What meetings were these between persons circumstanced as we once were
and were now! But it could not be otherwise, and all I now suffered I
had brought upon myself. In order to change the tone of our feelings, I
told him De Walden had breakfasted with me, and then asked him if he
would not like to see Juan.
He said "Yes," but carelessly, and then added, "So De Walden has been
with you?" and fell into a mournful reverie till our uncomfortable
interview was over.
I promised to send him by Juan all he wanted and desired, of linen,
clothes, and food; for Benoit had assured me he would allow him to
receive any thing for the sake of his good wife. He thanked me, shook
my hand kindly, and saw me depart, as I thought with pleasure.
I found De Walden waiting for me with Juan. The latter by my desire
asked for Benoit, and begged to know of him at what hour that day or
evening he might be admitted to his master. Accordingly he went,
carrying with him the articles I mentioned. He was gone some time; and
anxious indeed was I for his return.
"I have seen her," said he.
"Seen whom?"
"That vile woman."
"Was she with him?" cried I, turning very faint.
"No, no: let the good Benoit alone for that. She desired to see the
Citoyen Pendarves, her husband;" on which Benoit scornfully answered,
"One wife is enough for any man: I allow him to see one of his every
day, but no more; so go away, and do not return again."
"What!" exclaimed the creature, in great agitation, "is she, is Helen
Pendarves in Paris?"
"Yes; _she_, the _true_ she,--the good wife is here; and _she_ alone
will Benoit admit to his prisoner. _Va-t en, te dis-je!_"
"And the creature went away," added Juan; "for I saw and heard it all,
giving him such a look!"
I could not help being pleased with this account; but I sent him
immediately to tell De Walden what had passed, that he might lose no
time in seeking La Beauvais, to prevent her going to the prison, and
thereby increasing the danger of Pendarves.--When Juan returned, I
asked for a minute detail of all that passed between my husband and
him.
"Oh! he is very wretched!" he replied: "but he told me nothing
concerning himself; he only walked up and down the narrow room, asking
me nothing but about you, and why they let you come, and if De Walden
came on purpose to guard you. In short, we talked of nothing else; and
then he did so wish you safe back in your own country!"
This account gave me sincere pleasure, and made me believe that
Seymour's heart was not so much alienated from me as I expected; and a
weight seemed suddenly taken from my mind. The next day I went again at
noon, and I found La Beauvais in high dispute with Benoit. As soon as he
saw me, he saw that I recognised her, and that my countenance bore the
hue of death, he caught my hand, saying, "_Vite! vite! entre donc:_
BELLE _et_ BONNE! _et toi, va-t en tout de suite!_"[18]
[Footnote 18: Quick! quick! enter: fair and good! but you, go away
directly!]
La Beauvais, provoked and disappointed, seized my arm. "Madame
Pendarves," she cried, "the same interest brings us hither: use your
influence over this barbarian to procure me admittance."
"The same interest!" I replied, turning round, throwing her hand from my
arm, and looking at her with all the scorn and abhorrence which I felt:
"_Madame, je ne vous connois pas._"[19]
[Footnote 19: Madam! I do not know you.]
"It is well," she said. "Depend on it, I shall refresh your memory; and
soon too. I will be revenged, though my own heart bleeds for it."
She then hastened away; and I, feeling the rash folly I had committed,
and fearing I had irreparably injured my husband's cause, was forced to
let the kind jailor conduct me to his own apartment, in order that I
might recover myself before I went to Pendarves. I found him more
cheerful, and also more affectionate in his manner towards me. He had
been reading a letter, which he hastily put into his pocket; yet not so
soon but that my quick eye discovered in the address the hand of La
Beauvais. It was this renewal of intercourse, then, that had made him
cheerful! But why then was he more affectionate to me? I have since
resolved that question to my satisfaction.
No one likes to give up any power once possessed. Pendarves had
flattered himself La Beauvais fondly loved him; and his bitter grief
at her apparent desertion of him, arose from wounded pride, and the fear
of having lost his power over her, more than from pining affection.
But she had written to him; she was trying to gain admittance to his
prison:--his wounded vanity therefore was at rest on one point, and the
sight of me was grateful because it ministered to it in another.
But I did not, could not reason then: I only felt; and what with
jealousy, and what with my fears for his life, now, I thought,
endangered by me, I was ill and evidently wretched the whole time I
staid. But Seymour's manner to me was most soothing, and even tender. At
that moment I could better have borne indifference from him; for I was
conscious that I had weakly given way to the feelings of an injured
jealous woman, and had thereby probably given the seal to his fate!
