XX.
THE DEVIL'S CAULDRON.
Frank, being left alone, sat down with the letter Doris had given him.These are the words he read:
"DEAR MR. ETHERIDGE:
"I must ask you to walk by my house as early as nine o'clock to-morrowmorning. If, having read this letter, you still feel ready to meet fateat my side, you will enter and tell me so. But if the horror that hasrested upon my life falls with this reading upon yours, then pass by onthe other side, and I will understand your verdict and accept it.
"It was at a very early age that I first felt the blight which hadfallen upon my life with the scar which disfigures one side of my face.Such expressions as 'Poor dear! what a pity!'--'She would be verybeautiful if it were not for that,' make a deep impression upon achild's mind, especially if that child has a proud and sensitive nature,eager for admiration and shrinking from pity. Emma, who is only a yearyounger than myself, seemed to me quite an enviable being before I knewwhat the word envy meant, or why I felt so hot and angry when theneighbors took her up and caressed her, while they only cast looks ofcompassion at me. I hated her and did not know it; I hated theneighbors, and I hated the places where they met, and the home where Iwas born. I only loved my mother; perhaps, because she alone never spokeof my misfortune, and when she kissed me did not take pains to choosethat side of my face which was without blemish. O my mother! if she hadlived! But when I was just fifteen, and was feeling even more keenlythan ever what it was to have just missed being the beauty of the town,she died, and I found myself left with only a stern and cruellyabstracted father for guardian, and for companion a sister, who in thosedays was a girl so merry by nature, and so full of play and sport, thatshe was a constant source of vexation to me, who hated mirth, and feltaggrieved by a cheerfulness I could not share. These passions ofjealousy and pride did not lessen with me as I slowly ripened intowomanhood. All our family have been victims of their own indomitablewill, and even Emma, gentle as you see her to be now, used to haveviolent gusts of temper when she was crossed in her plans or pleasures.I never flashed out into bitter speech as she did, or made a noise whenI was angry, but I had that slow fire within me which made me perfectlyinexorable when I had once made up my mind to any course--no one, noteven my father or my sister, having the least influence over me. And soit was that those who knew me began to dread me, even while they wereforced to acknowledge that I possessed certain merits of heart andunderstanding. For the disappointment which had soured my dispositionhad turned me towards study for relief, and the determination to bebrilliant, if I could not be beautiful, came with my maturity, and savedme, perhaps, from being nothing but a burden to my family and friends.
"It was Mr. Lothrop, the Episcopalian minister, who first gave me thisturn toward serious pursuits. He was a good man, who had known mymother, and after her death he used to come to the house, and finding memoping in a corner, while Emma made the room gay with her talk, he woulddraw me out with wonderful stories of women who had become the centre ofa great society by the brilliance of their attainments and the sparkleof their wit. Once he called me beautiful, and when he saw the deepflush, which I could not subdue, mantle my cheeks and agitate my wholebody, he took me very kindly by the hand, and said:
"'Hermione, you have splendid powers. Perhaps God allowed a littledefect to fall upon your beauty, in order to teach you the value of thesuperior faculties with which you are endowed. You can be a fine, grandwoman, if you will.'
"Alas! he did not know that one unconscious tribute to my personalattractions would just then have gone much farther with me than anyamount of appreciation for my mental abilities. Yet his words had theireffect, and from that moment I began to study--not as my father did,with an absorbed, passionate devotion to one line of thought; thatseemed to me narrow and demoralizing, perhaps because almost everydisappointment or grief incident to those days could be traced to myfather's abstraction to everything disconnected with his laboratory. IfI wished to go to the city, or extend my knowledge of the world bytravel, it was: 'I have an experiment on hand; I cannot leave thelaboratory.' If I wished a new gown, or a set of books, it was: 'I amnot rich, and I must use all my spare means in buying the apparatus Ineed, or the chemicals which are necessary to the discoveries I am inthe way of making.' Yet none of those discoveries or experiments everresulted in anything further than the acquiring on his part of a purelylocal fame for learning. Therefore no special branch for me, but ageneral culture which would fit me to shine in any society it mighthenceforth be my good fortune to enter.
"My father might brood over his books, and bend his back over the retortand crucible; my sister might laugh and attract the liking of a crowd offoolish heads, but I would be the Sevigny, the Rambouillet of my time,and by the eloquence of my conversation and the grace of my manner winfor myself that superiority among women which nature had designed forme, but of which cruel fate had robbed me, even before I knew its worth.
