That evening, as Clemence sat alone with her friend, she asked her the
question which had perplexed herself, and which she had never been able
to solve: "Ulrica, why are so many people unhappy?"
"Child, I cannot tell you," replied the elder woman, mournfully; "for
myself, I know that I have for many years considered life a burden to
me, instead of the glorious boon our Creator designed it. You have never
asked me anything of my former life, but, to-night, the feeling is
strong upon me to speak of the past, for I feel strangely in need of
sympathy."
She bowed her head upon her hands, and great tears coursed down her pale
cheeks, while Clemence sat in wondering silence; then, recovering
herself, she began in a low tone:
"I was the only child of wealthy and indulgent parents. From my infancy
every want was eagerly anticipated by loving friends, who made my will
and pleasure paramount to everything, and who were ever subjected to my
imperious rule. At eighteen, I was a spoiled child, without the least
knowledge of the world, or of the duties and responsibilities of life.
Then my parents died, and left me to the guardianship of a vain and
worldly-minded aunt, who became fond of me, in her way, because of my
beauty and great wealth.
"I mingled a good deal in society, and of course, being an heiress had
many opportunities for marriage. However I was very fond of admiration,
and soon succeeded in establishing a reputation for being a thorough
coquette. At heart, I felt a supreme contempt for those who sought me on
account of those 'golden attractions,' without caring to look beyond.
Had I been differently brought up, I believe I would not have been what
I am to day, a lonely and heart-broken woman, for, though passionate and
somewhat overbearing, I had many good impulses, which, if rightly
trained, might have made me wiser and better. But I was left solely to
the guidance of my own will, and every idle caprice and foolish whim
were always indulged to the utmost. Among all the gentlemen whom I met
at this season, there were only two in whom I felt the least interest.
For one of them, Wainwright Angier, I had a profound regard. I knew that
he was my true friend. It was my nature to despise those whom I could
bend to my will. He had too much manly independence for this, and
conscientiously abstained from flattery. When I did wrong, he
remonstrated earnestly, and when I told him that his advice was not
solicited, looked grieved and reproachful. He was far from my ideal of
perfection, however. It is commonly supposed that people are attracted
towards their opposites, but though Wainwright Angier's character and
personal appearance differed widely from mine, yet I never dreamed, in
those days, of loving him. He was pale and intellectual looking, with
clear, penetrating eyes, and a firm, determined mouth. But his voice
was, I think, his greatest attraction for me, for I am one of the few
who take as much pleasure in an agreeable voice, as in gazing at a
beautiful face.
"The other, Geoffrey Westbourne--how shall I describe him? Tall and
commanding in figure, with glossy purple-black hair, and the midnight
eyes that matched it, he was eminently handsome, and, as everybody
agreed, a splendid conversationalist. Notwithstanding his acknowledged
superiority to all others, and the fact that he was petted and caressed
by every one, I felt an instinctive repugnance to him, that for a long
time I tried in vain to overcome. Perhaps it was because I had heard him
so highly spoken of, that I was ready to find fault. However that maybe,
I felt a secret antipathy to this man. Would I had been allowed to
follow the warning conveyed in these first impressions, what a world of
misery I had then escaped!
"'Well, how did you like him?' queried my aunt, after our first meeting.
'Isn't he splendid?'
"'Not to my taste,' was my reply. 'To tell the truth, I was not very
agreeably impressed by your Mr. Westbourne.'
"'Shocking!' exclaimed the astonished lady, with upraised hands. 'That
girl will surely be an old maid. She has no taste. Not like him, when he
is already deep in love with you? Ulrica, this is arrant coquetry.'
"She had reason to think so afterwards, for the subject of our
conversation soon became a constant visitor at the house. He _was_
handsome, talented and agreeable, besides, all my lady friends were
dying with envy. I felt flattered by his preference, and in time forgot
my early dislike, or remembered it only to wonder and laugh at my
foolish, school-girl fancies. Yet, at times, when I was alone, and had
time for thought, a strange, undefined feeling would steal over me,
amounting to a dread of impending evil, which I could not easily shake
off. Another thing troubled me. Aunt Emily annoyed me, by ceaseless
inquiries as to the result of my acquaintance with Mr. Westbourne. I saw
that to secure him for me was the one object of her ambition. I
remonstrated at this feeling, pained at her want of delicacy.