Glad was I when the jailor summoned me; for I was anxious to tell De
Walden the folly which I had committed; and I saw that Seymour was hurt
at the cold and hurried manner in which I bade him farewell.
When I saw De Walden, he told me that he had called in vain on La
Beauvais hitherto; but would try again and again. On hearing what had
passed between us he became alarmed, but declared that he could not have
forgiven me if I had spoken or acted otherwise. That day some of the
tyrant's creatures were in our shop, and one of them desired to see the
other shop-woman, declaring Alice was not pretty enough to wait on them;
and that they were resolved the next time they came to see _la belle
Angloise_.--But every other fear was soon swallowed up in one.
Juan overheard that night in the Thuilleries gardens, that the
Englishman Pendarves would be brought before the tribunal the day after
the next, and there was no doubt of his being executed with several
others directly!!!
The moment, the dreaded moment was now indeed at hand, and how was it
to be averted? De Walden heard this intelligence also, and came to me
immediately. But all hope seemed vain, because he was to be condemned to
satisfy private wishes, and not because any public wrong could be proved
against him; and he left me in utter despair. But he also left me to
reflect; and the result was a determination to act resolutely and
immediately, and to risk the event. Suffice, that I called my faithful
servants into my room, reminded them of that fidelity and obedience to
me which they had vowed to my poor mother on her death-bed, and told
them the hour for them to prove their attachment and fulfil their vow
was now arrived. This solemn adjuration was answered by as solemn
assurances to obey me in whatever I required of them. I first required
that they should keep all I was now going to say, and all they or I were
going to do, profoundly secret from De Walden. I saw Juan recoil at
this; but I was firm, and he swore himself to secrecy. I then unfolded
to them my scheme, and had to encounter tears, entreaties urged on
bended knee, that I would give up my rash design, and consider myself.
But they might as well have talked to the winds. "I feel," said I, "by
the suddenness of this proceeding, that my treatment of La Beauvais has
done this, and it is my duty, at all risks to myself, to save my husband
from the death to which I have hurried him." The faithful creatures were
silenced, but not convinced. Still, finding they could not prevent my
purpose, and that I declared I would cry "_Vive le Roi_," that I might
die with my husband, they prepared in mournful obedience to consult with
me on the best means of accomplishing my wishes.
My plan was this: I resolved to ask permission to take a last farewell
of Pendarves at night, after I had seen him in the morning, and then
change clothes with him, and remain in his stead.
"And as Benoit was ill in bed this evening, when you went," said I,
"there is no likelihood that he will be well to-morrow; so my plan
cannot injure him. Therefore, let us be prepared to execute what I have
designed, directly."
"Well! my comfort is," said Juan, "that my master will not consent to
risk your life to save his."
"Not willingly; but I shall force him to do it."
"Well! we shall see."
You may remember how I used to regret my great height, because Pendarves
did not admire tall women; but now how I valued it, as it made it more
easy for Pendarves to pass for me, and therefore might aid my efforts to
save his life!
We agreed that Alice and Juan should be in waiting with a covered
peasant's cart, at the end of the Luxembourg gardens; that then he
should drive him and her to our lodging in the Champs Elisees, which we
had again hired, where he was to pass for me, and still hide his face as
if in great affliction. The house was kept by a deaf, stupid old woman,
who was not likely to suspect any thing. And at day-break, Pendarves in
a peasant's dress, with Alice by his side, dressed like a peasant also,
with her hood over her face, was to drive on day and night when he had
passed the barrier, which we hoped it would be easy to do, till some
place of safe retreat offered itself on the road. And I knew that on
this road was the _chateau_ of a gentleman whom we had known and had
done kindnesses for in England, who had contrived like some others to
take no part in politics, and had retained his house and his land.
All was procured and ready as I desired; and, having written down my
scheme for my husband, conjuring him to grant my request, I went to the
prison in the morning with a beating heart, lest Benoit should be well
enough to be at his post. But he was not only unwell; he was dismissed
from his office. The _bon Benoit_, as he was called, was too good for
his situation.[20]
[Footnote 20: An historical fact.]
Seymour beheld with wonder, and no small alarm, my cheek, now flushed,
now pale, my tremulous voice, and my abstracted manner; and I once more
saw in him that affectionate interest and anxiety so dear to my heart.