"You will say these are great hopes for a village girl who had nevertravelled beyond her native town, and who knew the great world onlythrough the medium of books. But is it not in villages and quietsequestered places that lofty ambitions are born? Is it the city boy whobecomes the President of our United States, or the city girl whostartles the world with her talent as poet, artist, or novelist?
"I read, and learned the world, and felt that I knew my place in it.When my training should be complete, when I had acquired all that mybooks and the companionship of the best minds in Marston could teach,then I would go abroad, and in the civilization of other lands completethe education which had now become with me a passion, because in it Isaw the stepping-stone to the eminence I sought.
"I speak plainly; it is necessary. You must know what was passing in mymind during my girlhood's years, or you will not understand me or thetemptations which befell me. Besides, in writing thus I am preparingmyself for the revelation of a weakness I have shrunk till now fromacknowledging. It must be made. I cannot put it off any longer. I mustspeak of Dr. Sellick, and explain if possible what he gradually becameto me in those lonely and studious years.
"I had known him from a child, but I did not begin to think of him tillhe began to visit our house. He was a student then, and he naturallytook a great interest in chemistry. My father's laboratory wasconvenient, well-stocked with apparatus, and freely opened to him. To myfather's laboratory he accordingly came every day when he was in town,till it began to be quite a matter of course to see him there.
"I was very busy that summer, and for some time looked upon this only asa habit on his part, and so took little heed of his presence. But oneday, being weary with the philosophy I had been studying, I took fromthe shelves a book of poems, and sitting down in the dimmest corner ofour stiff old parlor, I began to read some impassioned verses, which,before I knew it, roused my imagination and inflamed my heart to a pointwhich made it easy for any new romantic impression to be made upon me.
"At this instant fate and my ever-cruel destiny brought into mypresence Edgar Sellick. He had been like myself hard at work, and hadbecome weary, and anxious perhaps for a change, or, as I am nowcompelled to think, eager to talk of one whose very existence I wastempted to forget when she was, as then, away from home. He had comeinto the room where I was, and was standing, flushed and handsome, inthe one bright streak of sunlight that flashed at that moment over thefloor. I had always liked him, and thought him the only real gentlemanin town, but something quite new in my experience made my heart swell asI met his eyes that day, and though I will not call it love (not now),it was something which greatly moved me and made me feel that in thegaze and seeming interest of this man I saw the true road to happinessand to the only life which would ever really satisfy me. For, let it bemy excuse, under all my vanity, a vanity greater for the seeming checkit had received, dwelt an ardent and irrepressible desire for affection,such affection as I had never received since my dying mother laid hertrembling hand upon my head and bade me trust the good God for ahappiness I had never pos
sessed. My disfigurement owed its deepest stingto the fact, never revealed to others before, and scarcely acknowledgedto myself then, that it stood in the way, as I thought, to my ever beingpassionately beloved. When, therefore, I saw the smile on Dr. Sellick'sface, and realized that he was looking for me, I rose up with new hopesin my heart and a new brightness in my life.
"But we said nothing, he or I, beyond the merest commonplaces, and hadmy powers of observation been as keen then as they are now, since a newlight has been shed upon those days, I would have perceived that his eyedid not brighten when it rested upon me, save when some chance mentionwas made of Emma, and of the pleasures she was enjoying abroad. But nodoubts came to me at that time. Because my heart was warm I took it forgranted that his was so also, and not dreaming of any other reason forhis attentions than the natural one of his desiring my society for itsown sake, I gradually gave myself up to a feeling of which it is shamenow for me to speak, but which, as it was the origin of all my troubles,I must compel myself to acknowledge here in all its force and fervor.
"The fact that he never uttered a word of love or showed me anyattention beyond that of being constantly at my side, did not serve toalarm or even dispirit me. I knew him to have just started upon hiscareer as physician, and also knew him to be proud, and was quitecontent to cherish my hopes and look towards a future that hadunaccountably brightened into something very brilliant indeed.
"It was while matters were in this condition that Emma came home fromher trip. I remember the occasion well, and how pretty she looked in herforeign gowns. You, who have only seen her under a shadow, cannotimagine how pleasing she was, fresh from her happy experiences abroad,and an ocean trip, which had emphasized the roses on her cheek and thebrightness in her eyes. But though I saw it all and felt that I couldnever compete with the gaiety which was her charm, I did not feel thatold sickly jealousy of her winsome ways which once distorted her figurein my eyes, nor did I any longer hate her laugh or shrink from her merrybanter. For I had my own happiness, as I thought, and could afford to belenient towards a gay young thing who had no secret hope like mine tofill her heart and make it too rich with joy for idle mirth.
