AT Albany, Mr. Hendrickson found Miss Arden awaiting him. The warmth
of her reception showed that he was more in her eyes than a pleasant
friend. And in his regard she held the highest place--save one.
The meeting with Mrs. Dexter at Newport was unfortunate. Hendrickson
had looked right down into her heart; reading a page, the writing on
which she would have died rather than have revealed. Her pure regard
for him was her own deeply hidden secret. It was a lamp burning in
the sepulchre of buried hope. She could no more extinguish the
sacred fire than quench her own existence.
But thrown suddenly off her guard, she had betrayed this secret to
unlawful eyes. Hendrickson had read it. And she too had read his
heart. After the lapse of more than a year they had met; and without
wrong on either side had acknowledged a mutual inextinguishable
love.
"You are not well, Mr. Hendrickson." Many times, and with
undisguised concern, was this said by Miss Arden, during the journey
to Niagara.
"Only a slight headache;" or, "I'm well enough, but feel dull;" or,
"The trip from Newport fatigued me," would be answered, and an
effort made to be more companionable. But the task was difficult,
and the position in which the young man found himself particularly
embarrassing. His thoughts were not with Miss Arden, but with Mrs.
Dexter. Before the unexpected meeting at Newport, he had believed
himself so far released from that entanglement of the heart, as to
be free to make honorable advances to Miss Arden. But he saw his
error now. With him marriage was something more than a good
matrimonial arrangement, in which parties secure external
advantages. To love Miss Arden better than any other living woman,
he now saw to be impossible--and unless he could so love her, he
dared not marry her. That was risking a great deal too much. His
position became, therefore, an embarrassing one. Her brother was an
old friend. They had been college companions. The sister he had
known for some years, but had never been particularly interested in
her until within a few months. Distancing his observation, her mind
had matured; and the graces of art, education and accomplishment,
had thrown their winning attractions around her. First, almost as a
brother, he began to feel proud of her beauty and intelligence;
admiration followed, and, before he was aware of the tendency of his
feelings, they had taken on a warmer than fraternal glow.
All things tended to encourage this incipient regard; and, as Miss
Arden herself favored it, and ever turned towards Hendrickson the
sunniest side of her character, he found himself drawn onwards
almost imperceptibly; and had even begun to think seriously of her
as his wife, when the meeting with Mrs. Dexter revealed the
existence of sentiments on both sides that gave the whole subject a
new aspect.
A very difficult problem now presented itself to the mind of Mr.
Hendrickson, involving questions of duty, questions of honor, and
questions of feeling. It is not surprising that Miss Arden found a
change in her travelling companion, nor that her visit to Niagara
proved altogether unsatisfactory. No one could have been kindlier,
more attentive, or more studious to make her visit attractive. But
his careful avoidance of all compliments, and the absence of every
thing lover-like, gave her heart the alarm. It was in vain that she
put forth every chaste, womanly allurement; his eyes did not
brighten, nor his cheeks glow, nor his tones become warmer. He was
not to be driven from the citadel of his honor. A weaker, more
selfish, and more external man, would have yielded. But Hendrickson,
like the woman he had lost, was not made of "common clay," nor cast
in any of humanity's ruder moulds. He was of purer essence and
higher spiritual organization than the masses; and principle had now
quite as much to do with his actions as feeling. He could be a
martyr, but not a villain.
Two days were spent at Niagara, and then Hendrickson and Miss Arden
returned, and went to Saratoga. It did not, of course, escape the
notice of Hendrickson, that his manner to his travelling companion
was effecting a steady change in her spirits; and he was not lacking
in perception as to the cause. It revealed to him the sincerity of
her regard; but added to the pain from which he was suffering,
increasing it almost to the point where endurance fails.
It was a relief to Hendrickson when he was able to place Miss Arden
under the care of her mother, who had remained at Saratoga. On the
evening after his arrival, he was sitting alone in one of the
drawing-rooms, when a lady crossed from the other side, and joined
another lady near him.
"Mrs. De Lisle," said the latter, as she arose.
"Good evening, Mrs. Anthony!" and the ladies sat down together.
"I have just received a sad letter from Newport," said Mrs. De
Lisle.
"Indeed! What has happened there?"
"Our sweet young friend is dangerously ill."
"Who? Mrs. Dexter?"
"Yes."
"Mrs. De Lisle! She was in perfect health, to all appearance, when
she left here."
"So I thought. But she has suddenly been stricken down with a brain
fever, and her physicians regard her condition as most critical."
"You distress me beyond measure!" said Mrs. Anthony.
"My friend writes that three physicians are in attendance; and that
they report her case as dangerous in the extreme. I did not intend
going there until next week, but, unless my husband strongly
objects, I will leave to-morrow. Good nursing is quite as essential
as medical skill."
"Go, by all means, if you can," replied Mrs. Anthony. "Dear child! I
shouldn't wonder if that jealous husband of hers had done something
to induce this attack. Brain fever don't come on without mental
excitement of some kind. I can't bear him; and I believe, if the
truth were known, it would be found that she hates the very sight of
him. He's a man made of money; and that's saying the best that can
be said. As to qualities of the mind and heart, she ranks, in
everything, his superior. What a sacrifice of all that such a woman
holds dear must have been made when she consented to become the
wedded wife of Leon Dexter!"
