I think I was as nearly mad as I could be; nearer madness, I believe,
than I shall ever be again, thank God! Three weeks of it had driven me
to the very verge of desperation. I cannot say here what had brought me
to this pass, for I do not know into whose hands these pages may fall;
but I had made up my mind to persist in a certain line of conduct which
I firmly believed to be right, while those who had authority over me,
and were stronger than I was, were resolutely bent upon making me submit
to their will. The conflict had been going on, more or less violently,
for months; now I had come very near the end of it. I felt that I must
either yield or go mad. There was no chance of my dying; I was too
strong for that. There was no other alternative than subjection or
insanity.
It had been raining all the day long, in a ceaseless, driving torrent,
which had kept the streets clear of passengers. I could see nothing but
wet flag-stones, with little pools of water lodging in every hollow, in
which the rain-drops splashed heavily whenever the storm grew more in
earnest. Now and then a tradesman's cart, or a cab, with their drivers
wrapped in mackintoshes, dashed past; and I watched them till they were
out of my sight. It had been the dreariest of days. My eyes had followed
the course of solitary drops rolling down the window-panes, until my
head ached. Toward nightfall I could distinguish a low, wailing tone,
moaning through the air; a quiet prelude to a coming change in the
weather, which was foretold also by little rents in the thick mantle of
cloud, which had shrouded the sky all day. The storm of rain was about
to be succeeded by a storm of wind. Any change would be acceptable to
me.
There was nothing within my room less dreary than without. I was in
London, but in what part of London I did not know. The house was one of
those desirable family residences, advertised in the _Times_ as to be
let furnished, and promising all the comforts and refinements of a home.
It was situated in a highly-respectable, though not altogether
fashionable quarter; as I judged by the gloomy, monotonous rows of
buildings which I could see from my windows: none of which were shops,
but all private dwellings. The people who passed up and down the streets
on line days were all of one stamp, well-to-do persons, who could afford
to wear good and handsome clothes; but who were infinitely less
interesting than the dear, picturesque beggars of Italian towns, or the
sprightly, well-dressed peasantry of French cities. The rooms on the
third floor--my rooms, which I had not been allowed to leave since we
entered the house, three weeks before--were very badly furnished,
indeed, with comfortless, high horse-hair-seated chairs, and a sofa of
the same uncomfortable material, cold and slippery, on which it was
impossible to rest. The carpet was nearly threadbare, and the curtains
of dark-red moreen were very dingy; the mirror over the chimney-piece
seemed to have been made purposely to distort my features, and produce
in me a feeling of depression. My bedroom, which communicated with this
agreeable sitting-room by folding-doors, was still smaller and gloomier;
and opened upon a dismal back-yard, where a dog in a kennel howled
dejectedly from time to time, and rattled his chain, as if to remind me
that I was a prisoner like himself. I had no books, no work, no music.
It was a dreary place to pass a dreary time in; and my only resource was
to pace to and fro--to and fro from one end to another of those wretched
rooms.
I watched the day grow dusk, and then dark. The rifts in the driving
clouds were growing larger, and the edges were torn. I left off roaming
up and down my room, like some entrapped creature, and sank down on the
floor by the window, looking out for the pale, sad blue of the sky which
gleamed now and then through the clouds, till the night had quite set
in. I did not cry, for I am not given to overmuch weeping, and my heart
was too sore to be healed by tears; neither did I tremble, for I held
out my hand and arm to make sure they were steady; but still I felt as
if I were sinking down--down into an awful, profound despondency, from
which I should never rally; it was all over with me. I had nothing
before me but to give up, and own myself overmatched and conquered. I
have a half-remembrance that as I crouched there in the darkness I
sobbed once, and cried under my breath, "God help me!"
A very slight sound grated on my ear, and a fresh thrill of strong,
resentful feeling quivered all through me; it was the hateful click of
the key turning in the lock. It gave me force enough to carry out my
defiance a little longer. Before the door could be opened I sprang to my
feet, and stood erect, and outwardly very calm, gazing through the
window, with my face turned away from the persons who were coming in; I
was so placed that I could see them reflected in the mirror over the
fireplace. A servant came first, carrying in a tray, upon which were a
lamp and my tea--such a meal as might be prepared for a school-girl in
disgrace.
She came up to me, as if to draw down the blinds and close the shutters.
"Leave them," I said; "I will do it myself by-and-by."
"He's not coming home to-night," said a woman's voice behind me, in a
scoffing tone.
I could see her too without turning round. A handsome woman, with bold
black eyes, and a rouged face, which showed coarsely in the ugly
looking-glass. She was extravagantly dressed, and wore a profusion of
ornaments--tawdry ones, mostly, but one or two I recognized as my own.
She was not many years older than myself. I took no notice whatever of
her, or her words, or her presence; but continued to gaze out steadily
at the lamp-lit streets and stormy sky. Her voice grew hoarse with
passion, and I knew well how her face would burn and flush under the
rouge.
"It will be no better for you when he is at home," she said, fiercely.
"He hates you; he swears so a hundred times a day, and he is determined
to break your proud spirit for you. We shall force you to knock under
sooner or later; and I warn you it will be best for you to be sooner
rather than later. What friends have you got anywhere to take your side?
If you'd made friends with me, my fine lady, you'd have found it good
for yourself; but you've chosen to make me your enemy, and I'll make him
your enemy. You know, as well as I do, he can't hear the sight of your
long, puling face."
Still I did not answer by word or sign. I set my teeth together, and
gave no indication that I had heard one of her taunting speeches. My
silence only served to fan her fury.
"Upon my soul, madam," she almost shrieked, "you are enough to drive me
to murder! I could beat you, standing there so dumb, as if I was not
worthy to speak a word to. Ay! and I would, but for him. So, then, three
weeks of this hasn't broken you down yet! but you are only making it the
worse for yourself; we shall try other means to-morrow."
She had no idea how nearly my spirit was broken, for I gave her no
reply. She came up to where I stood, and shook her clinched hand in my
face--a large, well-shaped hand, with bejewelled fingers, that could
have given me a heavy blow. Her face was dark with passion; yet she was
maintaining some control over herself, though with great difficulty. She
had never struck me yet, but I trembled and shrank from her, and was
thankful when she flung herself out of the room, pulling the door
violently after her, and locking it noisily, as if the harsh, jarring
sounds would be more terrifying than the tones of her own voice.
Left to myself I turned round to the light, catching a fresh glimpse of
my face in the mirror--a pale and sadder and more forlorn face than
before. I almost hated myself in that glass. But I was hungry, for I was
young, and my health and appetite were very good; and I sat down to my
plain fare, and ate it heartily. I felt stronger and in better spirits
by the time I had finished the meal; I resolved to brave it out a little
longer. The house was very quiet; for at present there was no one in it
except the woman and the servant who had been up to my room. The servant
was a poor London drudge, who was left in charge by the owners of the
house, and who had been forbidden to speak to me. After a while I heard
her heavy, shambling footsteps coming slowly up the staircase, and
passing my door on her way to the attics above; they sounded louder than
usual, and I turned my head round involuntarily. A thin, fine streak of
light, no thicker than a thread, shone for an instant in the dark corner
of the wall close by the door-post, but it died away almost before I saw
it. My heart stood still for a moment, and then beat like a hammer. I
stole very softly to the door, and discovered that the bolt had slipped
beyond the hoop of the lock; probably in the sharp bang with which it
had been closed. The door was open for me!