"It was a gay season for humble little Marston, and various picnicsfollowed by a ball in Hartford promised festivities enough to keep uswell alive. I did not care for festivities, but I did care for Dr.Sellick, and picnics and balls offered opportunities beyond those givenby his rather commonplace visits to the house. I therefore lookedforward to the picnics at the seashore with something like expectancy,and as proof of my utter blindness to the real state of affairs, itnever even entered into my head that it would be the scene of his firstmeeting with Emma after an absence of many months.
"Nor did any behavior on his part at this picnic enlighten me as to histrue feelings, or the direction in which they ran. He greeted Emma in mypresence, and the unusual awkwardness with which he took her hand toldme nothing, though it may have whispered something to her. I onlynoticed that he had the most refined features and the most intellectualhead of any one present, and was very happy thereat, and disposed toaccord him an interview if he showed any inclination to draw me awayfrom the rest of the merry-makers. But he did not, though he strolledseveral times away by himself; and once I saw him chatting with Emma;but this fact made no impression upon me and my Fool's Paradise remainedstill intact.
"But that night on reaching home I felt that something was going wrong.Aunt Lovell was then with us, and I saw her cast a glance of dismay uponme as I entered the room where she and Emma had been closeted together.Emma, too, looked out of sorts, and hardly spoke to me when I passed herin the hall. Indeed, that quick temper of which I have already spokenwas visible in her eyes, and if I had opened my own lips I am sure shewould have flashed out with some of her bitter speeches. But I wasignorant of having given her any cause for anger; so, thinking she wasjealous of the acquirements which I had made in her absence, and theadvantages they now gave me in any gathering where cultured people cametogether, I hurried by her in some disdain, and in the quiet of my ownroom regained the equanimity my aunt's look and Emma's manifestill-feeling towards me had for a moment shaken.
"It was the last time I was to encounter anger in that eye. When I mether next morning I discovered that some great change had passed overher. The high spirits I had always secretly deprecated were gone, and intheir place behold an indescribable gentleness of manner which has neversince forsaken her.
"But this was not all; her attitude towards me was different. Fromindifference it had budded into love; and if one can become devoted in anight, then was it devotion that she showed in every look and every wordshe bestowed upon me from that day. The occasion for this change I didnot then know; when I did, a change passed over me also.
"Meantime a grave event took place. I was out walking, and my path tookme by the church. I mean the one that stands by itself on the top of thehill. Perhaps you have been there, perhaps you have not. It is alonesome-looking structure, but it has pleasant surroundings, while theview of the sea which you get from its rear is superb. I often used togo there, just for the breath of salt-water that seemed to hover aboutthe place, and as there was a big flat stone in the very spot mostfavorable for observation, I was accustomed to sit there for hours withmy book or pencil for company.
"Had Edgar Sellick loved me he would have been acquainted with myhabits. This is apparent to me now, but then I seemed to see nothingbeyond my own wishes and hopes. But this does not explain what happenedto me there. I was sitting on the stone of which I have spoken, and waslooking at the long line of silver light on the horizon which we callthe sea, when I suddenly heard voices. Two men were standing on theother side of the church, engaged, in all probability, in gazing at thelandscape, but talking on a subject very remote from what they sawbefore them. I heard their words distinctly. They were these:
"'I tell you she is beautiful.'
"I did not recognize the voice making use of this phrase, but the onethat answered was well known to me, and its tones went through me like aknife.
"'Oh, yes, if you only see one side of her face.'
"They were speaking of me, and the last voice, careless, indifferent,almost disdainful as it was, was that of Edgar Sellick.
