The next morning the doctor removed his goods and chattels to “The Five
Gables,” and took an office on the principal street, getting his meals
wherever hunger overtook him. He knew that he was welcome to stay at
“The Gables” forever if he liked, but he did not care to. He was
conscious of his own strength. He knew that he could live in the same
house with Victoria and never tell her of his love, but in some way she
might discover it, and then all intercourse, however Platonic, would be
at an end between them. She would despise him for a false friend. She
could never be made to see his love in the same light with which he
received it, so it were best that he should go to “The Gables” as little
as possible.
Victoria enjoyed hugely the widow’s proposal, and insisted upon his
telling it to Andrew. Perhaps it might rouse him from the strange,
almost comatose state which had seemed to hold him since he had regained
his senses. To lie and dream with his eyes wide open, following Victoria
as she moved about the room, was all he had cared to do. He did not
often speak, and Victoria grew alarmed at this lethargy, which was so
foreign to his nature; so the doctor, one day, at Victoria’s bidding,
sat down beside the bed and told Andrew of his recent adventure, making
it as ridiculous as possible, thereby trying to win from his patient a
hearty laugh, but Andrew only smiled dreamily, and watched Victoria as
she arranged some flowers in a vase, and placed them near his bedside.
“She is the fairest flower of them all,” the doctor heard him murmur.
“There is not one to compare with her. No, not one.”
The physician saw that Andrew’s mind had not been on the story he had
just related. In all probability he had not heard a word of it, and the
doctor formed a resolution which he immediately put into execution. He
asked, abruptly, keeping his eye on the invalid’s face: “Have you
thought what the future has in store for you, Andrew?”
The deep-sunken eyes turned inquiringly upon the doctor.
“The future, the future,” he repeated, “What have I to do with the
future? There is no future for me.”
“Then you do not care what becomes of you? You are not desirous of
living?”
For the first time Andrew evinced some interest, and there was a flash
of the old imperiousness in his manner as he replied: “Who would wish to
live if they knew a prison cell stood waiting to receive them? Ask a
bird which is suddenly caught and caged after having been free all its
life; ask it if it chooses freedom with death as a penalty, or long life
behind prison bars, though gilded? It will soon answer by beating its
little life out against the cruel wires which cage it.”
He stopped and caught his breath with almost a sob. Victoria turned
surprised to hear his voice which rang out strong and almost as firm as
of old.
“Then you acknowledge your crime, and are willing to suffer the
penalty?” asked the doctor bending forward.
Andrew’s eyes sought Victoria as if he were seeking strength. “No
punishment which man can inflict will exceed that which God has already
given. Victoria and the child are lost to me forever, and it is just. My
angel who is so pure, so spotless, will return to the man she loves.
What matters the tortures inflicted upon this body by a cruel world, I
shall not heed them. The heart only can feel, and my heart is gone from
me, gone into the keeping of my angel where it will be safe from all
sin. Everything she touches becomes pure, you know.”
Victoria was weeping. She could not listen unmoved to the words which
told of the complete change in this man’s nature. He was willing to
resign both her and Mary without a struggle, knowing the prior right of
the man up stairs. Although he was little better than an imbecile. She
knew he loved her still; that their separation would be his death blow;
that he could not live without her. She crossed the room rapidly, and
knelt beside the bed taking Andrew’s wondering face in her hands and
kissing it passionately. “I love but you, my darling. You have sinned
against me grievously, but I condone everything, everything, you sinned
through love of me. Much can be forgiven you, because you have loved
much.”
Andrew’s face was a study. The glad tidings that at last Victoria loved
him with a passion equal to his own came like a shock to him. He was
stunned, bewildered, and allowed her to caress him without giving any in
return. To him there could come no greater joy than this. She loved him,
and her love had withstood the knowledge of his crimes. With a cry he
raised his arms and drew her to him as well as his feeble strength would
permit. He forgot but that she was in reality his wife, and pressed his
lips to hers in a long caress which seemed to draw her very soul from
her body.
