CHAPTER XXVIII
A CONFESSION
The summer day was near its death when Colonel Aubrey rode up the statelyavenue, whose cool green arches were slowly filling with shadows. Fasteninghis spirited horse to the iron post, he ascended the marble steps, and Johnreceived his card, and ushered him into the front parlour. The next momentIrene stood at the door; he turned his head, and they were face to faceonce more.
Never had her extraordinary beauty so stirred his heart; a faint flushtinged his cheek, but he bowed frigidly, and haughtily his words broke thesilence.
"You sent for me, Miss Huntingdon, and I obeyed your command. Nothing lesswould have brought me to your presence."
She crossed the room and stood before him, holding out both hands, whileher scarlet lips fluttered perceptibly. Instead of receiving the hands hedrew back a step, and crossed his arms proudly over his chest. She raisedher fascinating eyes to his, folded her palms together, and, pressing themto her heart, said, slowly and distinctly--
"I heard that you were ordered to Virginia, to the post of danger; andknowing to what risks you will be exposed, I wished to see you at leastonce more in this world. Perhaps the step I am taking may be condemned bysome as a deviation from the delicacy of my sex--I trust I am not wantingin proper appreciation of what is due to my own self-respect--but thefeelings which I have crushed back so long now demand utterance. Russell, Ihave determined to break the seal of many years' silence--to roll away thestone from the sepulchre--to tell you all. I feel that you and I mustunderstand each other before we part for all time, and, therefore, I sentfor you."
She paused, drooping her head, unable to meet his searching, steady blackeyes riveted upon hers; and, drawing his tall athletic figure to its utmostheight, he asked defiantly--
"You sent for me through compassionate compunctions, then--intending, atthe close, to be magnanimous, and, in lieu of disdain, tell me that youpity me?"
"Pity you? No, Russell; I do not pity you."
"It is well. I neither deserve nor desire it."
"What motive do you suppose prompted me to send for you on the eve of yourdeparture?"
"I am utterly at a loss to conjecture. I once thought you too generous towish to inflict pain unnecessarily on any one; but God knows this interviewis inexpressibly painful to me."
A numbing suspicion crossed her mind, blanching lip and cheek to the hue ofdeath, and hardening her into the old statue-like expression. Had he,indeed, ceased to love her? Had Salome finally won her place in his heart?He saw, without comprehending, the instantaneous change which swept overher features, and regarded her with mingled impatience and perplexity.
"If such be the truth, Colonel Aubrey, the interview is ended."
He bowed, and turned partially away, but paused irresolute, chained by thatelectrical pale face, which no man, woman, or child ever looked at withoutemotion.
"Before we part, probably for ever, I should like to know why you sent forme."
"Do you remember that, one year ago to-night, we sat on the steps of thefactory, and you told me of the feeling you had cherished for me from yourboyhood?"
"It was a meeting too fraught with pain and mortification to be soonforgotten."
"I believe you thought me cold, heartless, and unfeeling then?"
"There was no room to doubt it. Your haughty coldness carried its owninterpretation."
"Because I knew that such was the harsh opinion you had entertained fortwelve months, I sought this opportunity to relieve myself of an unjustimputation. If peace had been preserved, and you had always remainedquietly here, I should never have undeceived you--for the same imperativereasons, the same stern necessity, which kept me silent on the night towhich I allude, would have sealed my lips through life. But all things arechanged; you are going into the very jaws of death, with what result nohuman foresight can predict; and now, after long suffering, I feel that Ihave earned and may claim the right to speak to you of that which I havealways expected to bury with me in my grave."
Again her crowned head bowed itself.
Past bitterness and wounded pride were instantly forgotten; hope kindled inhis dark, stern face, a beauty that rarely dwelt there, and, throwing downhis hat, he stepped forward and took her folded hands in his strong grasp.
"Irene, do you intend me to understand--are you willing that I shallbelieve that, after all, I have an interest in your heart--that I am moreto you than you ever before deigned to let me know? If it, indeed, be so,oh! give me the unmistakable assurance."
Her lips moved; he stooped his haughty head to catch the low flutteringwords.
"You said that night: 'I could forgive your father all! all if I knew thathe had not so successfully hardened, closed your heart against me.' Forgivehim, Russell. You never can know all that you have been to me from mychildhood. Only God, who sees my heart, knows what suffering our longalienation has cost me."
