ALDEN AND HIS EVIL GENIUS MEET AGAIN.
Meanwhile the visitors that had left Blue Cliffs that morning traveled
together until they reached Richmond.
The train got in at ten o'clock that night.
There was no steamboat to Mount Ascension Island until the next day.
So the party for that bourne were compelled to spend the night at
Richmond.
Alden, although he might have gone on to Charlottesville that night,
determined to remain with his friends.
The whole party went to the Henrico House, where they were accommodated
with adjoining rooms.
The next morning they resumed their journey, separating to go their
several ways. Alden saw the two young ladies safely on the steamboat
that was to take them to Mount Ascension, and then bade them good-bye,
leaving them in charge of the Rev. Dr. Jones, who was to escort them to
the end of their journey.
He had barely time to secure his seat for Charlottesville, where he
arrived on the afternoon of the same day.
The letter he had to deliver to Mary Grey "burned in his pocket." He
could not have done otherwise than promise to deliver it in person, when
fair Emma Cavendish had requested him to do so. And now, of course, he
must keep his word and go and carry the letter to her, although he would
rather have walked into a fire than into that false siren's presence.
It is true that his love for her was dead and gone. But it had died such
a cruel and violent death that the very memory of it was full of pain
and horror, and to meet her would be like meeting the specter of his
murdered love. Nevertheless he must not shrink from his duty; he must go
and do it.
Before reporting at his college, he went to a hotel and changed his
clothes, and then started out to find Mary Grey's residence. That was
not so easily done. She had omitted to leave her address with her
friends at Blue Cliffs, and Emma's letter was simply directed to Mrs.
Mary Grey, Charlottesville.
True, Charlottesville was not a very large place; but looking for a lady
there was something like looking for the fabulous needle in the
haystack.
Still, he had formed a plan of action to find her. He knew that she
pretended to great piety; that she was a member of the Protestant
Episcopal Church, and that wherever she might happen to sojourn she
would be sure to join the church and make friends with the clergy of her
own denomination.
So Alden bent his steps to the house of the Episcopal minister at
Charlottesville.
He found the reverend gentleman at home, and received from him, as he
had expected to do, the address of Mrs. Grey.
"A most excellent young woman, sir--an earnest Christian. She lost not a
day in presenting her church letter and uniting herself with the church.
She has been here but ten days, and already she has taken a class in the
Sunday-school. A most meritorious young woman, sir," said the worthy
minister, as he handed the card with Mrs. Grey's new address written
upon it.
To Alden, who knew the false-hearted beauty so well, all this was
surprising.
But he made no comment. He simply took the card, bowed his thanks, and
left the house to go and seek the home of Mrs. Grey.
Among many falsehoods, the woman had told one truth when she had
informed Emma Cavendish that she had a lady friend at Charlottesville
who kept a students' boarding-house. She had met this lady just previous
to engaging as drawing-mistress at Mount Ascension. And by her alluring
arts she had won her sympathy and confidence. She was staying with this
friend at the time that Alden sought her out.
He now easily found the house.
And when he inquired of the negro boy who answered the bell whether Mrs.
Grey was at home, he was answered in the affirmative and invited to
enter the house.
The boy opened a door on the right hand of the narrow entrance passage,
and Alden passed into the parlor and found himself, unannounced, in the
presence of his false love.
There was no one with her, and she was sitting at a table, with drawing
materials before her, apparently engaged in copying a picture.
Hearing the door open and shut, she lifted her head and looked up.
Seeing Alden Lytton standing before her, she dropped the pencil from her
fingers, turned deathly pale and stared at him in silence.
Alden, if the truth must be told, was scarcely less agitated; but he
soon recovered his self-command.
"I should apologize," he said, "for coming in unannounced; but I did not
know that you were here. I was shown into this room by the waiter,
supposing that I was to remain here until he took my card to you."
She neither moved nor spoke, but sat and stared at him.
"I have only come as the bearer of a letter to you from Miss
Cavendish--a letter that I promised to deliver in person. Here it is,"
he said, laying the little packet on the table before her.
Still she made no answer to his words, nor any acknowledgment of his
service. She did not even take up Emma's letter.
"And now, having done my errand, I will bid you good-afternoon, Mrs.
Grey," he said, bowing and turning to leave the room.
That broke the panic-stricken spell that held her still.
She started up and clasped her hands suddenly together, exclaiming:
"No, no, no; for pity's sake don't go yet! Now that you are here, for
Heaven's sake stay a moment and listen to me!"
"What can you possibly have to say to me, Mrs. Grey?" coolly inquired
the young man.
"Oh, sit down--sit down one little moment and hear me! I have not got
the plague, that you should hasten from me so," she pleaded.
It was in Alden's thoughts to say that moral plagues were even more
dangerous and fatal than material ones; but the woman before him looked
so really distressed that he forbore.