The doctor softly left the room. Their confidences were not for
stranger’s ears, and at this moment he felt a stranger. He realized that
he had no part or parcel with the two whom he had left. He felt no
jealousy toward Andrew because of the love Victoria bore him. Only a
sorrow that all this trouble and heartache must come to the woman whom
he would have shielded from every care if God had so willed it, and for
her sake he would also have shielded Andrew. He saw nothing wrong in
this love which each bore the other. For years they had lived in close
companionship. The holiest relation had been sanctified by a precious
gift from God, little Mary. True the world would not look upon Andrew’s
faults and crimes through eyes of love. There would be nothing but
gravest censure and perhaps a prison cell for him. And what a life for
Victoria tenderly reared and nurtured. Her sensitive nature would soon
droop and die under the world’s cruel darts leveled at her and the
child, for what person would believe but that she had been cognizant of
the gabled room, and its imbecile occupant all these years? And little
Mary, upon whose innocent head must fall her father’s sin, and who in
time would be the greatest sufferer? Was it necessary to bawl from the
housetops that the heir to “The Five Gables” still lived, and that a
stain rested upon Mary’s fair name? No, the doctor thought not. If Roger
had even one symptom of returning reason, then it would be a crime to
conceal his existence, but he would never recover. The doctor had
thoroughly examined him and found the brain was irreparably injured,
probably in the railway accident in which as every one supposed he had
lost his life. He might live for years, but his mental condition would
remain unchanged. Then why reveal what would affect the lives of so many
beings when concealment would harm nobody.
The doctor pondered long over this knotty problem. He went over and over
again every little detail bearing upon the matter, and finally concluded
to give his advice, if asked, and Victoria should decide as she saw fit.
Meanwhile, the first ecstacy over, Andrew, with his face still pressed
against Victoria’s, said: “What happiness is mine, dear one! With the
sweet knowledge of your love to strengthen me, I can battle with the
world. What matters it though every hand be against me, if my Victoria
is for me?”
She did not answer him. She was content to lie with her arms about him,
her cheek resting upon his. To hear his voice, weak, but, oh, so dear,
speaking to her in accents of deepest love, was peace to her tired
heart—such peace as she had never known.
Presently he spoke again. “How long have I been ill, Victoria?”
“Do not ask me,” she answered. “I have taken no note of the flight of
time. To me it has seemed an eternity. I have prayed that you might die,
and God, in His great goodness and mercy heeded not my sinful prayer,
but stayed His hand, and gave you back to me from the very portals of
the grave.”
“Why did you pray for my death, Victoria?”
“So that you might be released from all responsibility attending your
wrong-doing. So that Mary might have been shielded from disgrace. So
that I, too, might die with you, for I could not have lived without you.
My love for you has grown until it is stronger than Death; stronger than
prison bars, even. It shall compass you round and protect you from all
danger.”
He raised his hand and laid it upon her head caressingly. How her words
revealed her innermost soul to him! Once he would have risked his life
to hear her utter these sweet words which now she lavished upon him with
frank abandonment, and which were characteristic of a true woman’s
nature, which, when once she loves, flings prudence to the winds and
gives to the object of her adoration the best of her life. So it was
with Victoria. Her love had been of slow growth, and, perhaps might
never have been revealed to her in its entirety but for the sickness of
Andrew. No other thoughts filled her heart but that of sacrificing
herself for him and of sparing him every annoyance.
As Andrew caressed her hair, running his fingers through the little
curls which clustered about her forehead, she felt a drowsiness steal
over her, an exquisite languor which quieted her nerves, and soon threw
her into a restful sleep. Andrew watched her with convicting emotions.
The knowledge of her love for him had come to him with such suddenness
as almost to overwhelm him. He had schooled himself to the belief that
Victoria still loved Roger; that she would evince a just hatred for
himself when he should have sufficiently recovered, and that a felon’s
cell awaited him, where he would be shut away forever from the sight of
his child. Contrary to his imaginings, she had showered the tenderest
caresses upon him, and had told him that she would never leave him, but
would follow him to a prison cell if need be. All this was very
delightful to Andrew, but, nevertheless, he saw his duty as plainly now
as he had seen it at first. Although his body had been weak since his
recovery, his brain had been all the more active and God had pointed out
his duty in a way he could not fail to see. Restitution, although coming
late, must be made to the poor imbecile who had been so greatly wronged.
Sweet as he knew Victoria’s love promised to be for himself, she must
return to Roger though it broke her heart, while he gave himself up to
the authorities, to be dealt with as they should determine. The more
harsh their treatment, the better it would suit him.
Victoria stirred uneasily, and threw her hand over Andrew so that it
rested upon his mouth. He kissed it sorrowfully, reverently, as though
in that kiss he was relinquishing his every hope; and as she opened her
eyes, he closed his own and feigned sleep. She called his name softly,
but he made no motion, and, thinking him asleep, she quietly arose and
left the room.