"How radiant you look this morning," exclaimed Gertrude, in
astonishment, as she opened Rose's chamber door, and sat down by her
bed-side; "your eyes have such a dazzling sparkle, and your cheeks such
a glow. What is it, _ma petite_?" she asked, still gazing on the
speechless Rose.
"Vincent is not dead," said Rose, slowly and oracularly, "Vincent is not
false. The weight has gone from here, Gertrude," laying her hand on her
heart. "I shall see him, though I can not tell you how nor where; but he
will come back to me and Charley. I saw him last night in my dream--so
noble--so good--but, oh! so wan, with the weary search for me. I hid my
face--I could not look in his eyes--for I had doubted him--but he
forgave me; oh! Gertrude, it was blessed, the clasp of those shadowy
arms," and Rose smiled, and closed her eyes again, as if to shut out the
sight of all that might dim her spiritual vision.
"Poor--poor Rose!" murmured Gertrude, terrified at the idea which forced
itself upon her, "reason gone! Poor Rose!" and as she gazed, the warm
tears fell upon the pillow.
Gertrude passed her soft hand magnetizingly over Rose's closed lids and
temples; gradually the bright flush left her cheek, and she sank quietly
to sleep.
"Was this to be the end of all Rose's sufferings? God forbid," murmured
Gertrude. "Death itself were preferable to this," said she, her eyes
still riveted on the beauty of that pale, childish face.
"Hush!" whispered Gertrude, with her finger on her lips, as her brother
rapped on the door for her; she little thought that she had an unread
page in her own eventful history to turn.
"I am so glad I did not see him," exclaimed she, when her brother
finished his narration. "I should have felt as if a rattlesnake lay
coiled in my path. He deserved his chastisement; and yet, John, I do not
like this whipping system; it always seems to me as if a gentleman who
stooped to it put himself on a level with the villain whom he punished."
"It is the only way, Gertrude," said the doctor; "especially where the
law gives no redress. Besides, it is the only thing that appeals to that
kind of fellow."
"But he is so vindictive;" said Gertrude, looking apprehensively at her
brother, "he may lay coiled like a wounded snake, but he will yet make a
spring."
"You forget that his Christian reputation stands in the way of any such
little personal gratification," said John, sarcastically.
"He has been able, though, heretofore, to make a compromise with it,"
said Gertrude.
"Ah! he had only a woman to deal with," answered John, "and one whom he
knew would suffer in silence, as many an injured high-minded woman has
done before, rather than sacrifice the delicacy of her sex, by publicly
brandishing the cudgel in her own defense, even in a righteous cause.
_I_ shall have no such scruples, and you will see that he understands
it. A good sound flagellation is the only 'moral suasion' for such women
tyrants; it is only against the defenseless such cowards dare wage war."
"Let us talk of something else," said Gertrude; and she related to John
what had transpired between her and Rose.
John looked very grave, and sat absorbed in thought.
"I knew it would trouble you," said Gertrude; "it would be so dreadful
should she lose her reason."
"I do not fear that," replied John; "I do not think her mind was
wandering when she told you her dream. I think you will find that she
will be perfectly sane when she wakes.
"Her dream,"--and John hesitated, "may prove true; stranger things have
happened. Stronger chains of evidence than that which apparently
overthrew her hopes have been snapped in twain, and, if--he should--be
living--if--he--should prove worthy of her--dear as she is to me, I
feel Gertrude, that my love is capable of self-sacrifice. I will use my
best endeavors to bring them together.
"I shall never love again," said John; "I shall never see another woman
who will so satisfy my soul, so pure, so childlike, so trusting, and yet
so strong, so immovable in what she considers right--so vastly superior
to all other women. I _had_ woven bright dreams, in which she had a
part," and John walked to the window to conceal his emotion.
Gertrude did not follow him; she knew from experience that there are
moments when the presence even of the dearest friend is a restraint,
when the overcharged spirit must find relief only in solitude and
self-communing, and with a heart yearning with tenderness toward her
brother, she stole softly from his presence.