"You are ill, my beloved," said he at length.
"Beloved!" How the word thrilled through my heart! I never expected to
hear it again from his lips; and the sound overcame me. "I shall be
better soon," cried I, bursting into tears.
The surly jailor (Oh! how unlike Benoit!) who had taken his place, now
summoned me away, and I slided my letter into my husband's hands. "Read
it," said I, "and know that your doom is fixed for to-morrow; therefore
I conjure you by our past loves to grant the request which this letter
contains; and if you think I have deserved kindness from you, comply
with my wishes."
Seymour, who had heard nothing of his approaching fate, took the letter,
and listened to me with a bewildered air; and I hastened from the
prison. I had easily obtained permission to return to the prison at
night.
"It will be the last time. You will never come again," said the brutal
gaoler: "your husband will never come back when he goes to the tribunal
to-morrow, so come and welcome!"
I spent the intervening time in writing a letter to De Walden, inclosing
one for my uncle, which I begged him to forward; and I arranged every
thing as if death awaited me. Nay, how could I be assured that it did
not? but I kept all my fears to myself and talked of hope alone to my
poor servants, who wandered about, the pictures of grief.
When De Walden called that day I would not see him, but lay down on
purpose to avoid him; for I dreaded to meet his penetrating glance.
As it was now the middle of July, days were shortening, and by eight
o'clock twilight was gathering fast. My appointment was for half-past
seven; and by a bribe I obtained leave from Benoit's unworthy successor
to stay till half-past eight.
Then, summoning all my fortitude, I entered the cell of my husband. I
shall pass over the first moments of our meeting; but I shall never
forget them, and I am soothed and comforted when I recollect all that
escaped from that affectionate and generous, though misguided being.
Suffice, that all his arguments were vain to persuade me that he was not
worthy to be saved, at even the smallest risk to a life so precious as
mine.
"My life precious!" cried I: "a being without any near and dear ties!
with neither parent, child, nor husband, I may _now_ say," cried I,
thrown off my guard by the consciousness of a desolate heart.
"I have deserved this reproach," said Seymour; "you have indeed no
husband, therefore why should not I die? as, were I gone, Helen, I feel,
I know, that you would be no longer desolate!"
I understood his meaning, but did not notice it. Bitter was now the
anguish which I felt; nay, so violent was my distress, and so earnest
my entreaties that he would escape, as the idea that he refused me in
consequence of what I had just said, would, if he perished, drive me, I
was convinced, to complete distraction, that he at last consented to my
request.
"But, take notice," said he, "that I do it with this assurance, that, if
my escape puts you in peril, I will return and suffer for or with you;
and then you shall again find that you have a husband, Helen, and our
union shall be renewed in death, and cemented in our blood.--I say no
more. You command, and it is my duty to obey."
He then took off his _robe de chambre_ which he wore in prison; and I
dressed him in the loose gown I had made up for the occasion, and long
enough to hide his feet; and even when he had my bonnet on, I had the
satisfaction of seeing that he did not look much taller than I did. I
now wrapt his robe tight round me, put all my hair under his night-cap
and with my handkerchief at my eyes awaited the gaoler's summons; while
Pendarves dropped the veil, and covered his face with his handkerchief
as if in grief. But the anxious heavings of my bosom and the mournful
ones of his were only too real. Every thing favoured us; the wind was
high, and, by blowing the door to, blew out the lamp which the gaoler
held: therefore the only light was from a dim lamp in the passage. At
the door stood the trembling Juan.
"There, take care of her; for she totters as if she was drunk," said the
gaoler; "I warrant you she will never come again."
In five minutes more Seymour was in the cart, and very shortly after he
reached our cottage in safety, and was, as me, lying in my bed in the
Champs Elisees. I, meanwhile, went to bed, and made no answer, but by
groans to the "Good night" and brutal consolations of the gaoler, when
he came to lock me up, without the smallest suspicion who I was. But
when I heard myself actually locked up for the night, I threw myself on
my knees in a transport of devout gratitude.
The next morning I rose after short and troubled rest, seating myself
with my back to the door, that I might remain undiscovered as long as I
could, in order to give my husband more time to get away. But I could no
longer retard the awful moment; for my gaoler came to summon me before
the tribunal.
"I am quite ready!" said I, turning slowly round. I leave you to imagine
his surprise, his indignation, his execrations, and his abuse. I forgave
him, for the poor wretch feared for his place, if not for his life.