An instant he wavered, his strong frame quivered, and then he caught herexultingly in his arms, resting her head upon his bosom, leaning hisswarthy hot cheek on hers, cold and transparent as alabaster.
"At last I realize the one dream of my life! I hold you to my heart,acknowledged all my own! Who shall dare dispute the right your lips havegiven me? Hatred is powerless now; none shall come between me and my own. OIrene! my beautiful darling! not all my ambitious hopes, not all the futureholds, not time, nor eternity, could purchase the proud, inexpressible joyof this assurance."
"Instead of cherishing your affection for me, you struggled against it withall the energy of your character. I have seen, for some time, that you werestriving to crush it out--to forget me entirely."
"I do not deny it; and certainly you ought not to blame me. You kept me ata distance with your chilling, yet graceful, fascinating _hauteur_. I hadnothing to hope--everything to suffer. I diligently set to work to expelyou utterly from my thoughts; and I tell you candidly, I endeavoured tolove another, who was brilliant, and witty, and universally admired. Buther fitful, stormy, exacting temperament was too much like my own to suitme. I tried faithfully to become attached to her, intending to make her mywife, but I failed signally. My heart clung stubbornly to its old worship;my restless, fiery spirit could find no repose, no happiness, save in thepurity, the profound marvellous calm of your nature. You became the synonymof peace, rest; and, because you gave me no friendly word or glance,locking your passionless face against me, I grew savage toward you. Did youbelieve that I would marry Salome?"
"No! I had faith that, despite your angry efforts, your heart would be trueto me."
"Why did you inflict so much pain on us both, when a word would haveexplained all? When the assurance you have given me to-day would havesweetened the past years of trial?"
"Because I knew it would not have that effect. A belief of my indifferencesteeled you against me--nerved you to endurance. But a knowledge of thetruth would have increased your acrimony of feeling toward him whom youregarded as the chief obstacle, and this, at all hazards, I was resolved toavoid. Because I realized so fully the necessity of estrangement, I shouldnever have acquainted you with my own feelings had I not known that a long,and perhaps final, separation now stretches before us. In the painfulcourse which duty imposed on me, I have striven to promote your ultimatehappiness, rather than my own."
"Irene, how can you persuade yourself that it is your duty to obey anunjust and tyrannical decree, which sacrifices the happiness of two to theunreasonable vindictiveness of one?"
"Russell, do not urge me; it is useless. Spare me the pain of repeatedrefusals, and be satisfied with what I have given you. Believe that myheart is, and ever will be, yours entirely, though my hand you can neverclaim. I know what I owe my father, and I will pay to the last iota; and Iknow as well what I owe myself, and, therefore, I shall live true to myfirst and only love, and die Irene Huntingdon. More than this you have noright to ask--I no right to grant. Be patient, Russell; be generous."
"Do you intend to send me from you? To meet me henc
eforth as a stranger?"
"Circumstances, which I cannot control, make it necessary."
"At least you will let me hear from you sometimes? You will give me theprivilege of writing to you?"
"Impossible, Russell; do not ask that of me."
"Oh, Irene! you are cruel! Why withhold that melancholy comfort from me?"
"Simply for the reason that it would unavoidably prove a source of pain toboth. I judge you by myself. I want neither your usefulness in life normine impaired by continual weak repining. If your life is spared I shallanxiously watch your career, rejoicing in all your honours, and your nobleuse of the talents which God gave you for the benefit of your race and theadvancement of truth."
"I am not as noble as you think me; my ambition is not as unselfish as yousuppose. Under your influence other aims and motives might possess me."
"You mistake your nature. Your intellect and temperament stamp you one ofthe few who receive little impression from extraneous influences; and it isbecause of this stern, obstinate individuality of character that I hope anextended sphere of usefulness for you, if you survive this war. Our countrywill demand your services, and I shall be proud and happy in the knowledgethat you are faithfully and conscientiously discharging the duties of astatesman."
He shook his head sadly, placing his palm under her chin, and tenderlyraising the face, in order to scan it fully.
"Irene, give me a likeness of yourself as you stand now; or, if you preferit, have a smaller one photographed to-morrow from that portrait on thewall, and send it to me by express. I shall be detained in Richmond severaldays, and it will reach me safely. Do not, I beg of you, refuse me this. Itis the only consolation I can have, and God knows it is little enough! Oh,Irene, think of my loneliness, and grant this last request!"