"One day, when she had been questioning me as usual, I replied,
indignantly; 'Why, any one would think you were tired of me, and wanted
me out of your way, you seem so anxious about my having an establishment
of my own. I am very well contented as I am, and neither expect nor
desire a change.'
"'Now, do listen to reason, child,' she rejoined. 'You must know that it
is my great anxiety for your welfare that induces me to take upon myself
all this care and trouble. Tell me how old you are, Ulrica?'
"'Twenty-one,' I said sullenly.
"'And you have been out three seasons, and people are beginning to talk.
They say it is because you don't wear well, and the men only flirt with
you and leave you.'
"'As if I cared what they say!' I burst forth in my exasperation. 'Thank
heaven, I am independent of everybody's opinion.'
"'Yes, in a measure,' pursued Aunt Emily's calm voice, 'but not wholly.
Society has claims upon you which you cannot disregard. I wish you were
more willing to consult my wishes, and would pay some little attention
to my advice,' she added, plaintively.
"'What do you want of me?' I demanded imperiously; 'tell me, in heaven's
name, and have done with it.'
"'Now you are sensible. I want you to find out just how you are situated
in regard to the gentleman we have been remarking upon, and, to be
plain, I've set my heart on your marrying him.'
"'Mr. Angier,' announced a servant in the doorway. We had been so busily
engaged in our discussion that we had not heard the bell. My aunt rose
and retreated. 'It's only Angier, excuse me to him,' and she glided
though a side door.
"I rose to welcome the visitor, with a clouded brow, and eyes that
sparkled ominously. I was thoroughly out of humor. It was an unlucky
morning. Before he left, Wainwright Angier made me an offer of his heart
and hand. I refused him at once, coldly and decidedly.
"'Is it because you prefer another?' he asked, agitatedly.
"'No, that is not the reason,' I replied, proudly. 'I value you highly
as a friend, but nothing more. I am very sorry this has occurred, but
_you_ at least will exculpate me from the charge of coquetry. I never
dreamed of this.'
"'I know,' he answered, sadly enough. 'It is as I feared. And now let me
ask you, as one whose happiness has long been dearer to me than my own,
do you ever expect to be happy with such a man as Geoffrey Westbourne?
Do not ascribe my motive to jealousy, for, believe me, I am incapable of
a base action. It is only out of the deepest solicitude for your welfare
that I ask this question, for I fear for your future happiness, and that
you may be fatally mistaken in this man.'
"'You are impertinent, sir,' I said, rising. 'Geoffrey Westbourne is
nothing to me, and you need not fear that my affections will be
misplaced. I must respect the man I love, and look up to him as my
superior.' My pride was hurt, now, and I was thoroughly angry.
"'Pardon me,' he said, also rising, then added brokenly--'Remember that
my heart is always open to you. I am sadly afraid that you do not
understand your own feelings. Farewell, we may never meet again, but my
last prayer will be for your happiness.'
"As he went into the hall, the figure of a man stopped him, and Geoffrey
Westbourne called out cheerily;
"'Well met, Angier! What! how pale you look; you are ill. Let me go with
you to your lodgings. I will excuse myself to the ladies.'
"'Thank you, I am quite well,' said Angier, in a low voice. 'I will not
detain you. Good bye.'
"I never saw a face so radiant as was that of Geoffrey Westbourne, as he
entered the room where I stood, hardly knowing whether to withdraw and
ignore these embarrassing circumstances, or meet him in as collected a
manner as possible.
"I had no choice. As was always the case, in this man's presence, I
seemed to have no will of my own. I feared him, and when he repeated the
same question, in almost the very words his friend had uttered, I gave
a far different reply. But, if not dictated by inclination, I knew that
it was expected of me by every one. It almost seemed as if circumstances
had forced me to choose this alternative, and I accepted my fate in
complete indifference.
