During the protracted illness that ensued, Olga temporarily lost the
pressure of the burden she had borne for so many years, and entered
into that Eden which her imagination had painted, ere the sudden
crash and demolition of her _Chateaux en Espagne_. Her delirium was
never violent and raving, but took the subdued form of a beatified
existence. In a low voice, that was almost a whisper, she babbled
ceaselessly of her supreme satisfaction in gaining the goal of all
her hopes--and dwelt upon the beauty of her chalet home--the tinkling
music of the bells on distant heights where cattle browsed--the
leaping of mountain torrents just beyond her window--the cooing of
the pigeons upon the tall peaked roof--the breath of mignonette and
violets stealing through the open door. When pounded ice was laid
upon her head, an avalanche was sliding down, and the snow saluted
her in passing; and when the physician ordered more light admitted
that he might examine the unnaturally glowing eyes, she complained
that the sun was setting upon the glacier and the blaze blinded her.
Now she sat on a mossy knoll beside Belmont, reading aloud Buchanan's
"Pan" and "The Siren," while he sketched the ghyll; and anon she
paused in her recitation of favourite passages to watch the colour
deepen on the canvas.
From the beginning Dr. Suydam had pronounced the case peculiarly
difficult and dangerous, and as the days wore on, bringing no
debatement of cerebral excitement, he expressed the opinion that some
terrible shock had produced the aberration that baffled his skill,
and threatened to permanently disorder her faculties.
Jealously Regina concealed all that had occurred on the evening of
her return, and though Mrs. Palma briefly referred to her daughter's
unfortunate attachment to an unworthy man, whose marriage had
painfully startled her, she remained unaware of the revelations made
by Olga. Although she evinced no recognition of those about her, the
latter shrank from all save Regina whose tender ministrations were
peculiarly soothing; and clinging to the girl's hand, she would
smilingly talk of the peace and happiness reaped at last by her
marriage with Belmont Eggleston, and enjoin upon her the necessity of
preserving from "mamma and Erle Palma" the secret of her secluded
little cottage home.
On the fourth night, Mrs. Palma was so prostrated by grief and
watching, that she succumbed to a violent nervous headache, and was
ordered out of the room by the physician, who requested that Regina
might for a few hours be entrusted with the care of his patient.
"But if anything should happen? And Regina is so inexperienced?"
sobbed the unhappy mother, bending over her child, who was laughing
at the gambols of some young chamois, which delirium painted on the
wall.
"Miss Orme will at least obey my orders. She is watchful and
possesses unusual self-control, which you, my dear madam, utterly
lack in a sick-room. Beside, Olga yields more readily to her than to
any one else, and I prefer that Miss Orme should have the care of
her. Go to bed, madam, and I will send you an anodyne that will
compose you."
"If any change occurs, you will call me instantly?"
"You may rest assured I shall."
Mrs. Palma leaned over her daughter, and as her tears fell on the
burning face of the sufferer, the latter put up her hands, and said:
"Belmont, it is raining and your picture will be ruined, and then
mamma will ridicule your failure. Cover it quick."
"Olga, my darling, kiss mamma good-night."
But she was busy trying to shield the imaginary painting with one of
the pillows, and began in a quavering voice to sing Longfellow's
"Rainy Day." Her mother pressed her lips to the hot cheek, but she
seemed unconscious of the caress, and weeping bitterly Mrs. Palma
left the room. As she passed into the hall a cry escaped her, and
the broken words:
"Oh, Erle, I thought you would never come! My poor child!"
Dr. Suydam closed the door, and drawing Regina to the window,
proceeded to question her closely, and to instruct her concerning the
course of treatment he desired to pursue. Should Olga's pulse sink to
a certain stage, specified doses must be given; and in a possible
condition of the patient he must be instantly notified.
"I am glad to find Mr. Palma has returned. Though he knows no more
than a judge's gavel of what is needful in a sick-room, he will be a
support and comfort to all, and his nerves never flag, never waver.