"I quailed as at a mortal blow, but I did not utter a sound. I do notknow as I even moved; but that only shows the control a womanunconsciously holds over herself. For nothing short of a frenzied screamcould have voiced the agony I felt, or expressed the sudden revolt whichtook place within me, sickening me at once with life, past, present, andfuture. Not till they had strolled away did I rise and dash down thehill into the wood that lies at its foot, but when I felt myself aloneand well shielded from the view of any chance observer, I groaned againand again, and wrung my hands in a misery to which I can do but littlejustice now. I had been thrust so suddenly out of paradise. I had beenso sure of _his_ regard, _his_ love. The scar which disfigured me inother eyes had been, as I thought, no detriment in his. He loved me, andsaw nothing in me but what was consistent with that love. And now Iheard him with my own ears speak contemptuously of that scar. All that Ihad hoped, all that I had confided in, was gone from me in an instant,and I felt myself toppling into a misery I could neither contemplate norfathom. For an hour I walked the paths of that small wood, communingwith myself; then I took my resolve. Life, which had brought me nothingbut pain and humiliation, was not worth living. The hopes I hadindulged, the love in which I had believed, had proved a mockery, andthe shame which their destruction brought was worse than death, and soto be more shunned than death. I was determined to die.
"The means were ready to my hand. Further on in that very wood I knew ofa pool. It was a deep, dark, deadly place, as its name of Devil'sCauldron betokens, and in it I felt I could most fitly end the life thatwas dear to no one. I began to stray towards that place. As I went Ithought of home, but with no feelings of longing or compunction. Emmamight be kind, had been kind for the last day or so, but Emma did notlove me, would not
sacrifice anything for me, would not grieve, save inthe decent way her sisterhood would naturally require. As for my father,he would feel the interruption it would cause in his experiments, butthat would not last long, and in a few days he would be again in hisbeloved laboratory. No one, not a single being, unless it was dear AuntLovell, would sincerely mourn me or sigh over the death of the poor girlwith a scar. Edgar Sellick might raise his eyebrows in some surprise,and Edgar Sellick should know what a careless word could do. I had apencil and paper in my pocket, and I meant to use them. He should not gothrough life happy and careless, when a line from me would show him thatthe death of one who had some claims upon his goodness, lay at his door.
"The sight of the dim, dark pool did not frighten me from theseintentions. I was in that half-maddened state of disgust and shame whichmakes the promise of any relief look inviting and peaceful. I loved thedepth of that cool, clear water. I saw in it rest, peace, oblivion. HadI not had that letter to write I would have tasted that rest and peace,and these words would never have come to your eyes. But the few minutesI took to write some bitter and incoherent lines to Dr. Sellick saved mefrom the doom I contemplated. Have I reason to be thankful it was so?To-morrow morning will tell me.
"The passion which guided my pencil was still in my face when I laid thepaper down on the bank and placed a stone above it. The eyes which sawthose evidences of passion were doubtless terrified by them, for as Ipassed to the brink of the pool and leaned over it I felt a frenziedgrasp on my arm, and turning, I met the look of Emma fixed upon me inmortal terror and apprehension.
"'What are you going to do?' she cried. 'Why are you leaning over theDevil's Cauldron like that?'
"I had not wished to see her or to say good-by to any one. But now, thatby some unaccountable chance she had come upon me, in my desperation Iwould give her one kiss before I went to my doom.
"'Emma,' I exclaimed, meeting her look without any sharp sense of shame,'life is not as promising for me as it is for you; life is not promisingfor me at all, so I seek to end it.'
"The horror in her eyes deepened. The grasp on my arm became like thatof a man.
"'You are mad,' she cried. 'You do not know what you are doing. Whathas happened to drive you to a deed like this? I--I thought--' and hereshe stammered and lost for the moment her self-control--'that you seemedvery happy last night.'
"'I was,' I cried. 'I did not know then what a blighted creature I was.I thought some one might be brought to love me, even with thisfrightful, hideous scar on my face. But I know now that I am mistaken;that no man will ever overlook this; that I must live a lonely life, asuffering life; and I have not the strength or the courage to do so.I--I might have been beautiful,' I cried, 'but----'
"Her face, suddenly distorted by the keenest pain, drew my attention,even at that moment of immeasurable woe, and made me stop and say inless harsh and embittered tones:
"'No one will miss me very much, so do not seek to stop me.'
"Her head fell forward, her eyes sought the ground, but she did notloosen her hold on my arm. Instead of that, it tightened till it feltlike a band of steel.
"'You have left a letter there,' she murmured, allowing her eyes towander fearfully towards it. 'Was it to me? to our father?'
"'No,' I returned.
"She shuddered, but her eyes did not leave the spot. Suddenly her lipsgave a low cry; she had seen the word _Sellick_.
