JEALOUSY.
All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven--
'Tis gone!
Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell!
Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne
To tyrannous hate!----
----Of one, whose hand,
Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away
Richer than all his tribe.--Shakspeare's Othello.
It would seem to have been the plainest duty of Dr. Carollyn to have
asked his wife, at once, how the miniature of his friend chanced to
be in her possession, and to have received from her such explanations
as she had to give, from which he might judge for himself. But when
men are beside themselves with anger, love, jealousy, or any other
mastering passion, they rush away from the simple, straight-forward
dictates of common sense, striking blindly at whatever impedes them.
When he left the house his heart was on fire. He walked distractedly up
one street and down another. No sooner would the vision of his wife,
all purity, rise before him in its matchless beauty, than the memory of
her hesitation, her blushes, and all the suspicious incidents of this
evening would rush before it. A jealousy, before which all previous
developments of it had been like the breath of morning before the
midnight whirlwind, swept through him, leaving every thing joyful in
his nature a prostrate ruin.
Yet he would be calm! He would not misjudge his friend, much less
would he misjudge his own wife! He would be calm--as cool and
dispassionate as if he were a juryman on trial of a stranger. He would
wait, watch, and not in any manner change his usual ways, so as to
excite the surprise of the interested parties. Oh no! he would not
distrust his Annie, until the certainty of her deception made further
trust in her impossible! And with feelings the gall of whose bitterness
proved that he had already prejudged her, he set to himself the task of
spy upon his wife.
It was midnight when he returned from his tramp through the chilly
streets. Annie was sitting up for him, in their chamber, a loose robe
thrown about her, and her bright hair, all unbound, rippling over
her shoulders. His melting heart was hardened again, as he observed
that her writing desk had just been pushed away from her, and that
the locket lay in a half-closed drawer, with a letter she had just
sealed. He had not known of her having any correspondents, aside from
occasional complimentary notes to and from friends in the city. The
face of the envelope lay up, and his lightning glance devoured the
address--Mademoiselle Victoire Gurnell.
"There is no Gurnell of that name," he cried to himself. "Maurice's
sisters are both married, and he has no cousins in this country.
Of course I should know of them. What a flimsy disguise! A secret
correspondence under an assumed name! Was ever man so betrayed?"
"I have been so lonely," said the young wife, closing the drawer with
one hand, as she laid the other on his own. "It's the first evening you
have left me so long; but I presume you and Maurice were talking over
old times--so I excuse you. Why, Leger, your hand is as cold as ice!"
"Your constancy will warm it," he said, with a laugh.
It was a hollow laugh, with a strange ring to it; but the pretty wife
was sleepy, though she would not have owned it possible, and she
did not observe its peculiarity. In ten minutes she was slumbering
peacefully. Her husband had laid himself by her side; as soon as her
regular breathing announced that she was sleeping, he slipped from
the bed. Twice and thrice he paced the room, approaching the little
writing-desk at every turn, and again shrinking away. Never in his life
had Dr. Carollyn done a dishonorable act; yet now he was hesitating
about a deed from which his honor recoiled. The jealousy which mastered
him soon put an end to the mental contest; he softly opened the
unlocked drawer, drew forth the letter, carefully broke the seal, took
out the folded sheet, and read:
"Dear Victoire--Be patient and hopeful. All is going well. You will
soon be the happiest of the happy. I will meet you to-morrow afternoon
at the place we appointed.
"Annie."
He returned the note to the envelope and resealed it with such caution
as to leave no trace of what had occurred to it.
Mrs. Carollyn would certainly have noticed the haggard appearance
of her husband, carefully as he strove to appear well and happy, if
her own mind had not been unusually preoccupied. When they came to
the breakfast-table, she forgot to put sugar in his coffee, and made
several little mistakes about which he should have rallied her, if
they, also, in his mind had not been "trifles light as air," which
were, to him, "confirmation strong as proofs of Holy Writ."
"I've been thinking," she said, as she followed him into the study,
where he usually spent an hour after breakfast before going to his
office, "that it would be pleasant and proper to give a party in honor
of Maurice Gurnell. We expected to give one soon, in return for the
abundance showered upon us, and this appears to me a charming occasion.
What do you say, Leger?"