"Yes: you shall go before the tribunal," said he, seizing me with savage
fury. "But no, I must first send after your rascally husband."
He then locked me in; and I saw no more of him for two hours, when I
heard a great noise in the passage, down which my cell when open looked,
and presently the door was unlocked by the gaoler himself, who exclaimed
with a malignant smile, "Your husband is taken, and brought back! Look
out, and you will see him!"
I _did_ look out, I did see him, unseen by him at first, and I saw him
walking up the passage with La Beauvais weeping on his arm, and one of
hers thrown across his shoulder.
An involuntary exclamation escaped me; and I retreated back into the
cell. I have since heard that Henroit and his guards, De Walden and
Juan, were in the passage; but I only saw my husband and La Beauvais;
and leaning against the wall I hid my face in my hands, oppressed with a
thousand contending and bewildering sensations.
"There!" said the vindictive gaoler, ushering in Pendarves, as if he
felt how painful a _tete-a-tete_ between us now would be; "there,
citizen! I shall shut you up with your wife, till I know what is to be
done with her. But perhaps you would like the other _citoyenne_ better?"
"Peace!" cried Pendarves, "and leave us alone!"
"Helen!" said my husband.
"Mr. Pendarves!"
"I see how it is, Helen; nor can I blame you: appearances were against
me. But I must and will assure you, that that person's appearing at such
a time, and her behaviour, were as unexpected as they were unwelcome."
Still I spoke not: no, not even to inquire why I had the misery of
seeing him return; and ere I had broken this painful but only too
natural silence, and had only just resumed my woman's gown, the door was
again thrown open, and an officer of the National Convention came to
say, that I was allowed to return home for the present, till further
proceedings were resolved upon.
"Take notice, sir," said Pendarves, "that this lady's only fault has
been too great a regard for an unworthy husband; and that what you may
deem a crime, the rest of Europe will call a virtue."
The officer smiled; and wishing my husband good night, I followed where
he led.
At the gate I found De Walden, who accompanied me home, having first
been assured by the officer that I should be under surveillance.
"And is it thus, rash Helen, you use your best friends, and risk an
existence so valuable?" cried De Walden.
"Spare me, spare me your reproaches," said I: "I am sufficiently humbled
already."
"Not _humbled_--those only are humbled who could injure such a creature.
Helen, I was in the passage at the prison, and I saw all that passed.
"Now then, while this recollection is fresh on your mind, let me ask you
if you think yourself justified in staying here where you are now
exposed to insult and to danger, for the sake of one who at a moment
which would have bound another man more tenderly than ever, could so
meet and so offend your eyes?" I was still silent.
"Now then hear my proposal. I have the greatest reason to believe that
I can secure an escape both for you, Alice, and myself, through the
_barriere_ this very night on the road to Switzerland, There, my dear
friend, I offer you a home and a parent! My mother will be your mother,
my uncle your uncle; and well do I know, that could my revered Mrs.
Pendarves look down on what is passing here, she would be happier to see
you under the protection of my family than under any other protection on
earth!"
"No, my dear friend, no; your just resentment and your wishes deceive
you. My mother valued her child's fame and her child's virtues equal
with her safety."
"Your fame could not suffer. I would not live even near you, Helen. I am
as jealous of your fame as any mother could be: besides that _principle_
would make me shun you.--No, Helen; I would see you safe in Switzerland,
and then sail for America."
"Generous man! But you shall not quit your country for my sake: besides,
I will not quit my husband in the hour of danger. No, whatever be the
fate of Pendarves, I stay to witness and perhaps to share it. The die is
cast: so say no more."
By this time we had reached my home. Alice came to meet me.
"O my poor, dear master!" said she: "but it was all his own seeking. We
had passed the barrier; but he would go back. He declared he could not,
would not escape till he knew you were safe: when just as I was got into
the house in the Champs Elisees, and he was holding the reins in his
hands, the officers seized him; and he said, 'I am he whom you seek--I
am quite willing to accompany you.'"
"This in some measure redeems his character with me," cried De Walden;
and _I_ did not feel it the less because I said nothing: but at length I
said, "Generous Seymour! He never told me this. He did not make a merit
of it with me."
Juan now came in, lamenting with great grief his poor master's return.