Keep a written record of Olga's condition at the hours I have
specified, and shut her mother out of the room as much as possible. I
will try to put her to sleep for the next twelve hours, and by that
time we shall know the result. Good-night."
Olga had violently opposed the removal from Regina's room, and in
accordance with her wishes she had remained where her weary whirling
brain first rested on the day of her return. Arranging the medicine
and glasses, and turning down the light, Regina put on her pale blue
dressing-gown girded at the waist by a cord and tassel, and loosely
twisted and fastened her hair in a large coil low on her head and
neck. She had slept none since Olga came home, and anxiety and
fatigue had left unmistakable traces on her pale, sad face. The
letter to her mother had been finished and signed, but still lay in
the drawer of her portable writing desk, awaiting envelope and stamp;
and so oppressed had she been by sympathy with Olga's great
suffering, that for a time her own grief was forgotten, or at least
put aside.
The announcement of Mr. Palma's return vividly recalled all that
beclouded her future, and she began to dread the morrow that would
subject her to his merciless bright eyes, feeling that his presence
was dangerous. Perhaps by careful manoeuvring she might screen
herself in the sick-room for several days, and thus avoid the chance
of an interview, which must result in an inquiry concerning her
answer to Mr. Lindsay's letter. Fearful of her own treacherous heart,
she was unwilling to discuss her decision until assured she had grown
calm and firm, from continued contemplation of her future lot;
moreover, her guardian would probably return from Washington an
accepted lover, and she shrank from the spectacle of his happiness,
as from glowing ploughshares--lying scarlet in her pathway. In this
room she would ensconce herself, and should he send for her, various
excuses might be devised to delay the unwelcome interview.
Olga had grown more quiet, and for nearly an hour after the doctor's
departure she only now and then resumed her rambling, incoherent
monologue. Sitting beside the bed, Regina watched quietly until the
clock struck twelve, and she coaxed the sufferer to take a spoonful
of a sedative from which the physician hoped much benefit. She bathed
the crimson cheeks with a cloth dipped in iced water, and all the
while the hazel eyes watched her suspiciously. Other reflections
began to colour her vision, and the happy phase was merging into one
of terror, lest her lover should die or be torn away from her.
Leaning over her, Regina endeavoured to compose her by assurances
that Belmont was well and safe, but restlessly she tossed from side
to side.
At last she began to cry, softly at first, like a fretful weary
child; and while Regina held her hands, essaying to soothe her, a
shadow glided between the gas globe and the bed, and Mr. Palma stood
beside the two. He looked pale, anxious, and troubled, as his eyes
rested sorrowfully on the fevered face upon the pillow, and he saw
that the luxuriant hair had been closely clipped, to facilitate
applications to relieve the brain. The parched lips were browned and
cracked, and the vacant stare in the eyes told him that consciousness
was still a long way off.
But was there even then a magnetic recognition, dim and vague, of the
person whom she regarded as the inveterate enemy of her happiness?
Cowering among the bedclothes, she trembled and said, in a husky yet
audible whisper:
"Will you hide us a little while? Belmont and I will soon sail, and
if Erle Palma and mamma knew it, they would tear me from my darling,
and chain me to Silas Congreve, and that would kill me. Oh! I only
want my darling; not the Congreve emeralds, only my Belmont, my
darling."
Something that in any other man would have been a groan, came from
the lawyer's granite lips, and Regina, who shivered at his presence,
looked up, and said hastily:
"Please go away, Mr. Palma; the sight of you will make her worse."
He only folded his arms over his chest, sighed, and sat down, keeping
his eyes fixed on Olga. It was one o'clock before she ceased her
passionate pleading for protection from those whom she believed
intent upon sacrificing her, and then turning her face to the wail
she became silent, only occasionally muttering rapid indistinct
sentences.
For some time Mr. Palma sat with his elbow on his knee, and his head
resting on his hand, and even in that hour of deep anxiety and dread,
Regina realized that she was completely forgotten; that he had
neither looked at nor spoken to her.
