AYLESFORD AND KATE
Helen I love thee; by my life I do:
I swear by that which I will love for thee,
To prove him false that says I love thee not. —Shakespeare.
I cannot love him,
He might have took his answer long ago. —Shakespeare.
I’ll have my bond, I will not hear thee speak.
I’ll have my bond. —Shakespeare.
Though Kate could not think, without aversion, of ratifying the family
contract to marry her cousin, yet she commiserated his disappointment,
and was consequently more tender to his feelings than she would
otherwise have been.
These sentiments had governed her during the interview at the bridge. No
true woman takes pleasure in the suffering of an unfortunate lover. Kate
had, on that occasion, thought more of her cousin’s disappointment
than of Major Gordon. But, when she had reached Sweetwater, and was left
to solitary thought in the privacy of her chamber, she saw that, in
trying to save the feelings of Aylesford, she had hurt those of her
preserver. Her momentary anger at the latter’s coldness gradually
subsided, and when she met him, on the following day, she returned his
bow, as we have seen, with all her old cordiality.
Kate was sitting alone in the parlor, to which we have already
introduced the reader, on Monday morning, when her cousin entered the
apartment. Something in his manner betrayed to her that he sought a
private interview. Her heart began to beat fast.
Aylesford, for a minute or two, did not speak. He walked, in an
embarrassed way, to the window; looked out a moment, glanced at Kate,
and then tattooed on the panes with his fingers; and, finally, turning
abruptly towards her, said—
“How is it, Kate, that you have compromised the family, by permitting
this Major Gordon to visit here so frequently? His rebel commission
surely ought to shut your doors against him.”
Kate’s color, which had been heightened ever since Aylesford entered,
flushed to a still deeper crimson at these words. But, having
determined, while remaining firm to her purpose, to do everything else
to conciliate her cousin, she paused awhile before replying, in order to
command voice and judgment alike.
“I do not see, Charles,” she said, finally, “that I have
compromised the family. Major Gordon, though not a royalist, is a
gentleman, and entitled to the civilities due to all such. In
addition,” she added, with another blush, “he deserves particular
attention at our hands; you yourself must admit this.”
“I don’t admit any such thing,” answered her cousin, nettled alike
by her quiet manner and by her words. “He helped to save your life, I
know; but so would any other person in his place. I myself,” he added,
with an outburst of really natural feeling, “would have given my right
hand to have been there, and risked my life also for you.”
Kate was touched.
“I believe you,” she said, with a voice full of feeling.
To do him justice, Aylesford loved her with all the passion of his illy
regulated nature, and when he heard this reply, and saw Kate’s
emotion, what was good in him awoke responsive to it. He fell upon his
knee, by a sudden impulse, and seizing her hand, said—
“Then why won’t you believe still more, dear Kate? Why won’t you
believe that I am the most sincere and devoted lover ever woman had?
That I have been taught, from my youth up, to look upon you as my future
wife? That all my associations of home and happiness have centred around
you? Oh! Kate,” he cried, as she withdrew her hand and shook her head
sadly, “have pity on me. Don’t let your heart be estranged from your
own blood and kin, merely because a stranger has done that which I would
have died a thousand times to do.”
Kate shook her head again mournfully. “It is not that,” she
faltered.
“Then what is it? I implore you to tell me. By the memory of our
fathers, who loved each other so well, what is it that makes you cold to
me, and to me only?”
Kate had been struggling for composure to reply. Deeply moved, she
said—
“Rise, Charles. This is no attitude for you to assume, nor for me to
allow.”
Her manner was firm, though gentle, and Aylesford rose and stood before
her.
“I cannot listen to such language,” she began. “I must be
truthful, even if I speak words that may seem harsh; and I do not love
you, Charles—”
He clasped his forehead violently with both hands.
“Yet what have I done,” he cried, after a moment, like one beside
himself, “to win this hatred? Oh! never man loved as I love you,
Kate.”
“I do not hate you, Charles,” was Kate’s mild reply. “You are my
cousin, and the last male representative of our family, and therefore
have a double claim on me. I like you as a relative, though I see
much,” she added, hesitatingly, “to condemn. But to be your wife is
impossible. It would bring happiness to neither of us. And knowing that
it would not bring happiness,” she added, in a firmer tone, “it
would be a sin in us to contract it. Otherwise, perhaps,” and here her
voice trembled, “I might have ratified the wishes of our parents;
which, but for this incompatibility between us, I should feel bound to
obey.”