"In three months we were married, and went abroad. We travelled over
Europe at our leisure, visiting its gay capitals and fashionable
resorts, its different objects of interest famed in history and romance,
and, after an extended tour, returned again to our native land, taking
up a stylish residence in a fashionable quarter of the city, that had
been my former home. My means seemed inexhaustible, but, somewhat to my
astonishment, I found, after marriage, that Geoffrey Westbourne's sole
dependence was upon expectations, which were extremely liable to remain
forever unfulfilled. I knew now that he had married me for my fortune,
for he had told me so with his own lips. He had a double motive in this,
for aside from a feeling of relief in throwing aside the mask of
devotion, was a petty spite on account of my former indifference to him.
I do not think he ever loved me, nor was he capable, in my opinion, of a
pure, unselfish affection for any human being. All he cared for was the
gratification of self. I mourned bitterly, in secret, over this ruin of
my hopes. I had no one to sympathize with me now. Aunt Emily was no
more, and she had been my one true friend, for her affection, if
misguided, was at least sincere.
"I thought often in those days, of the love of my girlhood, for I knew
now that it had been sinful in me to turn from the path that had opened
before me into perfect trust and peace, and walk blindly over withered
hopes to a loveless future. Time had shown me that I esteemed Wainwright
Angier more highly in those days than the man who was now my husband.
But I never spoke of him, and I dared not ask his fate, for I knew my
husband hated his memory. But one sad day, when, with Geoffrey, I walked
down the long winding avenues of the cemetery, and read among these
stranger's graves the name I sought, I think reason must have for a time
deserted me. I had only one memory, and the words 'my last prayer will
be for your happiness,' rang again and again in my ear. I knelt down at
the grave and poured out my grief in all the eloquence of despair,
regardless of him who looked coldly on. I was wild with mournful agony.
After that day I never knew one hour of happiness. My husband turned
from me to strangers. He had never cared for me, and now I was hated and
shunned. His one desire became to relieve himself of my unwholesome
presence.
"In the first year of our marriage, I had, on learning of his
impoverished condition, placed my entire property at his disposal. It
had been a free gift, for I wanted him to see that I trusted him
implicitly. I was now completely at his mercy. I had always been lavish
of my means, for whatever faults I may have preserved, avarice and
parsimony were not of their number. I learned now that I had committed a
very foolish act. I had nothing with which to help myself, and was
completely under his control.
"Suddenly, at a great commercial crisis, everything was swept from us.
'We are now,' said my husband, 'for the first time on an equal footing.
The fortune, which you brought me, has been lost from no carelessness
upon my part. We are engulfed in one common ruin with others who have
before stood steadfast through similar trials. We shall both suffer in
common, for I have lost that for which I sacrificed myself, and have now
nothing to console me. I presume you have learned that fact before this,
Mrs. Westbourne, and know that I married you for the glittering prize
which has just slipped from my grasp.'
"'Oh! Geoffrey,' I exclaimed, 'do not be so cruel.'
"'You call it cruelty,' he replied, 'but I say it is a terrible fact. I
never cared for but but one woman on earth, and I broke her heart when I
told her that I had forever placed a barrier between us by my own _act_.
She died soon after our marriage.'
"'Why have I not known of this before?' I asked. 'Why tell me after so
long a time, when there can be no reparation for the crime? It was a
double wrong you committed when you broke one woman's heart and made
another's whole life desolate. I never dreamed you cared for another.'
"'There I had the advantage of you, my dear,' he said coolly. 'I knew
you were a little too fond of young Angier for my interest. If I had
cared enough about you I should have been furiously jealous, but merely
having an eye to the pecuniary advantage, I let the little dream go on
until I was pleased to put an end to it. Could I have forseen this hour
I would have acted far differently.'
"A week after he came in with a face pale with excitement. 'Such
glorious news,' he exclaimed. 'By the luckiest train of accidents I have
come into possession of a clear hundred thousand, and I don't think I
shall very deeply deplore the demise of the venerable individual who
departed this life just at the right moment.'