Nearly a half-hour passed thus, and his gaze had never wandered from
the restless sufferer on the bed, when Regina rose and renewed the
cold cloths on her forehead. She counted the pulse, and while she
still sat on the edge of the bed, Olga half rose, threw herself
forward with her head in Regina's lap, and one arm clasped around
her. Softly the girl motioned to her guardian to place the bowl of
iced water within her reach, and, dipping her left hand in the water,
she stole her fingers lightly across the burning brow. Olga became
quiet, and by degrees the lids drooped over the inflamed eyes.
Patiently Regina continued her gentle cool touches, and at last she
was rewarded by seeing the sufferer sink into the first sleep that
had blessed her during her illness.
Fearing to move even an inch lest she should arouse her, and knowing
the physician's anxiety to secure repose, the slight figure sat like
a statue, supporting the head and shoulders of the sleeper. The clock
ticked on, and no other sound was audible, save a sigh from Mr.
Palma, and the heavy breathing of Olga. The former was leaning back
in his chair, with his arms crossed, and though Regina avoided
looking at him, she knew from the shimmer of his glasses, that his
eyes were turned upon her. Gradually the room grew cold, and she
raised her hand and pointed to a large shawl lying on a chair within
his reach. Very warily the two spread it lightly over the arms and
shoulders, without disturbing the sleeper. One arm was clasped about
Regina's waist, and the flushed face was pressed against her side.
So they watched until three o'clock, and then Mr. Palma saw that the
girl was wearied by the constrained, uncomfortable position. He had
been studying the colourless, mournful features that were as regular
and white as if fashioned in Pentelicus, and noted that the heavy
hair coiled low at the back of the head, gave a singularly graceful
outline to the whole. She kept her eyes bent upon the face in her
lap, and the beautiful lashes and snowy lids drooped over their blue
depth. He knew from the paling of her lips that she was faint and
tired, but he realized that she could be relieved only by the
sacrifice of that sound slumber, upon which Olga's welfare was so
dependent. If she stirred even a muscle the sleeper might awake to
renewed delirium.
The next hour seemed the longest he had ever spent, and several times
he looked at his watch, hoping the clock a laggard. To Regina the
vigil was inexpressibly trying, and sitting there three feet from her
guardian, she dared not lift her gaze to the countenance that was so
dear.
At four o'clock he took a pillow and lounge cushion and placed them
behind her as a support for her wearied frame, but she dared not lean
against them sufficiently to find relief; and stooping he put his arm
around her shoulder, and pressed her head against him. Laying his
cheek on hers, he whispered very cautiously, for his lips touched her
ear:
"I am afraid you feel very faint; you look so. Can you bear it a
little while longer?"
His breath swept warm across her cold cheek, and she hastily inclined
her head. He lowered his arm, but remained close beside her, and at
last she beckoned to him to bend down, and whispered:
"The fire ought to be renewed in the furnace; will you go down, and
attend to it?"
Shod in his velvet slippers, he noiselessly left the room.
How long he was absent, she was unable to determine, for her heart
was beating madly from the pressure of his cheek, and the momentary
touch of his arm; and gazing at the ring on her finger, she fiercely
upbraided herself for this sinful folly. Wearing that opal, was it
not unwomanly and wicked to thrill at the contact with one, who never
could be more than her coolly kind, prudent, sagacious guardian? She
felt numb, sick, giddy, and her heart--ah! how it ached as she tried
to realize fully that some day he would caress Mrs. Carew!
Olga slept heavily, and when Mr. Palma returned, he brought his warm
scarlet-lined dressing-gown and softly laid it around Regina's
shoulders. She looked up to express her thanks, but he was watching
Olga's face, and soon after walked to the mantlepiece and stood
leaning, with his elbow upon it.
At last the slumberer moaned, turned, and after a few restless
movements, threw herself back on the bolster, and fell asleep once
more, with disjointed words dying on her lips. It was five o'clock,
and Mr. Palma beckoned Regina to him.
"She will be better when she wakes. Go to her room, and go to sleep.
I will watch her until her mother comes in."
"I could not sleep, and am unwilling to leave her until the doctor
arrives."
"You look utterly exhausted."
"I am stronger than I seem."
