CLOUDY.
It was Christmas Eve and a fierce snow-storm was raging.
Old Mr. Willcoxen sat half doubled up in his leather-covered elbow
chair, in the chimney corner of his bedroom, occupied with smoking his
clay pipe, and thinking about his money bags.
Fanny was in the cold, bleak upper rooms of the house, looking out of
the windows upon the wide desolation of winter, the waste of snow, the
bare forest, the cold, dark waters of the bay--listening to the driving
tempest, and singing, full of glee as she always was when the elements
were in an uproar.
Thurston was the sole and surly occupant of the sitting-room, where he
had thrown himself at full length upon the sofa, to lie and yawn over
the newspaper, which he vowed was as stale as last year's almanac.
Suddenly the front door was thrown open, and some one came, followed by
the driving wind and snow, into the hall.
Thurston threw aside his paper, started up, and went out.
What was his surprise to see Cloudesley Mornington standing there, with
a face so haggard, with eyes so wild and despairing, that, in alarm, he
exclaimed:
"Good heaven, Cloudesley. What is the matter? Has anything happened at
home?"
"Home! home! What home? I have no home upon this earth now, and never
shall have!" exclaimed the poor youth, distractedly.
"My dear fellow, never speak so despondently. What is it now? a
difficulty with the commodore?"
"God's judgment light upon him!" cried Cloudy, pushing past and hurrying
up the stairs.
Thurston could not resume his former composure; something in Cloudy's
face had left a feeling of uneasiness in his mind, and the oftener he
recalled the expression the more troubled he became.
Until at length he could bear the anxiety no longer, and quietly leaving
his room, he went up-stairs in search of the youth, and paused before
the boy's door. By the clicking, metallic sounds within, he suspected
him to be engaged in loading a pistol; for what purpose! Not an instant
was to be risked in rapping or questioning.
With one vigorous blow of his heel Thurston burst open the door, and
sprung forward and dashed the fatal weapon from his hand, and then
confronted him, exclaiming:
"Good God, Cloudy! What does this mean?"
Cloudy looked at him wildly for a minute, and when Thurston repeated the
question, he answered with a hollow laugh:
"That I am crazy, I guess! don't you think so?"
"Cloudy, my dear fellow, we have been like brothers all our lives; now
won't you tell me what has brought you to this pass? What troubles you
so much? Perhaps I can aid you in some way. Come, what is it now?"
"And you really don't know what it is? Don't you know that there is a
wedding on hand?"
"A wedding!"
"Aye, man alive! A wedding! They are going to marry the child Jacquelina
to old Grimshaw."
"Oh, yes, I know that; but, my dear boy, what of it? Surely you were
never in love with little Jacko?"
"In love with her! ha! ha! no, not as you understand it! who take it to
be that fantastical passion that may be inspired by the first sight of a
pretty face. No! I am not in love with her, unless I could be in love
with myself. For Lina was my other self. Oh, you who can talk so glibly
of being 'in love,' little know that strength of attachment when two
hearts have grown together from childhood."
"It is like a brother's and a sister's."
"Never! brothers and sisters cannot love so. What brother ever loved a
sister as I have loved Lina from our infancy? What brother ever would
have done and suffered as much for his sister as I have for Lina?"
"You! done and suffered for Lina!" said Thurston, beginning to think he
was really mad.
"Yes! how many faults as a boy I have shouldered for her. How many
floggings I have taken. How many shames I have borne for her, which she
never knew. Oh! how I have spent my night watches at sea, dreaming of
her. For years I have been saving up all my money to buy a pretty
cottage for her and her mother that she loves so well. I meant to have
bought or built one this very year. And after having made the pretty
nest, to have wooed my pretty bird to come and occupy it. I meant to
have been such a good boy to her mother, too! I pleased myself with
fancying how the poor, little timorous woman would rest in so much peace
and confidence in our home--with me and Lina. I have saved so much that
I am richer than any one knows, and I meant to have accomplished all
that this very time of coming home. I hurried home. I reached the house.
I ran in like a wild boy as I was. Her voice called me. I followed its
sound--ran up-stairs to her room. I found her in bed. I thought she was
sick. But she sprang up, and threw herself upon my bosom, and with her
arms clasped about my neck, wept as if her heart would break. And while
I wondered what the matter could be, her mother interfered and told me.
God's judgment light upon them all, I say! Oh! it was worse than murder.
It was a horrid, horrid crime, that has no name because there is none
heinous enough for it. Thurston! I acted like a very brute! God help me,
I was both stunned and maddened, as it seems to me now. For I could not
speak. I tore her little, fragile, clinging arms from off my neck, and
thrust her from me. And here I am. Don't ask me how I loved her! I have
no words to tell you!"