His large brilliant eyes were full of tears, the first she had ever seendim their light, and, moved by the grief which so transformed hislineaments she answered hastily--
"Of course, if you desire it so earnestly, though it were much better thatyou had nothing to remind you of me."
"Will you have it taken to-morrow?"
"Yes."
She covered her face with her hands for some seconds, as if striving toovercome some impulse; then, turning quickly to him, she wound her armsabout his neck, and drew his face down to hers.
"Oh, Russell! Russell! I want your promise that you will so live and governyourself that, if your soul is summoned from the battlefield, you canconfront Eternity without a single apprehension. If you must yield up yourlife for freedom, I want the assurance that you have gone to your finalhome at peace with God; that you wait there for me; and that, when my workis done, and I, too, lay my weary head to rest, we shall meet soul to soul,and spend a blessed eternity together, where strife and separation areunknown."
His black locks lay upon her forehead as he struggled for composure, and,after a moment, he answered solemnly--
"I will try, my darling."
She put into his hand the Bible, which she had carefully marked and whichbore on the blank leaf, in her handwriting, "Colonel Russell Aubrey, withthe life-long prayers of his best friend."
The shadow fled from her countenance, which grew radiant as some fleecyvapour suddenly smitten with a blaze of sunlight, and clearer and sweeterthan chiming bells her voice rang through the room.
"Thank God for that promise! I shall lean my heart upon it till the lastpulsations are stilled in my coffin. And now I will keep you no longer fromyour regiment. I know that you have many duties there to claim your time.Turn your face toward the window; I want to look at it, to be able to keepits expression always before me."
She put up her waxen hand, brushed the hair from his pale, dome-like brow,and gazed earnestly at the noble features, which even the most fastidiouscould find no cause to carp at.
"Of old, when Eurystheus threatened Athens, Macaria, in order to save thecity and the land from invasion and subjugation, willingly devoted herselfa sacrifice upon the altar of the gods. Ah, Russell! that were an easytask, in comparison with the offering I am called upon to make. I cannot,like Macaria, by self-immolation, redeem my country--from that greatprivilege I am debarred--but I yield up more than she ever possessed. Igive my all on earth--my father and yourself--to our beloved and sufferingcountry. My God! accept the sacrifice, and crown the South a sovereign,independent nation!"
She smothered a moan, and her head sank on his shoulder; but lifting itinstantly, with her fathomless affection beaming in her face, she added--
"To the mercy and guidance of Almighty God I commit you, dear Russell,trusting all things in His hands. May He shield you from suffering,strengthen you in the hour of trial, and reunite us eternally in Hiskingdom, is, and ever shall be, my constant prayer. Good-bye, Russell. Doyour duty nobly; win deathless glory on the battlefield in defence of oursacred cause; and remember that your laurels will be very precious to mylonely heart."
He watched the wonderful loveliness of face and form, till his pride wasutterly melted, and, sinking on his knees, he threw one arm around herwaist exclaiming--
"O Irene, you have conquered! With God's grace I will so spend the residueof my life as to merit your love, and the hope of reunion beyond thegrave."
She laid her hand lightly on his bowed head as he knelt beside her, and, ina voice that knew no faltering, breathed out a fervent prayer, full ofpathos and sublime faith--invoking blessings upon him--life-longguardianship, and final salvation through Christ. The petition ended, sherose, smiling through the mist that gathered over her eyes, and he said--
"I now ask something which I feel that you will not refuse me. Electra willprobably soon come home, and she may be left alone in the world. Will yousometimes go to her for my sake, and give her your friendship?"
"I will, Russell, for her sake, as well as for yours. She shall be the onlysister I have ever known."
She drew his hand to her lips, but he caught it away, and pressed a lastkiss upon them.
"Good-bye, my own darling! my life angel!"
She heard his step across the hall; a moment after, the tramp of his horse,as he galloped down the avenue, and she knew that the one happy hour of herlife had passed--that the rent sepulchre of silence must be re-sealed.
Pressing her hand over her desolate heart, she murmured sadly--
"Thy will, not mine, O Father! Give me strength to do my work; enable me tobe faithful even to the bitter end."