"Mrs. Palma tells me that you have been made acquainted with the
unfortunate infatuation which has overshadowed poor Olga's life for
some years at least. I should be glad to know what you have learned."
"All that was communicated to me on the subject was under the seal of
confidence, and I hope you will excuse me if I decline to betray the
trust reposed in me."
"Do you suppose I am ignorant of what has recently occurred?"
"At least, sir, I shall not recapitulate what passed between Olga and
myself."
"You are aware that she considers me the author of all her
wretchedness."
"She certainly regards you and Mrs. Palma's opposition to her
marriage with Mr. Eggleston as the greatest misfortune of her life."
"He is utterly unworthy of her affection, is an unscrupulous
dissipated man; and it were better she should die to-day, rather than
have wrecked her future by uniting it with his."
"But she loved him so devotedly."
"She was deceived in his character, and refused to listen to a
statement of facts. When she knows him as he really is, she will
despise him."
"I am afraid not"
"I know her better than you do. Olga is a noble high-souled woman,
and she will live to thank me for her salvation from Eggleston. Her
marriage with Mr. Congreve must not be consummated; I will never
permit it in my house."
"She believes you have urged it, have manoeuvred to bring it to
pass, and this has enhanced her bitterness."
"Manoeuvring is beneath me, and I am justly accused of much for
which I am in no degree responsible. Poor Olga has painted me an
inhuman monster, but her good sense will ere long acquit me, when
this madness has left her and she is once more amenable to reason."
He walked softly across the floor, leaned over the bed, and for some
minutes watched the sleeper, then quietly left the room.
Drawing his dressing-gown closely around her, Regina sat down near
the bedside; and as she felt the pleasant warmth of the pearl-grey
merino, and detected the faint odour of cigar smoke in its folds, she
involuntarily pressed her lips to the garment that seemed almost a
part of its owner.
Day broke clear and cold, and when the sun had risen Regina saw that
the flush was no longer visible in Olga's face, and that to delirium
had succeeded stupor.
The physician looked anxious, and changed the medicine, and he found
some difficulty in arousing her sufficiently to administer it. Mrs.
Palma resumed her watch at her daughter's side, and Dr. Suydam
remained several hours, urging the pale young nurse to take some
repose; but aware that the crisis of the disease had arrived, the
latter could not consent to quit the room even for a moment. Twice
during the day, Mr. Palma came up from his office, and into the
darkened apartment where life and death were battling for their
prostrate prey; but he exchanged neither word nor glance with his
ward, and after brief consultation with the doctor glided noiselessly
away.
About seven o'clock Mrs. Palma went down to dinner, leaving Regina
alone with the sufferer, and scarcely five minutes later she heard a
low moan from the figure that had not stirred for many hours.
Brightening the light, she peered cautiously at the face lying upon
the pillow, and was startled to find the eyes wide open. Trembling
with anxiety she said:
"Are you not better? You have slept long and soundly."
Mournfully the hazel eyes looked at her, and the dry brown lips
quivered.
"I have been awake some time."
"Before your mother left?"
"Yes."
"Dear Olga, is your mind quite clear again?"
"Terribly clear. I suppose I have been delirious?"
"Yes, you have known none of us for five days. Here, drink this, the
doctor said you must have it the instant you waked."
"To keep me from dying? Why should I live? I remember everything so
vividly, and while custom made you all try to save me, you are
obliged to know it would have been better, more kind and merciful, to
have let me die at once. Give me some water."
After some seconds, she wearily put her hand to her head, and a
ghostly smile hovered over her mouth.
"All my hair cut off? No matter now, Belmont will never see me again,
and I only cared for my glossy locks because he was so proud of them.
Poor darling."
She groaned, knitted her brows, and shut her eyes; and though she did
not speak again, Regina knew that she lay wrestling with bitter
memories. When her mother came back, she turned her face toward the
wall, and Mrs. Palma eagerly exclaimed:
"My darling, do you know me? Kiss your mother."
Olga only covered her face with her hands and said wearily:
"Don't touch me yet, mamma. You have broken my heart."