"I was nearly happy at this announcement. I thought now I could rely on
his magnanimity. I reflected that I had bestowed everything upon him in
my prosperity, and I hoped that now he would, at least, be more
considerate of my feelings.
"But I was unhappily disappointed. 'The tables are turned now, my dear,'
he said, triumphantly. 'Instead of _my_ house and furniture, _my_
servants, and _my_ money, it is quite another story, and henceforth I
shall have a word to say as to the manner in which _my_ means shall be
invested.'
"He was true to his word. I was left absolutely penniless. If my
wardrobe needed replenishing I had to tell him the exact amount it would
take for each article. I had, too, nothing to bestow upon charitable
objects, for he had always condemned my efforts to relieve others as
indiscriminate charity, that did more harm than good. He bought
everything that was consumed in the house, and hired and paid the
servants himself. This was something new for him to do. My domestics had
been well trained, and wholly under my control, having been long in my
aunt's family, and accustomed to my ways. My husband had often heard me
say that it would be impossible to keep house without these faithful
attendants, for I was totally inexperienced in such matters.
"Now, however, he dismissed them all, and surrounded me with strangers.
My remonstrances were unheeded. 'This is _my_ house, Mrs. Westbourne,'
he would say. 'Henceforth everything shall go as I wish, and if not
agreeable to you, I can gladly dispense with your company altogether.'
"I soon found that this was the one object dear to him. My presence
grew, every day, seemingly more intolerable. This new trouble nearly
overwhelmed me. I learned now that the means that were denied me, was
daily lavished upon others among whom my name was a by-word. One day the
postman brought me a letter, in an unknown hand. It ran thus:
MADAM:--Why do you look so frightfully ill? Every one is remarking
upon your altered appearance. You have everything to make you
happy. Your husband is handsome, and generous as a prince. To prove
it: yesterday he gave me five hundred dollars, and to-day I clasped
upon my arm a splendid bracelet, flashing with beautiful gems, also
his gift. The wheel of fortune turns, and those who were poor and
obscure but yesterday, are rich to-day. _Your_ day of power is
over. Do not be the last to see it. Show some spirit. Be up and
doing. Your society has lost its charm for your husband, and he
finds his only happiness in the love of another who can appreciate
him better than you have ever done. Very well! seek your own
affinity, and find a new Eden. Don't fret and cry till your eyes
are red and swollen, and your whole appearance hideous. It will
only recoil on your own head. Nobody will pity you, and the world
will pass on and forget you. Live while you live, and leave
to-morrow to take care of to-morrow. Remember, "It is a folly to no
other second, to wish to correct the world.--CAROLINE."
"This was followed by others of the same nature. It finally became an
understood thing that Geoffrey should pass nearly all of the time he
could snatch from business, with women of this class. If I questioned
him, he would laugh rudely, and ask me how I was going to help myself.
"There was, indeed, but one way, either to bear all this quietly,
without murmur or reproach, or else obtain a legal separation. I knew
that this was his sole object, and would have complied with it, for my
soul sickened of this life; but, I had a child, a delicate girl, and he
forbade me to take her away. I could not part with my baby daughter;
better even this wretched existence, and so I continued to watch and
wait, and pray God not to forget me in my dire extremity. As time
passed, and my husband saw that he could not move me, he grew impatient,
and took still harsher measures.
"I have every reason to believe that Geoffrey Westbourne, about this
time, made attempts upon my life. He was, however, very careful of his
reputation, and had to be exceedingly circumspect in his movements. But
I foiled him on every occasion. Then I fell sick, and lay for weeks
unconscious. I had the cruelest treatment during my entire illness, and
it was only God's mercy that at length restored me again to something
like health, in opposition to every effort of my enemy's. It left me
almost a confirmed invalid. Before strangers, I had every care and
attention, and when I was ready to sit up, many friends called to
inquire about my health. As soon as I became convalescent, I had
resolved to appeal to my friends for aid and sympathy, but I now saw
that it would be impossible. Had I opened my lips upon the subject, my
nearest friends would have at once been convinced that my sickness had
alienated my reason. My husband was apparently filled with the deepest
anxiety and solicitude for my recovery, and appearences I felt to be
against me. I hoped, though, that there would be a cessation from all
persecution, at least for a time. But this was not to be.