"I say so too, Annie. Give him a party, by all means!"
"Shall we have it a splendid affair, darling? Do you give me _carte
blanche_? Sit down here, and tell me something of how you would like it
to be, for I'd like to get out my invitations to-day--we ought to have
it as soon as possible."
"I've no time to spend on such matters. There are the sick and dying
waiting for my advice. Arrange your festival as you please. Only have
it as magnificent as it should be--don't fail to have it magnificent!
When the burning building crushes to its fall it always gives out the
brightest blaze of splendor." And he left his paper unread, hurrying
from the house.
"Leger is certainly a little _distrait_ this morning. He's worried to
death with his practice; he doesn't get rest enough. Oh dear, I wish
he were not so good a physician--or else that so many people wouldn't
get sick," and the young wife knitted her fair brow, perplexed to think
people would fall ill in this bright, beautiful world, and wondering
what she should first set on foot to bring affairs out right in the
briefest time.
"If Leger only knew my object in giving this party! But Maurice wishes
to surprise him as well as the rest of the world. I don't wonder they
accuse women of being unable to keep a secret; I'm sure it's hard for
me to keep mine away from my darling. Ah, if he only knew--I've _two_
secrets--but I shan't tell him the dearest one until all this confusion
of the party is over," and with a blush too lovely to have been wasted
in that solitude, she lost herself in a smiling reverie.
"I've been _so_ busy," she cried, as she flew to meet her husband,
as he came home to tea--he had not been in since morning--"and have
accomplished so much! I had the notes all written by four o'clock, with
a lady friend to help me. I sent Stephen out at noon with the first
half of them, and the others are delivered by this time I presume. I
was glad Mr. Gurnell did not come in until that part of the work was
done, as I wished to get them out to-day. He's just gone, five minutes
ago. It's set for Thursday evening--only two days; but I've ordered the
refreshments from Thompson's, and we've nothing to do but arrange the
rooms. Shall we have real flowers?"
"Real flowers? Oh, yes; nothing false about our entertainment--no
mockery of pleasure! I believe in having things what they seem to be;
don't you, Annie St. John? These snow-white lilies and japonicas--they
will be most appropriate."
"Yes, for a bride, they will be," was the innocent answer. "How like
old times it sounded to hear you call me by my maiden name!" guessing
little that he had called her that, because he had denied her the name
he had bestowed upon her.
As she leaned her head against his breast, he smoothed the hair
which glittered beneath his hand. If every separate shining strand
had thrilled him with electric fire, he could not have been more
profoundly moved. He loved this woman--this wife of his--loved her more
desperately than before he doubted her; he could not refrain his hand
from that caress if he had known that she was steeped in falsehood. The
next moment he tore it away, as if the touch of that silken head had
burned him.
"Then you did not go out this afternoon?" he asked, presently.
"No; I was intending to, but I had not time. I sent for Thompson to
come here for my orders."
"It would be better for your health if you went out every day."
He was glad when company came in, after tea. It prevented Annie from
noticing his mood--it freed him from her distracting endearments.
Maurice Gurnell was among the visitors. He staid until the others had
all gone, giving his friend a vivid and eloquent account of what had
befallen him, what he had seen, done and heard in the last year-and-a
half. Dr. Carollyn's manner was always so quiet, that the young man
noticed nothing unusual about him; but when he had nearly exhausted his
resources of foreign gossip, he rose, with a gay laugh.
"You look tired, Leger, and I don't wonder, the way I've rattled on. I
must beg Mrs. Carollyn's pardon for engrossing you so long. It seemed
so pleasant to be talking away at you again. I say talking _at_ him,
Mrs. Carollyn, for I always had to do all the active part of our
conversations."
How easy and graceful was his manner--how free from any appearance of
acting a part! Leger looked at the radiant face, the enchanting smile
of his handsome friend, so bright, so changeful, so fitted to win the
admiration of women, and cursed himself as a dark, severe, repelling
man, whom the fickle sex could find nothing in to really love.
As Maurice gave his hand to Mrs. Carollyn in saying good-night, Leger,
standing apart, and seeming to be arranging a book on the table, was
certain that he heard a whispered sentence, though he could not make
out its import.