At the expiration of the fifth day of convalescence, Olga was wrapped
in warm shawls and placed on the couch, which had been drawn near the
grate where a bright fire burned. Thin and wan, she lay back on the
cushions and pillows, with her wasted hands drooping listlessly
beside her. Moody, and taciturn, she refused all aid from any but
Regina, and mercilessly exacted her continual presence. By day the
latter waited upon and read to her; by night she rested on the same
bed, where the unhappy woman remained for hours awake, and
inconsolable, dwelling persistently upon her luckless fate. At Mrs.
Palma's suggestion her stepson had not visited the sick-room since
the recovery of Olga's consciousness; and being closely confined to
the limits of the apartment, Regina had not seen her guardian for
several days. About three o'clock in the afternoon, when she had
finished brushing the short tangled hair that clung in auburn rings
around the invalid's forehead, Olga said:
"Read me the 'Penelope.'"
Regina sat down on a low stool close to the couch, and while she
opened the book and read, Olga's right arm stole over her shoulder.
At the opposite side of the hearth her mother sat, watching the pair;
and she saw the door open sufficiently to admit Mr. Palma's head.
Quickly she waved him back with a warning gesture; but he shook his
head resolutely, advanced a few steps, and stood in a position which
prevented the girls from discovering his presence. As Regina paused
to turn a leaf, Olga began a broken recitation, grouping passages
that suited her fancy:
"Yea, love, I am alone in all the world,
The past grows dark upon me where I wait.
* * * * *
Behold how I am mocked!
* * * * *
They come to me, mere men of hollow clay,
And whisper odious comfort, and upbraid
The love that follows thee where'er thou art.
* * * * *
And they have dragged a promise from my lips
To choose a murderer of my love for thee,
To choose at will from out the rest one man
To slay me with his kisses!"----
She groaned, and gently caressing her hand, Regina read on, and
completed the poem.
When she closed the book, Mr. Palma came forward and stood at the
side of the couch, and in his hand he held several letters. At sight
of him a flush mounted to Olga's hollow cheek, and she put her
fingers over her eyes. He quietly laid one hand on her forehead and
said pleadingly:
"Olga, dear sister, if you had died without becoming reconciled to
me, I should never have felt satisfied or happy, and I thank God you
have been spared to us; spared to allow me an opportunity of
explaining some thirds which, misunderstood, have caused you to hate
me. Regina let me have this seat a little while, and in half an hour
you ard Mrs. Palma can come back. I wish to talk alone with Olga."
"To gloze over your deeds and machinations, to deny the dark cowardly
work that has stabbed my peace for ever! No, no! The only service you
can render me now is to keep out of my sight! Erle Palma, I shall
hate you to my dying hour; and my only remaining wish--prayer--is,
that she whom you love may give her pure hand to another; that you
may live to see her belong to other arms than yours, even as you have
helped to thrust Belmont from mine! Oh, I thank God! your cold
selfish heart has stirred at last, and I shall have my revenge, when
you come, like me, to see the lips you love kissed by another, and
the hands that were so sacred to your fond touch clasped by some
other man, wearing the badge and fetter of his ownership! When your
darling is a wife--but not yours--then the agony that you have
inflicted on me will be your portion. Because you love her, as you
never yet loved even yourself, may you lose her for ever!"
She had struck off his hand, and while struggling up into a sitting
posture, her eyes kindled, and her voice shook with the tempest of
feeling that broke over her.
Mr. Palma crimsoned, but motioned Mrs. Palma away, and Regina
exclaimed:
"In her feeble state this excitement may be fatal. Have you no mercy,
Mr. Palma?"
"Because I wish to be merciful to her, I desire you will leave the
room."
Mrs. Palma seized the girl's hand and drew her hastily away, and
while the two sat on the staircase near the door of the sickroom,
Regina learned from a hurried and fragmentary narration that her
guardian had for years contributed to the comfort and maintenance of
Mr. Eggleston's mother and sister, that his influence had been
exerted to induce a friend in Philadelphia to purchase the artist's
"California Landscape," and that his persistent opposition to Olga's
marriage had been based upon indubitable proofs that Mr. Eggleston
had deceived her; had addressed three other ladies during the seven
years' clandestine correspondence, and had merely trifled with the
holiest feelings of the girl's trusting heart. In conclusion Mrs.