"O that vile woman!" cried he: "It was at her instigation that he was to
have been tried and condemned to-day; and then she repented, and came
to the prison to watch for his being led out, when she saw him brought
back, and then she had the audacity to hang upon him, weeping and making
such a fuss! while he, poor soul, tried to shake her off, assuring her
he forgave her, but never wished to see her more!"
"Did he act and talk thus?" cried I.
"He did indeed."
"And he came back from anxiety for me! O my dear friend, how glad am I
that I refused your proposal before I heard this!"--Sweet indeed was it
to my heart to have the conduct of Pendarves thus cleared up.
That evening we learnt that Pendarves was to go before the tribunal the
next day; and I was preparing to try to gain admittance to him, and to
see him as he came out, when an order for my own arrest came, and an
officer and his assistants to lead me to a prison. Juan instantly went
in search of De Walden; but I was led away before his return.
On the road we met the tyrant: "_Ah ha, ma belle!_" cried he, "where are
now your green spectacles?"
I haughtily demanded my liberty; but he said I was a dangerous
person--and to prison I was borne. To such a prison too! My husband's
cell was a palace to mine; but I immediately concluded that they wished
to make my confinement so horrible that I should be glad to leave it on
any conditions.
Two days after, and while I had been, I found, forbidden to see any
one, I received a letter informing me that my decree of arrest should
instantly be _casse_, my husband set at liberty and sent with a
safe-conduct out of the frontiers, if I would promise to smile on a man
who adored me, and who had power to do whatever he promised, and would
perform it before he claimed one approving glance from my fine eyes.
I have kept this letter as a specimen of Jacobin love-making. It was not
signed with any name, except that of my _devoue serviteur_; and I never
knew from whom it came.
It told me an answer would be called for _in person_ the day after the
next; and anxiously did I await this interview--await it in horrors
unspeakable. There was, however, one comfort which I derived from this
letter: till it was answered, I felt assured that my husband was safe.
Dreadful was the morrow: more dreadful still the day after it; for
hourly now did I expect the visit of the wretch. But that day, and the
next day passed, and I saw no one but my taciturn and brutal gaoler,
and heard nothing but the closing of the prison doors.
The next day too I expected him still in vain; but that night I marked
an unusual emotion, and, as I thought, a look of alarm in my gaoler;
and my wretched scanty meals were not given me till a considerable time
after the usual hour. That night too I and the other prisoners, I found,
were locked up two hours before the customary time.
All that night I heard noises in the street of the most frightful
description; and as my cell was near the front gates of the prison, I
could even distinguish what the sounds were; and I heard the horrible
tocsin sound to arms: I heard the report of fire-arms, I heard the
shouts of the people, I heard the cry of 'Liberty,' I heard 'Down with
the tyrant!' and all these mingled with execrations, shrieks, and, as I
fancied, groans; while I sunk upon my knees, and committed myself in
humble resignation to the awful fate which might then be involving him I
loved, and which might soon reach me, and drag me from the dungeon to
the scaffold!
At this moment of horrible suspense and alarm, and soon after the day
had risen on this theatre of blood, my door was thrown open, not by my
brutal gaoler, but by De Walden and Juan! My gaoler, one of the tools of
despotism, had fled; the twenty-eighth of July had freed the country
from the fetters of the tyrant; he was _then_ at that moment on his way
to the guillotine with his colleagues; and I, Pendarves, and hundreds
else, were saved!
Oh! what had not my poor servants and De Walden endured during the four
days of my imprisonment! Painful as that was, they feared worse evils
might ensue; while Pendarves, confined with the utmost strictness, was
not allowed to see even Juan!
But where was Pendarves? and why did I not see _him_, if he was indeed
at liberty? De Walden looked down and replied, "He is at liberty, I
know; but we have heard and seen nothing of him."
By this time we had reached my home, where I was received with tears of
joy by my agitated attendants. But, alas! my joy was changed into
mortification and bitterness: and when my happy friends called on me to
rejoice with them, I replied, in the agony of my heart, "I _am_
thankful, but I shall never rejoice again!" and for some minutes I laid
my head on the table, and never spoke but by the deepest sighs.
"I understand you," replied De Walden; "and if I can bring you any
welcome intelligence, depend on it that I will."
He then hastily departed; and worn out with anxiety, want of sleep, and
sorrow, I retired to my bed, and fortunately sunk into a deep and quiet
slumber.
When I went down to breakfast the next day, I found De Walden waiting
for me. His cheek was pale, and his look dejected; but he smiled when I
entered the room, and told me he brought me tidings of my husband.