"'You are evidently a great deal better, Mrs. Westbourne!' my husband
said to me, one evening, when we were alone together.
"'Yes, thank God!' I exclaimed fervently, 'I am now nearly restored to
health again.'
"'You do well to thank God, and not me,' he said with a withering sneer,
'you owe me no gratitude for the same.'
"'How you must hate me!' I said, trembling at his tones.
"'Hate you!' he replied, with his face to the very lips livid with
passion, 'if I could strike you out of existence this moment, as you sit
there, I would be almost willing to serve a score of years for the
privilege, and even submit to bear the felon's brand upon my person,
through the remainder of my life. You are a clog and an impediment in
the way of my happiness, the one encumbrance to be got rid of at any
sacrifice. It shall be done! I swear it shall be done, if the heavens
fall and the earth rocks to its foundations!'
"'What shall I do?' Oh, what shall I do?' I cried helplessly.
"'Do!' he hissed, 'listen to me. A short time ago I was so weary of you,
that, with hardly a reason I sought to rid myself of your presence. I
then proposed a separation upon any terms that pleased you, not thinking
it likely that I should ever marry again. I would have been generous
then, had you yielded to my wishes. Since then the aspect of affairs
have changed. I have met the woman whom I have willed shall rule over
this house in your place. She is gloriously beautiful, proud as a queen
and as rich. I desire to appear to the best advantage before her, and I
shall not scruple at the means. I want all the world to think that I am
an injured husband.'
"'Perhaps you have forgotten your old friend Halleck. He called often
during your illness, to inquire after you, and manifested much interest
in your case. I learned that he was quite attentive to you during my
absence last summer. You see you have been thoughtless enough to give me
just the advantage I wanted, Mrs. Westbourne, and I can bring a dozen
witnesses to prove your infidelity, when I want them.
"'You may have guessed from what I have said thus far, that I propose to
apply for a bill of divorce at no distant day.'
"I was perfectly stupefied at this announcement. 'You surely will not
commit this great wrong, Geoffrey,' I exclaimed. 'You do not wish, nor
need me to tell you that I am innocent of the charge.'
"'No,' he said slowly, in a more softened tone, though the hard lines
around the firm mouth never relaxed, and the cold eyes regarded me with
a fixed, relentless gaze. 'No, I do not. Here, with none to overhear
us, I will tell you truly that I do not believe you guilty of this crime
which I am about to charge against you, and to prove before the world.
You were a spoiled, capricious beauty when I met with you, and I, merely
a fortune hunter. Our marriage was a fatal mistake. But you have
discharged your duties faithfully, and I know it will be a satisfaction
in the future to have this to reflect upon.
"'Do not think, though, that you can swerve me from my purpose. We are
best apart. Your life will pass quietly and happily in some grateful
retreat, all the happier for this storm that now threatens your peace.
You will have nothing to regret. The world will make the most of the
nine day's wonder, and then it will be forgotten. As for me my lot is
chosen. Wealth and power are essential to my happiness. I must be looked
up to as a person of position and influence, and I prefer to be feared
rather than loved. The wealth I shall gain with the hand of this woman,
whom fate has destined to be your successor, will place me upon the very
pinnacle of prosperity. It is a temptation too strong to be resisted.'
"'Of course you, as the victim, will cry out against the cruelty of the
act, but it will be of no avail. I grant that I am doing you an
injustice, and you will assail me with tears and entreaties, but, when
my stoical indifference renders them useless, you will threaten me with
future retribution, and cry out that God will never permit such
injustice; but I shall not pause, nor relent. I am no better, nor yet
worse, than others. Here, in a Christian community, deeds similar to
mine are perpetrated every day, and strong-handed _might_, reeking with
crime, flaunts its purple and fine linen in the high places of the
earth, while persecuted and down-trodden innocence creeps away to hide
its sorrows in the grave. It is the way of the world, and I choose to
follow no other leader.'