"I know that you have ceased to love me," she went on in a broken voice.
"I know, of course, that you have ceased to love me--"
"Yes, I am thoroughly cured of that egregious boyish folly," assented
Alden, grimly.
"I know it, and I would not seek to recover your lost, lost love; but--"
Her voice, that had been faltering, now quite broke down, and she burst
into tears and sobbed as if her heart was breaking.
And her grief was as real as it was violent; for she had loved the
handsome young law student, and she mourned the loss of his love.
Alden sat apparently unmoved, but in truth he was beginning to feel very
sorry for this woman, but it was with the sorrow we feel for a suffering
criminal, and totally distinct from sympathy or affection.
Presently her gust of tears and sobs exhausted itself, and she sighed
and dried her eyes and said:
"Yes, I know that all love is quite over between us."
"Quite over," assented Alden, emphatically.
"And it is not to renew that subject that I asked you to stay and listen
to me."
"No," said Alden, gently, "I presume not."
"But, though all thoughts of love are forever over between us, yet I can
not bear that we should live at enmity. As for me, I am not your enemy,
Alden Lytton."
"Nor am I yours, Mrs. Grey. You and I can live as strangers without
being enemies."
"Live as strangers! Oh, but that is just what would break my heart
utterly! Why should we live as strangers? If all love is over between
us, and if we are still not enemies, if we have forgiven each other, why
should we two live as strangers in this little town? Why may we not meet
at least as the common friends of every day?"
"Because the memory of the past would preclude the possibility of our
meeting pleasantly or profitably."
"Oh, Alden, you are very hard! You have not forgiven me!"
"I have utterly forgiven you."
"But you cherish hard thoughts of me?"
"Mrs. Grey, I must regard your actions--the actions that separated
us--as they really are," answered Alden, sadly and firmly, as he arose
and took his hat to leave the room.
"No, no, no; _don't_ go yet! You _must_ hear me--you _shall_ hear me!
Even a convicted murderer is allowed to speak for himself!" she
exclaimed, with passionate tears.
Alden sighed and sat down.
"You must regard my actions as they really are, you say. Ah, but the
extenuating circumstances, the temptations, the motives--aye, the
motives!--have you ever thought of them?"
"I can see no motive that could justify your acts," said Alden, coldly.
"No, not justify--I do not justify them even to myself--not justify, but
_palliate_ them, Alden--palliate them at least in your eyes, if in no
others."
"And why in my eyes, Mrs. Grey?"
"Oh, Alden, all was planned for your sake!"
"For _my_ sake? I pray you do not say that!"
"Listen, then, and consider all the circumstances. I loved you and
promised to be your wife at that far distant day when you should come
into a living law practice. But I was homeless, penniless and helpless.
I had lost my situation in the school, and I had no prospect of getting
another. The term of my visit to Emma Cavendish had nearly expired and I
had nowhere to go. Governor Cavendish loved me with the idolatrous love
of an old man for a young woman, and besought me to be his wife with
such insane earnestness that I thought my refusal would certainly be his
death, especially as it was well known that he was liable to apoplexy
and that any excitement might bring on a fatal attack. Under all these
circumstances I think I must have lost my senses; for I reasoned with
myself--most falsely and fatally reasoned with myself thus: Why should
not I, who am about to be cast out homeless and penniless upon the wide
world--why should not I secure myself a home and save this old man's
life for a few years longer by accepting his love and becoming his wife?
It is true that I do not love him, but I honor him very much. And I
would be the comfort of his declining years. He could not live long, and
when he should come to die I should inherit the widow's third of all his
vast estates. And then, after a year of mourning should be over, I could
marry my true love, and bring him a fortune too. There, Alden, the
reasoning was all false, wicked and fatal. I know that now. But oh,
Alden, it was not so much for myself as for others that I planned thus!
I thought to have blessed and comforted the old man's declining years,
and after his death to have brought a fortune to you. These were my
motives. They do not justify, but at least they palliate my conduct."
She ceased.
Alden did not reply, but stood up again with his hat in his hand.
"And now, Alden, though we may never be lovers again, may we not meet
sometimes as friends? I am so lonely here! I am, indeed, all alone in
the world. We may meet sometimes as friends, Alden?" she asked,
pathetically.
"No, Mrs. Grey. But yet, if ever I can serve you in any way I will do so
most willingly. Good-afternoon," said the young man.
And he bowed and left the room.
As he disappeared her beautiful face darkened with a baleful cloud. "No
fury like a woman scorned," wrote one who seemed to know. Her face
darkened like a thunder-storm, and from its cloud her eyes shot forked
lightning. She set her teeth, and clinched her little fist and shook it
after him, hissing:
"He scorns me--he scorns me! Ah, he may scorn my love! Let him beware of
my hate! He will not meet me as a friend, but he will serve me
willingly! Very well; he shall be often called upon to serve me, if only
to bring him under my power!"