Palma added:
"Erle was too proud to defend himself, and sternly prohibited me from
acquainting her with some of his friendly acts. Even those two
helpless Eggleston women do not dream that their annual contribution
of money and fuel comes from him. He would leave Olga in her
prejudice and animosity, did he not think that a knowledge of all
that has occurred might prove to her how unworthy that man is. She
stubbornly persists that my stepson is weary of supporting us, and
desires to force a this marriage with Mr. Congreve; whereas he has
from the beginning assured me he deemed it inexpedient, and dreaded
the result."
"Mrs. Palma, she insists that she will never marry any one now, and
intends to join one of the Episcopal Church sisterhoods in a western
city."
"She certainly will not marry Mr. Congreve, for Erle called upon him
and requested him to release Olga from the engagement, alleging,
among other reasons, that her health was very much broken, and that
she would spend some time in Europe. This sisterhood scheme he
declares he will not permit her to accomplish."
Between the two fell a profound silence, and Regina could think of
nothing but her guardian's flushed confused countenance, when Olga
taxed him with his love for Mrs. Carew. How deeply his heart must be
engaged, when his stem, cold, noncommittal face crimsoned?
It seemed a long time since they sat down there, and Regina was
growing restless when the front door-bell rang. The servant who
brought up a telegram addressed to Mr. Palma, informed Mrs. Palma
that Mr. Roscoe was waiting in the dining-room to see her.
"My dear, knock at the door, and hand this to Erle. I will come back
directly."
She went downstairs, and, glad of any pretext to interrupt an
interview which she believed must be torturing to poor Olga, Regina
tapped at the door.
"Come in."
Standing on the threshold, she merely said:
"Here is a telegraphic despatch, which may require a reply."
"Come in," repeated Mr. Palma.
Advancing, she saw with amazement that he was kneeling close to the
couch, with Olga's hand in his, and his bowed head close to her face.
When she reached the lounge she found that Olga was weeping bitterly,
while now and then heavy sobs convulsed her feeble frame.
"Mr. Palma, do you want to throw her back into delirium by this cruel
excitement? Do go away, and leave us in peace."
"She will feel far happier after a little while, and tears will ease
her heart. Olga, you have not yet given me your promise."
"Be patient! Some day you will learn perhaps that though the idol you
worshipped so long has fallen from the niche where you set it, even
the dust is sacred; and you want no strange touch to defile it. Oh
the love, the confidence, the idolatry--I have so lavishly
squandered! Because it was wasted, and all--all is lost, can I mourn
the less?"
"At least give me your promise to wait two years, to follow my
advice, to accede to my plan for your future."
He wiped the tears from her cheek, and after some hesitation she said
brokenly:
"How can you care at all what becomes of me? But since you have saved
me from Mr. Congreve, and contrived to conceal the traces of my
disguise and flight from Albany, I owe you something, owe something
to your family pride. I will think over all you wish, and perhaps
after a time, I can see things in a different light. Now--all is
dark, ruined--utterly----"
She wept passionately, hiding her face in her hands; and rising, Mr.
Palma placed some open letters on the chair beside her. He walked to
the window, opened and read the telegram, and Regina saw a heavy
frown darken his brow. As if pondering the contents, he stood for
more than a minute, then went to the door, and said from the
threshold:
"The papers, Olga, are intended for no eye but yours. In reviewing
the past, judge me leniently, for had you been born my own sister I
should have no deeper interest in your welfare. Henceforth try to
trust me as your brother, and I will forgive gladly all your unjust
bitterness and aspersion."
He disappeared, and almost simultaneously Mrs. Palma came back and
kissed her daughter's forehead.
With a low piteous wail, Olga threw her white hands up about her
mother's neck, and sobbed:
"Oh, mamma! mamma! take me to your heart! Pity me!"