane
stood right before him, but the obstinacy and the contempt had vanished
from her manner; she had lowered her head as if conscious of guilt, and
her glance was fixed upon the floor.
"I did you wrong!" she said softly, and almost an entreaty lay in her
tone as she added, "I did not think that you could love."
Henry drew back; there came over him a suspicion of what was before
him, and his brow grew yet more dark, his features yet more hard, his
whole manner expressed grim, icy repulsion.
"Enough of confession!" he said roughly. "I request you once more, Miss
Forest, to name the day of our nuptials. I expect your answer,--expect
it immediately."
Jane yet stood before him with downcast eyes; now she suddenly laid
both hands on his arm.
"Henry."
He trembled, and turned away.
"You have set a cruel choice before me, and fearful was the threat with
which you forced me to silence, him to inaction. His life and my future
now lie in your hands alone, Henry.--Give him back his unfortunate
promise, and me freedom!"
With a violent movement he flung back her hand. "What do you mean by
that tone, Jane? Do you think to compel me with it? Have you gathered
nothing other from my words than that I would now play a magnanimous
role and lead you to his arms? Not a word further, not a single word
more, or--I forget myself!"
The forbiddal sounded wild and threatening enough, but it remained
without effect; Jane was now conscious of her power; she felt no
further fear.
"I no longer offer you my wealth, and all else I have to give, belongs
to another. I can compel nothing from you, purchase nothing from you;
well, then, I now entreat you; Henry, for your own salvation and for
mine, release me from my promise!"
She had fallen on her knees before him, her voice trembled in anguished
entreaty, in soft, moaning supplication, such as he had never before
heard from these lips; the large dark eyes gazed upon him full and
steadily, they were full of burning tears; her whole manner was so
entirely changed, so different from the Jane Forest he had hitherto
known, that for the first time, at this moment, Henry felt what he was
to lose with her.
"_At my feet!_ I might be proud of the triumph did I not know too well
whom I must thank for it! Miss Forest once would sooner have taken upon
herself a whole life full of torture and wretchedness, would sooner
have died even, than allow a word of entreaty to fall from her lips.
But his happiness is at stake, _his_ future, and here she can take a
thousand humiliations upon herself; and even if her pride bled from a
thousand wounds, she could entreat, kneel even--and this she would
never have done for herself.--Would you, Jane?"
This time, Jane remained proof against his irony; she felt only the
infinite bitterness whence it came, felt that through all his grim
resistance, her triumph was fighting its upward way.
"Yes," she said softly, still keeping her eyes fixed upon him.
He bent down to her, and lifted her gently in his arms. Those arms
clasped the slight, delicate form as if they would hold it fast
forever, and with strong, irresistible might he pressed her to his
heart. His face was again distorted by all the tempestuous passion that
had raged through its lineaments on that autumn night; his breast rose
and fell as if in fearful conflict; but it was something nobler than
fury or revenge that now plowed up the very soul of this man; it was a
dumb, torturing sorrow, pulsing through his whole being, and stirring
it to its inmost depths.
Jane saw the conflict, and had no heart to go on with her entreaties.
She felt that a word from her would decide all, and yet she was silent.
Her head sunk unresisting, upon his shoulder, but two heavy tears
rolled slowly from her eyes down upon his hand.
Then suddenly, she felt Henry's lips, hot and burning, against her
forehead; it was a kiss so unlike that first kiss she had received from
him; it burned like a fiery brand upon her forehead. "Farewell!"
vibrated in a half-stifled, yet ardent tone, through his voice. Then he
let her loose from his arms. With this one word, he had freed her,
renounced her forever!--When she glanced up, he had already left the
room.--She was alone.