CHAPTER VI
MASTER AND PUPIL
Day after day Electra toiled over her work. The rapidity of her progressastonished Mr. Clifton. He questioned her concerning the processes sheemployed in some of her curious combinations, but the fragmentary,abstracted nature of her conversation during the hours of instruction gavehim little satisfactory information. His interest in her increased, untilfinally it became absorbing, and he gave her all the time she could sparefrom home. The eagerness with which she listened to his directions, thefacility with which she applied his rules, fully repaid him; and from dayto day he postponed his return to the North, reluctant to leave hisindefatigable pupil. Now and then the time of departure was fixed, but ereit arrived he wavered and procrastinated.
Electra knew that his stay had been prolonged beyond his originalintention, and she dreaded the hour when she should be deprived of his aidand advice. Though their acquaintance had been so short, a strangely strongfeeling had grown up in her heart toward him; a feeling of clingingtenderness, blended with earnest and undying gratitude. She knew that heunderstood her character and appreciated her struggles, and it soothed herfierce, proud heart, in some degree to receive from him those tokens ofconstant remembrance which she so yearned to have from Russell. She felt,too, that she was not regarded as a stranger by the artist; she could seehis sad eyes brighten at her entrance, and detect the tremor in his handand voice when he spoke of going home. His health had improved, and theheat of summer had come; why did he linger? His evenings were often spentat the cottage, and even Mrs. Aubrey learned to smile at the sound of hisstep.
One morning, as Electra finished her lesson and rose to go, he said slowly,as if watching the effect of his words--
"This is the last hour I can give you. In two days I return to New York.Letters of importance came this morning; I have waited here too longalready."
"Are you in earnest this time?"
"I am; it is absolutely necessary that I should return home."
"Mr. Clifton, what shall I do without you?"
"Suppose you had never seen me?"
"Then I should not have had to lose you. Oh, sir! I need you very much."
"Electra, child, you will conquer your difficulties without assistance fromanyone. You have nothing to fear."
"Yes, I know I shall conquer at last, but the way would be so much easierif you were only with me. I shall miss you more than I can tell you."
He passed his hand over his short shining hair, and mused for a moment asif laying conflicting emotions in the balance. She heard his deep, labouredbreathing, and saw the working of the muscles in his pale face; when hespoke his voice was husky--
"You are right; you need me, and I want you always with me; we must not beparted. Electra, I say we shall not. Come to me, put your hands inmine--promise me that you will be my child, my pupil. I will take you to mymother, and we need never be separated. You require aid, such as cannot behad here; in New York you shall have all that you want. Will you come withme?"
He held her hands in a vice-like grasp, and looked pleadingly into herastonished countenance. A mist gathered before her, and she closed hereyes.
"Electra, will you come?"
She raised her bloodless face, stamped with stern resolve, and ere thewords were pronounced he read his answer in the defiant gleam of her eyes,in the hard, curved lines of the mouth.
"Mr. Clifton, I cannot go with you just now, for at present I cannot, oughtnot, to leave my aunt. Helpless as she is, it would be cruel, ungrateful todesert her; but things cannot continue this way much longer, and I promiseyou that as soon as I can I will go to you. I want to be with you; I wantsomebody to care for me, and I know you will be a kind friend to me always.Most gratefully will I accept your generous offer as soon as I feel that Ican do so."
He stooped and touched her forehead with his lips.
"My dear Electra, you are right to remain with her, but when she needs youno more I shall expect you to come to me in New York. Meantime, I shallwrite to you frequently, and supply you with such books and materials asyou require. My pupil, I long to have you in my own home. Remember, nomatter what happens, you have promised yourself to me."
"I shall not forget;" but he saw her shudder.
"Shall I speak to your aunt about this matter before I go?"
"No, it would only distress her; leave it all with me. It is late, and Imust go. Good-bye, sir."
He promised to see her again before his departure, and she walked home withher head bowed and a sharp continual pain gnawing at her heart.