We need not dwell minutely upon the two days of intolerable torture
which intervened between this and the evening of the party. Dr.
Carollyn had wrestled with himself, and had almost thrown the demon of
jealousy which was invisibly tearing him. The last few hours he had
enjoyed comparative peace. He could have gone down on his knees and
begged pardon of the wife he had been wronging in his thoughts, when
she came into the study to look for him, to get his opinion of her
dress, and to tell him it was time to take his place beside her in the
front saloon, to receive their guests.
Whether it was because her apparel was really so becoming, or whether
the intensity of his feelings hightened every effect, certain it is
that she had never appeared so beautiful to him--not even on the
wedding-day. She wore a blue velvet dress, with the pearls which had
been his bridal gift. A wreath of matchless japonicas circled the
golden coils of hair at the back of her head, while a few glimmering
ringlets shadowed her cheeks and throat, exquisite in contour and color.
He had reason to remember every minutest detail of dress, looks and
action, for the picture at that moment stamped upon his heart was
destined to glow there during long and desolate years, unobscured by
any more recent impressions. He sprung to his feet and kissed her.
"You admire me, then?" she said, with a happy smile.
"You are looking beautifully, Annie."
The bell rung, and they hurried through the glittering and perfumed
vista of rooms, to take their place at the upper end. For a couple
of hours a stream of gay people poured into the saloons. It was
destined to be a brilliant party; for, in addition to the luxury of
the apartments, the host and hostess were in just that mood which made
their guests most delightful.
"A wife improves Dr. Carollyn. I never saw him so brilliant," remarked
everybody.
When the tide of pleasure was at its hight; when all had arrived and
the music was loudest, the dancers whirling; when the heat and light
had called out the full perfume of the flowers not yet beginning to
wither, a shadow fell upon Dr. Carollyn. His wife had disappeared; so
had Maurice Gurnell, who had been flashing his wit and mirth amidst the
company collected in his honor. Striving to conquer his uneasiness,
Leger waited, while moment after moment rolled away, to him like hours.
"Perhaps they have gone to look at the supper-table;" and unable to
resist his maddening suspicions, but trying to believe that he was not
suspicious, he descended to the supper-room, where the last touches
were being given by skillful servants to the elegant table.
Again he passed through the thronged apartments, through the dancing
saloons, into the conservatory, the little study, out upon a little
balcony, chill with the winter twilight. They were in none of these.
He ascended to the dressing-rooms, passing on until he reached his
wife's chamber--that sacred, secluded room, into which he never entered
unbidden. He paused before the door with an icy heart and hand. He
heard voices--_his_ voice and _hers_ in earnest conversation; he heard
him say:
"And now, Annie, before we go, let me thank you again and again for all
you have done for me."
"Let us hasten," was the low reply, "before Leger misses us. Oh, dear!
he will be so surprised."
The chill left the listening husband, and a hot fever of rage took its
place. Flinging the door wide open, he stepped in.
"Not so surprised, madam, as you may think. I have guessed at your
secret days ago."
Annie was about to make some answer to this; but when she met his eyes,
she grew white and said nothing.
"As for you, Maurice Gurnell, I will not kill so mean a man as you. I
will not even strike so base a thing. Only take _her_ with you, and get
out of my presence forever;" and with a slight, contemptuous gesture
toward his wife, he turned upon his heel.
"Stay!" cried Maurice; "you are mad, Leger. Let us explain;" but he
continued down the hall, till Annie, with a faint cry, sprung to his
side, grasping his arm.
"Leger Carollyn!"
He flung off her hand, and she shrunk back into her chamber; but before
he had reached the turn in the hall which led to the dressing-rooms,
a slight figure, robed in white, with a long vail sweeping about
the floating drapery, sprung before him, seized both his hands, and
commenced talking rapidly in French--so rapidly, that he, not of late
days very familiar with the sounds, hardly understood her, but he was
compelled to hear enough to rivet his attention.
"Ah! you do not understand," she cried, half-laughing, half in tears.
"I am Victoire. Maurice is not a bad man--no, no, you must not call him
so. He is my husband--ah me, this very day. Your sweet, angel wife, she
help us--it was her own good pastor marry us this day. It was your wife
who kept it secret--because, you see, I was in the convent--and I run
away. I run away and came across the sea to wait for Maurice--that is
it, because we love each other so. He was my cousin. Come; your sweet,
pretty wife said we should have a wedding-party, and surprise them all.