"'But the child, Geoffrey,' I gasped, 'my precious child; only let me
take her with me, give me her company in my exile, and I will do all you
would have me.'
"'No,' he insisted, sternly. 'She is my daughter, and I prefer to have
her brought up under my own immediate supervision. I wish to make a lady
of Miss Westbourne, and I do not consider you a proper person to be
entrusted with the charge.'
"'And you would rob a mother of her only child? God has forgotten me, or
he would surely punish such iniquity!'
"I could say no more; my strength failed me; the room grew dark, and I
fell forward at the feet of my enemy.
"It was weeks before I was again able to leave my room. During this time
I pondered deeply upon the course which it was best to pursue. I was
without money or friends, and, therefore, utterly unable to help myself.
I had always been a proud, independent girl, generally more envied and
admired than loved. I had not cared to make many friends, and now I had
none to turn to in this emergency. I felt completely crushed and
heart-broken. Meanwhile, my husband took care to inform me that his
feelings remained unchanged, and that he was still firm in his
resolution to rid himself of me. I now learned that he had employed
legal advice in the matter. As he had said, he would not scruple at the
means to accomplish his object.
"I thought of all this till my brain grew dizzy, and my heart ached with
its weight of woe. At last I determined to leave the place where I had
endured so much misery. I made a few preparations; knelt and asked God
to forgive me if I was doing wrong, and turned upon the threshold of my
chamber to give it a last look upon earth.
"Everything looked quiet and peaceful, as if this was the abode of
contentment. I could not repress a sigh, and my eyes were blinded with
tears, as I turned to go into the nursery.
"'Jane, go to your supper,' I said, authoritatively, to the servant, who
sat rocking the child's cradle. The girl looked up sullenly, and I think
she suspected at once my design. My heart sank within me as I moved
forward to the side of the unconscious little one.
"'Shure,' said the girl, eyeing me narrowly, 'you'll be after finding it
warm here with that great shawl around you. It looks better for
travelin' than a lady's parlor, and would be more becoming to the likes
of me, than your own illegant shoulders.'
"It was true. I was detected. Was there no hope?
"I grew desperate, for I knew this would all be repeated to her master
in the morning. This girl was nothing but a well-paid spy upon his
wife's actions.
"I became indignant as hope fled. 'Did you hear me?' I commanded. 'Go
down stairs to your supper, immediately. I wish to be left alone with my
daughter.'
"Instantly the expression of her face changed to one of cringing
submission, and she rose and dropped a little deprecatory curtesy.
"'Indeed, ma'am, I've had me tay. Ann brought it up, for I takes me
meals here now, accordin' to the masters' orders. Please, ma'am, shall I
take away the shawl, and fetch you the one you always wear?'
"'No, stay where you are,' I said, sinking into a chair, and dropping my
head into my hands to hide my disappointment from the keen eyes that
watched me.
"Presently there was a kind of gasping, strangling sound from the
cradle. The girl sprang forward with a sudden cry of fear.
"I was beside her in an instant. The child was in convulsions.
"Then followed a scene of wild confusion. Every thing was immediately
done for the little sufferer that could be thought of, in the moment of
terror, and the best medical advice called in.
"But our efforts were unavailing. When the gray morning light stole in
at the window, little Lina lay like a waxen lily, and her spirit had
returned to Him who gave it. While I, her unhappy mother, could not
grieve now that this was so, but rather felt thankful that she was
sheltered in the loving arms of the Good Shepherd. For her there was no
more sorrow, nor crying, neither was there any more pain.
"When the funeral rites were over, and I could think calmly, continued
the lady, I realized how this child's loss would affect my future. I had
now no object to strive for. Had my little Lina lived, God only knows
how all this would have ended. I could never have given her up to the
father who did not love her. I would have struggled desperately for my
child while life lasted. For myself, I cared not. I had thought that
night, when my innocent darling was so suddenly taken from me, of
fleeing away with her to some place of safety, until this storm had
passed, but now that she was no more, I had no fears.