Aylesford, whose angry sense of humiliation had been gradually rising,
was subdued again by these last words, for he thought Kate was
relenting. He, therefore, answered eagerly—
“There is no incompatibility. Or,” for she shook her head, “there
shall be none. Only try me. I will be anything you wish. We have been
apart so long, that perhaps we do differ in some things; but I place
myself in your hands; mould me as you will.”
His impassioned manner left no doubt on his hearer’s mind that he was
sincere, at least for the time; but Kate well knew that natures like his
were past reforming; and she could not, therefore, permit herself to be
misled by these earnest protestations. The interview was becoming too
painful, and she rose to terminate it.
“Don’t talk in that way, Charles,” she said, with tears in her
eyes. “Please don’t,” she added, placing her hand restrainingly on
his arm, as she saw he was about to renew his pleadings. “My decision
is final. The heart cannot be forced.”
There was no mistaking the sincerity of this avowal. It left no room for
hope. Her manner also confirmed her words. As Aylesford seized her dress
to detain her, when she would now have left the room, she gently but
resolutely removed his hold.
The ill-regulated nature of her cousin passed, in a moment, from
entreaty to rage. He was like one of those volcanic countries, where
suddenly, on a clear day, the heavens are filled with smoke and the
solid ground shaken with earthquakes.
“Then you love this Major Gordon,” he cried, livid with suppressed
passion. “You have lost your heart, like a romantic fool, to a rebel
beggar, merely because he happened to be present when you escaped from
shipwreck. Yes! go,” he added, bitterly, as Kate, with dignity, was
proceeding towards the door, “but know that I will go to him, and
force down his throat a disavowal of his suit to you.”
This threat checked Kate’s steps. The scandal of an encounter between
her cousin and her preserver, apart from her well-founded dread of the
former’s skill at fence, induced her to stop, with the hope of
preventing this mad threat from being executed.
“You will do no such thing,” she said, fronting Aylesford with
decision, yet with something of entreaty too in her manner. “You will
not, you cannot, so disgrace her whom, but a moment ago, you professed
to love. Nay, Charles,” she continued, as he was turning away, and
advancing quickly she caught him by the arm, “you must promise me
this. I demand it as a woman, as a relative,” and seeing he was still
unmoved, she added, with spirit— “the honor of our family is
concerned, that a gentleman who preserved my life should not be so
grossly insulted; and I call on you, as my nearest male connexion, to
sustain that honor.”
But Aylesford still turned from her with gloomy rage. As she still
continued to hold fast to him, he finally shook her off roughly,
saying—
“It is you who dishonor the family, by loving this base-born
adventurer.”
“Oh! Charles,” she cried, reproachfully, with a burst of feeling,
“I had not expected this of you.”
He turned on the instant. Again he thought she might be induced to
relent.
“Promise me,” he said, eagerly, “that you will listen to my suit.
Only promise me a probation, I ask nothing more. I will then do anything
you wish.”
She shook her head sadly, but firmly.
“Then it’s no use deceiving me,” was the angry answer, as he flung
off the hand which he had taken.
“You love this low fellow, this cowardly traitor—”
“Stop,” said Kate, with an air of command, her person seeming
actually to dilate before her companion’s eyes. “I will not hear a
gentleman maligned to whom we all owe so much. Nay!” she continued,
almost sternly, as Aylesford attempted to speak, “I will be heard, and
once for all. You forget yourself, and trespass on even the privileges
of a relation, when you charge me with loving Major Gordon. You grossly
insult me, when you say that I could love any man merely because he
saved my life. Moreover,” she added, with something of haughty scorn
in her manner, “if you will seek this gentleman’s blood, you may
find to your cost that he is anything but a coward. As for me,” and
her eyes sparkled with determination, “I shall take good care that
Major Gordon knows that I have no share in this dishonorable
requital.”
With these words she swept from the room like an empress, not
condescending to pursue the altercation further.
Aylesford, with an oath, saw the door close after her, when, hastily
arming himself, he ordered his horse saddled and went forth to provoke
the duel which we have seen so opportunely interrupted.