Hendrickson heard no more, for a third party coming up at the
moment, led to a change in the conversation. At the same instant
Mrs. Arden and her daughter entered the room, and he arose and
stepped forward to meet them.
"How pale you look, Mr. Hendrickson!" said Mrs. Arden, with concern.
"Are you not well?"
"I have not felt as bright as usual, for some days," he answered,
trying to force a smile, but without success. "Your daughter has, no
doubt, already informed you that I proved myself one of the dullest
of travelling companions."
"Oh, no," Miss Arden spoke up quickly. "Ma knows that I gave you
credit for being exceedingly agreeable. But, indeed, Mr.
Hendrickson, you look ill."
"I am slightly indisposed," he answered, "and with your leave will
retire to my room. I shall feel better after lying down."
"Go by all means," said Mrs. Arden.
Hendrickson bowed low, and, passing them, left the parlor almost
hurriedly.
"Dangerously ill! A brain fever!" he said aloud, as he gained his
own apartment and shut the door behind him. He was deeply disturbed.
That their unexpected meeting had something to do with this sudden
sickness he now felt sure. Her strong, though quickly controlled
agitation he had seen; it was a revelation never to be forgotten;
and showed the existence of a state of feeling in regard to her
husband which must render her very existence a burden. That she was
closely watched, he had seen, as well as heard. And it did not
appear to him improbable, considering the spirit he had observed her
display, that coincident with his departure from Newport, some
jealous accusations had been made, half maddening her spirit, and
stunning her brain with excitement.
"Angel in the keeping of a fiend!" he exclaimed, as imagination drew
improbable scenes of persecution. "How my heart aches for
you--yearns towards you--longs for the dear privilege of making all
your paths smooth and fragrant; all your hours golden-winged; all
your states peaceful! How precious you are to me! Precious as my own
soul--dear counterpart! loving complement! Vain, as your own strife
with yourself, has been my strife. The burden has been too heavy for
us; the ordeal too fiery. My brain grows wild at thought of this
terrible wrong."
The image of Miss Arden flitted before him.
"Beautiful--loving--pure!" he said, "I might win you for my bride;
but will not so wrong you as to offer a divided heart. All things
forbid!"
Mr. Hendrickson did not leave his room that evening. At ten o'clock
a servant knocked at his door. Mrs. Arden had sent her compliments,
and desired to know if he were better than when he left her?
"Much better," he answered; and the servant departed.
Midnight found him still in strife with himself. Now he walked the
floor in visible agitation; and now sat motionless, with head bowed,
and arms folded across his bosom. The impression of sleep was far
from his overwrought brain. One thing he decided, and that was to
leave Saratoga by the earliest morning train, and go with all
possible haste to Newport. Suspense in regard to Mrs. Dexter he felt
it would be impossible for him to bear.
"But what right have you to take all this interest in a woman who is
another's lawful wife?" he asked, in the effort to stem the tide of
his feelings.
"I will not stop to debate questions of right," so he answered
within his own thoughts. "She _is_ the wife of another, and I would
die rather than stain her pure escutcheon with a thought of
dishonor. I cease to love her when I imagine her capable of being
false, in even the smallest act, to her marriage vows. But the right
to love, Heaven gave me when my soul was created to make one with
hers. I will keep myself pure that I may remain worthy of her."
On the evening of the next day Hendrickson arrived at Newport.
Almost the first man he encountered was Dexter.
"How is Mrs. Dexter?" he asked, forgetting in his anxiety and
suspense the relation he bore to this man. His eager inquiry met a
cold response accompanied by a scowl.
"I am not aware that you have any particular interest in Mrs.
Dexter!"
And the angry husband turned from him abruptly.
"How unfortunate!" Hendrickson said to himself as he passed.
At the office he put the same inquiry.
"Very ill," was the answer.
"Is she thought to be dangerous?"
"I believe so."
Beyond this he gained no further intelligence from the clerk. A
little while afterwards he saw Mrs. Florence in one of the parlors,
and joined her immediately. From her he learned that Mrs. Dexter
remained wholly unconscious, but that the physicians regarded her
symptoms as favorable.
"Do they think her out of danger?" he asked, with more interest in
his manner than he wished to betray.
"Yes."
He could scarcely withhold an exclamation.
"What do you think, madam?" he inquired.
"I cannot see deeper than a physician," she answered. "But my
observation does not in anything gainsay the opinion which has been
expressed. I am encouraged to hope for recovery."
"Do you remain here any time?"
"I shall not leave until I see Mrs. Dexter on the safe side and in
good hands," was replied.
"Have you heard any reason assigned for this fearful attack?"
inquired Hendrickson.
Mrs. Florence shook her head.
Not caring to manifest an interest in Mrs. Dexter that might attract
attention, or occasion comment, Hendrickson dropped the subject.
During the evening he threw himself in the way of the physician, and
gathered all he desired to know from him. The report was so
favorable that he determined to leave Newport by the midnight boat
for New York and return home, which he accordingly did.