In the calm, peaceful years of ordinary childhood the soul matures slowly;but a volcanic nature like Electra's, subjected to galling trials, rapidlyhardens, and answers every stroke with the metallic ring of age. Keensusceptibility to joy or pain taught her early that less impressivecharacters are years in learning, and it was lamentably true that while yeta mere girl, she suffered as acutely as a woman. Russell knew that a changehad come over his cousin, but was too constantly engaged, too entirelyabsorbed by his studies, to ask or analyse the cause. She never watched atthe gate for him now, never sprang with outstretched arms to meet him,never hung over the back of his chair and caressed his hands as formerly.When not waiting upon her aunt, she was as intent upon her books as he, andthough invariably kind and unselfish in her conduct toward him, she wasevidently constrained in his presence. As the summer wore on, Mrs. Aubrey'shealth failed rapidly, and she was confined to her couch. One morning whenMr. Campbell, the pastor, had spent some time in the sick-room praying withthe sufferer and administering the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, Electrafollowed him to the door, leaving Russell with his mother. The gentlepastor took her hand kindly, and looked at her with filling eyes.
"You think my aunt is worse?"
"Yes, my child. I think that very soon she will be with her God. She willscarcely survive till night----"
She turned abruptly from him and threw herself down across the foot of thebed, burying her face in her arms. Russell sat with his mother's hands inhis, while she turned her brown eyes toward him, and exhorted him to commithimself and his future to the hands of a merciful God. Electra was notforgotten; she advised her to go to a cousin of her mother, residing inVirginia. Long before she had written to this lady, informing her of herown feebleness and of the girl's helpless condition; and a kind answer hadbeen returned, cordially inviting the orphan to share her home, to becomean inmate of her house. Russell could take her to these relatives as soonas possible. To all this no reply was made, and, a few moments later, whenRussell kissed her tenderly and raised her pillow, she said faintly--
"If I could look upon your face once more, my son, it would not be hard todie. Let me see you in heaven, my dear, dear boy." These were the lastwords, and soon after a stupor fell upon her. Hour after hour passed; Mrs.Campbell came and sat beside the bed, and the three remained silent, nowand then lifting bowed heads to look at the sleeper. The autumn day diedslowly as the widow, and when the clock dirged out the sunset hour Russellrose, and, putting back the window curtains, stooped and laid his faceclose to his mother's. No pulsation stirred the folds over the heart, orthe soft bands of hair on the blue-veined temples; the still mouth hadbreathed its last sigh, and the meek brown eyes had opened in eternity.
The day bore her away on its wings, and as Russell touched the icy cheek adespairing cry rolled through the silent cottage--
"Oh, mother! my own precious dead mother!"
Falling on his knees, he laid his head on her pillow, and when kindfriendly hands bore her into the adjoining room, he knelt there still,unconscious of what passed, knowing only that the keenest of many blows hadfallen, that the last and bitterest vial of sorrows had been emptied.
At the window stood Electra, pressing her face against the frame, lookingout into the moaning, struggling night, striving to read the mysticcharacters dimly traced on the ash-grey hurrying clouds as the recklesswinds parted their wan folds. She shrank away from the window, andapproached her cousin
.
"Oh, Russell! say something to me, or I shall die."
It was the last wail she ever suffered to escape her in his presence. Heraised his head and put his hand on her forehead, but the trembling lipsrefused their office, and as she looked up at him tears rolled slowly downand fell on her cheek. She would have given worlds to mingle her tears withhis, but no moisture came to her burning eyes; and there these two, soon toseparate, passed the remaining hours of that long wretched night ofwatching. The stormy day lifted her pale, mournful face at last, and withit came the dreary patter and sobbing of autumn rain, making it doublyharrowing to commit the precious form to its long, last resting-place.Electra stood up beside her cousin and folded her arms together.