"Indeed!" cried I with eagerness.
"Yes; I have seen him. He is at a lodging on the Italian Boulevards--and
alone."
"Alone! And--and does he not mean to see me; to call and--"
"How could he? Have you forgotten how you last parted? You resenting
deeply his then only seeming delinquency; and he wounded by, yet
resigned to, your evident resentment."
"True, true: yet still--"
"No; I had a long conversation with Pendarves,--for after his late
behaviour, and being convinced that he was alone, I had no objection to
call on him,--and he received me as I wished. He even was as open on
every subject as I could desire; and I found him, though still
persecuted by the letters of La Beauvais, resolved never to renew any
correspondence with her."
"If so, and if sure of himself, why not write to me, if he does not like
to visit me? I am sure I have not proved myself unforgiving."
"Shall I tell you why? A feeling that does him honour; a consciousness
that, fallen as he is from the high estate he once held in your esteem
and that of others, he cannot presume to require of you, though you are
his wife, a re-instatement in your love and your society; and he very
properly feels that the first advance should come from you: for though,
as I told him, the relaxed principles of the world allow husbands a
latitude which they deny to wives; still, in the eyes of God, and in
those of nicely feeling men, the fault is in both sexes equal; and an
offender like Pendarves is no longer entitled, as he was before, to the
tenderness of a virtuous wife. Nay, Pendarves, penitent and self-judged,
agrees with me in this opinion, and is thereby raised in my estimation."
"What! does Pendarves feel and think thus?"
"Yes; therefore I will myself entreat for him entire forgiveness; but
not directly, and as if a husband who has so grossly erred were as dear
to you as one without error."
Here De Walden's voice failed him; but he soon after added, in a low
voice, "And I trust that to have aided in bringing about your re-union
will support me under the feelings which the sight of it may occasion
me."
"But does Pendarves think I shall be always inexorable?"
"He cannot think so; from your oft experienced kindness."
"Then why prolong his anxiety? Why not offer to return with him to
England directly?"
"Because I think there would be an indelicacy in offering so soon to
re-unite yourself to him. I would have you, though a wife, 'be wooed,
and not unsought be won;' but I should not dare to give you this advice,
were I not convinced that this is the feeling of Pendarves. Besides, I
also feel that he would be less oppressed by your superior virtue, if he
found it leavened by a little female pride and resentment."
"Well, well, I will consider the matter," said I.
The next day, and the day after, De Walden called and saw Pendarves. "He
is very unhappy," said he; "though he might be the envy of all the first
men in Paris. The most beautiful woman in it, who lives in the first
style, is fallen in love with him; but he refuses all invitations to
her house, does not answer her _billets-doux_, and rejects all her
advances."
"He does not love her, I suppose?" I replied, masking my satisfaction in
a scornful smile.
"No, Helen. He says, and I believe him, that he never really loved any
one but you; and for La Beauvais, who persecutes him with visits as well
as letters, he has a kind of aversion. Believe me, that at this moment
he has all my pity, and much of my esteem; and could I envy the man who,
having called you his, is conscious of the guilt of having left you, I
trust I should soon have an opportunity of envying Pendarves."
Oh! the waywardness of the human heart; or, was it only the waywardness
of mine? Now that I found my husband was anxious to return to me, I felt
less anxious for the re-union; and having gained my point, I began to
consider with more severity the faults which I was called upon to
overlook; and though I had reclaimed my wanderer, I began to consider
whether the reward was equal to the pains bestowed. And also I felt a
little mortified to find De Walden so willing to effect our union, and
so active in his endeavours to further it. These obliquities of feeling
were, however, only temporary; and I had actually written to Pendarves,
by the advice of De Walden, assuring him, all was so much forgiven and
forgotten, that I was prepared to quit Paris with him, and go with him
the world over--when the most dreadful intelligence reached me! even at
this hour I cannot recall that moment without agony. I must lay down my
pen--
* * * * *
Pendarves continued to resist the repeated importunities of La Beauvais
to visit her; but at length she sent a friend to tell him she was dying,
and trusted he would not refuse to bid her farewell.--Pendarves could
not, dared not refuse to answer this appeal to his feelings, and he
repaired to her hotel; in which, though he knew it not, she was
maintained by one of the new Members of the Convention, whom she had
inveigled to marry her according to the laws of the republic. When he
arrived, he found her scarcely indisposed; and reproaching her severely
with her treachery, he told her that all her artifices were vain; that
his heart had always been his wife's though circumstances had enabled
her to lure him from me; that now I had shone upon him in the moments of
danger more brightly than ever; and that he conjured her to forget a
guilty man, who, though never likely perhaps to be happy again with the
woman he adored, yet still preferred his present solitary but guiltless
situation to all the intoxicating hours which he had passed with _her_.