Come; we must go down. Ah me! I tremble so, to think of it!"
The pretty creature, all childish animation, pushed him back with
eager gesture, to the chamber he had left in such a tumult. An infant
could have led him, the reaction had left him so unresisting. Maurice
met him at the threshold, saying, gravely:
"I forgive your too hasty words, Leger. It was foolish of me to try to
keep my little plan a secret from you; but I thought the surprise would
be pleasant. In five moments I can tell you all that is now necessary
with regard to Victoire. She is my cousin once removed. Her mother's
family live in Paris. When I went to see them, Victoire was at school
in a convent. Her mother was extremely religious, and, having married
two daughters comfortably, had resolved that this one should enter a
nunnery. She gave me permission to call upon my cousin at the convent.
I did so. Notwithstanding the icy presence of the lady-superior, we
contrived to fall in love with each other. Look at her, Leger, and you
will not wonder! I went back and proposed to my aunt for her daughter's
hand. She rejected the idea. I could not soften her. Of course, the
more I was opposed, the more passionate became my resolution. I
contrived to correspond with Victoire; I laid a plan for her to escape
from the convent, and take passage in the vessel which was to sail the
month before I left. This I did to avert suspicion and pursuit. Of
course if they saw me still in Paris, they would know she had not fled
with me; and if they looked for her in connection with me at all, they
would confine their search to the city. She accomplished her flight
in safety; the captain of the vessel, a friend of mine, took her in
charge. Not wishing to send her to my own family (knowing they would
oppose the match bitterly, and probably return her to her mother), I
bethought me of Annie St. John, the woman of all my acquaintance I most
respected and admired, and I gave Victoire letters to her in which
I begged her to take charge of my poor little blossom and keep our
secret in her own breast until I arrived, and our marriage was safely
consummated. She found the lady married, but she had heard me speak of
you too often not to feel the same confidence in her as before. She
came to your house with her letters, and her poor little lonely heart
frightened and trembling; but she was not willing Mrs. Carollyn should
even tell you her story, which was a little foolish. Mrs. Carollyn
obtained board for her with the same lady in whose family she herself
resided before her marriage, keeping watch and ward over her until I
arrived to relieve her of the charge. She thought it a pretty plan
to give us a wedding-party. With the sanction of her presence and
approval, your pastor married us privately this afternoon. And now we
are ready to face the whole curious, condemnatory, applaudatory and
astonished world, are we not, little girl?" And with a look of tender
fondness Maurice turned to the young creature, shy but happy, clinging
to his arm. "Come, Dr. and Mrs. Carollyn, give us the support of your
countenance through this trying ordeal."
Leger offered his arm to his wife. She did not take it, but walked by
his side, with a strange luster in her pale face--a fixed, resolute
expression, that did not change through the evening. With admirable
dignity she introduced the bride and bridegroom to the surprised
assemblage, his own relatives included.
The supper was a marvel of costly luxury. It was late when the dancers
tired, the music faltered, and the house was gradually left to
solitude. Mr. and Mrs. Gurnell had been previously invited to spend a
week with their hostess, and their chamber awaited them. Mrs. Carollyn
left them at its door with a pleasant good-night.
When the Doctor knocked at his wife's door, his heart drenched in tears
of humble regret, she did not respond to the summons, and he retired to
await the subsiding of her just displeasure.
But when she was summoned to the late breakfast, her room was found
empty. Nothing was disturbed. The blue velvet dress lay on the bed.
A traveling-dress and bonnet was gone from the wardrobe. The casket
of pearls was on the bureau. Of all her wealth she had taken nothing
but a sum of money--amounting to a few hundred dollars, which had
come in from her property--and her wedding-ring. Since she was a
wife, and might possibly some time become a mother, she had kept her
wedding-ring--and, yes, her marriage-certificate. One of the servants
said he had heard the door open and close, very early in the morning,
but he was very sleepy, from having been up so late, and had paid no
attention to it.
And from that time, for weary, heart-withering years, Dr. Carollyn
obtained no clue to the fate of his wife.