"'Yes,' I answered in response to what I knew were her thoughts. 'It isthat traitor who is killing me. He has visited me day by day, he hasfollowed me from place to place; he has sought me, smiled upon me, givenme every token of love save that expressed in words; and now, now I hearhim, when he does not know I am near, speak disrespectfully of my looks,of this scar, as no man who loves, or ever will love, could speak of anydefect in the woman he has courted.'
"'You did not hear aright,' came passionately from her lips. 'You aremistaken. Dr. Sellick could not so far forget himself.'
"'Dr. Sellick can and did. Dr. Sellick has given me a blow for which hisfine art of healing can find no remedy. Kiss me, Emma, kiss me, deargirl, and do not hold me so tight; see, we might tumble into the watertogether.'
"'And if we did,' she gasped, 'it would be better than letting you goalone. No, no, Hermione, you shall never plunge into that pool while Ilive to hold you back. Listen to me, listen. Am I nothing to you? Willyou not live for me? I have been careless, I know, happy in my own hopesand pleasures, and thinking too little, oh, much too little, of thepossible griefs or disappointments of my only sister. But this shall bechanged; I promise you shall all be changed. I will live for youhenceforth; we will breathe, work, suffer, enjoy together. No sistershall be tenderer, no lover more devoted than I will be to you. If youdo not marry, then will not I. No pleasure that is denied you shall beaccepted by me. Only come away from this dark pool; quit casting thoseglances of secret longing into that gruesome water. It is too awful, tooloathsome a place to swallow so much beauty; for you are beautiful, nomatter what any one says; so beautiful that it is almost a mercy youhave some defect, or we should not dare to claim you for our own, youare so far above what any of us could hope for or expect.'
"But the bitterness that was in my soul could not be so easilyexorcised.
"'You are a good girl,' I said, 'but you cannot move me from mypurpose.' And I tried to disengage myself from her clasp.
"But the young face, the young form which I had hitherto associated onlywith what was gay, mirthful, and frivolous, met me with an aspect whichimpressed even me and made me feel it was no child I had to deal withbut a woman as strong and in a state of almost as much suffering asmyself.
"'Hermione,' she cried, 'if you throw yourself into that pool, I shallfollow you. I will not live ten minutes after you. Do you know why?Because I--_I_ caused you that scar which has been the torment of yourlife. It was when we were children--babes, and I have only known itsince last night. Auntie Lovell told me, in her sympathy for you and herdesire to make me more sisterly. The knowledge has crushed me, Hermione;it has made me hate myself and love you. Nothing I can do now can everatone for what I did then; though I was so young, it was anger that gaveme strength to deal the blow which has left this indelible mark behindit. Isn't it terrible? I the one to blame and you the one tosuffer!--But there must be no dying, Hermione, no dying, or I shall feelmyself a murderess. And you do not want to add that horror to myremorse, now that I am old enough to feel remorse, and realize yoursuffering. You will be a little merciful and live for my sake if not foryour own.'
"She was clinging to me, her face white and drawn, upturned towards minewith pitiful pleading, but I had no words with which to comfort her, norcould I feel as yet any relenting in my fixed purpose. Seeing my unmovedlook she burst into sobs, then she cried suddenly:
"'I see I must prepare to die too. But not to-day, Hermione. Wait amonth, just one month, and then if you choose to rush upon your fate, Iwill not seek to deter you, I will simply share it; but not to-day, notin this rush of maddened feeling. Life holds too much,--may yet give youtoo much, for any such reckless disregard of its prospects. Give it onechance, then, and me one chance--it is all I ask. One month of quietwaiting and then--decision.'
"I knew no month would make any difference with me, but her passionatepleading began to work upon my feelings.
"'It will be a wretched time for me,' said I, 'a purgatory which I shallbe glad to escape.'
"'But for my sake,' she murmured, 'for my sake; I am not ready to dieyet, and your fate--I have said it--shall be mine.'
"'For your sake then,' I cried, and drew back from the dangerous brinkupon which we had both been standing. 'But do not think,' I added, as wepaused some few feet away, 'that because I yield now, I will yield then.If after a month of trying to live, I find myself unable, I shall notconsult you, Emma, as to my determination, any more than I shall expectyou to embrace my doom because in the heat of your present terror youhave expressed your intention of doing so.'
"'Your fate
shall be my fate, as far as I myself can compass it,' shereiterated. And I, angry at what I thought to be an unwarrantableattempt to put a check upon me, cried out in as bitter a tone as I hadever used:
"'So be it,' and turned myself towards home."