"Russell, I am not going to that cousin in Virginia. I could owe my breadand clothes to you, but not to her. She has children, and I do not intendto live on her charity. I know you, and I must part; the sooner the better.I would not be willing to burden you a day longer. I am going to fitmyself to work profitably. Mr. Clifton offered me a home in his house, saidhis mother was lonely, and would be rejoiced to have me; that letter whichI received last week contained one from her, also urging me to come; and,Russell, I am going to New York to study with him as long as I needinstruction. I did not tell aunt of this, because I knew it would grieveher to think that I would be thrown with strangers; and having fullydetermined to take this step, thought it best not to distress her by anyallusion to it. You know it is my own affair, and I can decide it betterthan anyone else."
"So you prefer utter strangers to your relatives and friends?"
"Ties of blood are not the strongest; strangers step in to aid whererelatives sometimes stand aloof, and watch a fatal struggle. RememberIrene; who is nearer to you, she or your grandfather? Such a friend Mr.Clifton is to me, and go to him I will at all hazards. Drop the subject, ifyou please."
He looked at her an instant, then turned once more to his mother's face,and his cousin left them together.
The day was so inclement that only Mr. and Mrs. Campbell and Russell'semployer attended the funeral. These few followed the gentle sleeper, andlaid her down to rest till the star of eternity dawns; and the stormchanted a long, thrilling requiem as the wet mound rose above the coffin.
The kind-hearted pastor and his wife urged the orphans to remove to theirhouse for a few days at least, until the future could be mapped; but theypreferred to meet and battle at once with the spectre which they knew stoodwaiting in the desolate cottage. At midnight a heavy sleep fell on Russell,who had thrown himself upon his mother's couch; and, softly spreading ashawl over him, Electra sat down by the dying fire on the kitchen hearth,and looked her future in the face. A few days sufficed to prepare for herjourney; and a gentleman from New York, who had met her cousin in Mr.Campbell's office, consented to take charge of her, and commit her to Mr.Clifton's hands. The scanty furniture was sent to an auction-room, and apiece of board nailed to the gatepost announced that the cottage was forrent. Russell decided to take his meals at a boarding-house, and occupy asmall room over the office, which Mr. Campbell had placed at his disposal.On the same day, the cousins bade adieu to the only spot they had called"home" for many years; and as Russell locked the door and joined Electra,his melancholy face expressed, far better than words could have done, thepain it cost him to quit the house where his idolized mother had lived,suffered and died. Mr. Colton was waiting for Electra at the hotel, whitherthe stage had been driven for passengers; and as she drew near and saw hertrunk among others piled on top, she stopped and grasped Russell's handbetween both hers. A livid paleness settled on her face, while her wildblack eyes fastened on his features. She might never see him again; he wasfar dearer to her than her life; how could she bear to leave him, to puthundreds of miles between that face and her own? An icy hand clutched herheart as she gazed into his deep, sad, beautiful eyes. His feeling for herwas a steady, serene affection, such as brothers have for dear youngsisters, and to give her up now filled him with genuine, earnest sorrow.
"Electra, it is very hard to tell you good-bye. You are all I have left,and I shall be desolate indeed when you are away. But the separation willnot be long, I trust; in a few years we shall be able to have another home;and where my home is, yours must always be. Write to me often, and believethat I shall do all that a brother could for you. Mr. Colton is waiting;good-bye, darling."
He bent down to kiss her, and the strained, tortured look that greeted himhe never forgot. She put her arms around his neck, and clung to him like ashivering weed driven by rough winds against a stone wall. He removed herclasping arms, and led her to Mr. Colton; but as the latter offered toassist her into the stage, she drew back, that Russell might perform thatoffice. While he almost lifted her to a seat, her fingers refused torelease his, and he was forced to disengage them. Other passengers entered,and the door was closed. Russell stood near the window, and said gently,pitying her suffering--
"Electra, won't you say good-bye?"
She leaned out till her cheek touched his, and in a hoarse tone uttered thefluttering words--
"Oh, Russell, Russell! good-bye! May God have mercy on me!"