La Beauvais, who really loved him, was overcome with this solemn
renunciation, and fell back in a sort of hysterical affection on the
couch; and while he held her hand, and was bathing her temples with
essences, her husband rushed in, and exclaiming, "Villain, defend
yourself!" he gave a pistol into the hand of Pendarves; then firing
himself, the ball took effect; and while De Walden was waiting his
return at his lodgings to give him my letter of recall and of forgiving
love, he was carried thither a bleeding and a dying man! But he was
conscious; and while Juan, who called by accident, remained with him, De
Walden came to break the dread event to me, and bear me to the couch of
the sufferer.
He was holding my letter to his heart.
"It has healed every wound there," said he, "except those by conscience
made; and it shall lie there till all is over."
Silent, stunned, I threw myself beside him, and joined my cold cheek to
his.
"O Helen! and is it thus we meet? Is _this_ our re-union?"
"Live! do but live," cried I, in a burst of salutary tears; "and you
shall find how dearly I love you still; and we shall be so
happy!--happier than ever!"
He shook his head mournfully, and said he did not deserve to live, and
to be so happy; and he humbly bowed to that chastising hand which, when
he had escaped punishment for real errors, made him fall the victim of
an imaginary one.
The surgeons now came to examine the wound a second time, and confirmed
their previous sentence, that the wound was mortal; on which he desired
to be left alone with me, and I was able to suppress my feelings that I
might sooth his during this overwhelming interview.
These moments are some of the dearest and most sacred in the stores of
memory--but I shall not detail them; suffice that I was able, in default
of better aid, to cheer the death-bed of the beloved sufferer, and
breathe over him, from the lips of agonizing tenderness, the faltering
but fervent prayer.
That duty done, my fortitude was exhausted, I saw before me, not the
erring husband--the being who had blighted my youth by anxiety, and
wounded all the dearest feelings of my soul; but the playfellow of my
childhood, the idolized object of my youthful heart, and the husband of
my virgin affections! and I was going to lose him! and he lay pale and
bleeding before me! and his last fond lingering look of unutterable love
was now about to close on me for ever!
"She has forgiven me!" he faltered out; "and Oh! mayst Thou forgive my
trespasses against thee!--Helen! it is sweet and consoling, my only
love, to die here," said he, laying his cheek upon my bosom:--and he
spoke no more!
* * * * *
Alas! I could not have the sad consolation, when I recovered my
recollection, to carry his body to England, to repose by those dear ones
already in the grave; but I do not regret it now. Since then, the hands
of piety have planted the rough soil in which he was laid; flowers bloom
around his grave; and when five years ago I visited Paris, with my own
hands I strewed his simple tomb with flowers that spring from the now
hallowed soil around.
Object of my earliest and my fondest love never, no never, have
forgotten thee! nor can I ever forget! But, like one of the shades of
Ossian, thou comest over my soul, brightly arrayed in the beams of thy
loveliness; but all around thee is dark with mists and storms!
To conclude.--I have only to add, that after two years of seclusion, and
I may say of sorrow, and one of that dryness and desolation of the
heart, when it seems as if it could love no more, that painful feeling
vanished, and I became the willing bride of De Walden; that my beloved
uncle lived to see me the happy mother of two children; and that my aunt
gossips, advises and quotes, as well and as constantly as usual; that on
the death of his uncle and his mother, my husband and I came to reside
entirely in England; that Lord Charles Belmour, with a broken
constitution and a shattered fortune, was glad at last to marry for a
nurse and a dower, and took to wife a first cousin who had loved him for
years,--a woman who had sense enough to overlook his faults in his good
qualities, and temper enough to bear with the former; and he grows every
day more happy, more amiable, and more in love with marriage.
For myself, I own with humble thankfulness the vastness of the blessings
I enjoy; and though I cannot repent that I married the husband of my own
choice, I confess I have never been so truly happy as with the husband
of my mother's:--for though I feel that it is often delightful to
forgive a husband's errors, she, and she alone, is truly to be envied,
whose husband has no errors to forgive.