"I knew, though, that a change must come soon. My husband was resolute
and never abandoned a purpose once formed. I was fully aware that I need
not expect any mercy at his hands, neither that our mutual loss would
soften his heart. It had, indeed, quite a contrary effect.
"'There is now no obstacle to a separation,' he said, once, speaking of
our differences. 'We have now no longer any interest in common. If you
will go your way, quietly and peaceably, I will provide for your wants,
by settling a life-long annuity upon you. Of course this sum would not
be large, for you will not require a great deal to sustain you in
comparative comfort. Now, that you have no means of your own, of course
you must expect to live in a different manner from that to which you
have been accustomed. And a divorced woman will not be expected to make
a very lavish display either. I trust that your own good sense will
teach you the necessity of living in as retired a manner as possible.
Furthermore, I shall expressly stipulate that you remove to a
considerable distance from your former home. I do not wish any fresh
scandal to give the gossips a continual feast. If you submit to my
conditions we can effect this quietly. If not, then it is war between
us.'
"'And a court of justice to decide for the right,' I added.
"'Justice!' he sneered. 'You are old enough to realize that it is but an
empty name. What could a defenceless woman, without means to help
herself, do against a man of my wealth and standing. You can effect
nothing by braving me. Look at this proposition, as coolly as possible,
and reflect well before you decide upon anything permanently. It can not
be that you have more affection for me than I for you, for I am sensible
that my course has not been such as would be naturally expected to win a
woman's regard. However, I do not value your opinion in the least, so
that fact does not annoy as much as you might think. It is true, I might
be more polite in stating the case, but you will agree with me that I
put the facts plainly enough for your understanding.'
"'I would further advise you to proceed as I have proposed, simply from
a wish to spare your feelings. I believe you to be an honest woman, and
I should dislike to be obliged to attack your character in public. If
you were to go away, of your own accord, to some quiet place, I think
you would find the change agreeable. You would, of course, resume your
maiden name, and nobody, unless you chose to inform them, could, by any
possibility, become aware of your former history. I would then place in
the hands of my lawyer, and subject to your disposal, a sum which I
would set aside for your own use, giving you a yearly income of five
hundred dollars. You could live plainly, but comfortably on this sum.'
"'Hush!' I commanded. 'Geoffrey Westbourne, how dare you add insult to
injury? You have spent, to your own knowledge, a large fortune of mine.
I blush to think that I have ever called you husband, when you offer
this last indignity to the daughter of Wilbour Hardyng. You have already
said more than enough upon this subject. We will dismiss it if you
please.'
"'Very well,' he replied, 'I will leave you to think over it at your
leisure. Good-bye for the present. I leave, to-day, for a neighboring
city, where I shall remain a week, at least.'
"The good-bye, thus carelessly spoken, was destined to be a final one.
When Geoffrey Westbourne again returned to his home, I was not there to
receive him. I never looked upon his face but once again. I took with me
all of my clothing, and the Hardyng plate and jewels, which were my own
exclusive property. I had also a small sum of money to bear my expenses.
"My husband never sought to learn my whereabouts, content that I should
have given him the advantage he desired. After a sufficient length of
time had elapsed, he obtained a divorce on the ground of desertion, and
married the woman he had determined should be his. They seemed happy to
all outward appearances, and lived in absolute splendor, such as their
united wealth enabled them.
"I had removed to a distant city, where none recognized in the sable
clad widow, the former brilliant belle and heiress. I once visited my
old home and saw them together; and he, the false one, smiled fondly
upon the usurper of my rights. Then I crept away, weary of life, to this
secluded spot, to pass the remainder of my days, where there was nothing
to remind me of what I once had been.'
"My darling, have I saddened you with my melancholy story?" she asked,
looking down fondly into the tear wet eyes of the young girl who had
come and knelt beside her. Clemence could not trust her voice to speak,
and the proud woman clasped her closer, as they mingled their tears
together. "How meet," said the girl at last, softly rising, "should we,
who have suffered, be united by a bond of affection and sympathy!"