Marston's eye lighted upon her, his brow darkened andhis face grew pale.
"Well, well--what is it?--What is all this?" he said, glancing with atroubled eye from one to the other. "Speak, someone. Mrs. Marston, yousent for me; what is it?"
"I want to know, Mr. Marston, from your own lips," said the lady, inreply, "whether Rhoda is to obey me or Mademoiselle de Barras?"
"Bah!--A question of women's prerogative," said Marston, with mutteredvehemence.
"Of a wife's and a mother's prerogative, Richard," said Mrs. Marston,with gentle emphasis. "A very simple question, and one I should havethought needing no deliberation to decide it."
"Well, child," sad he, turning to Rhoda, with angry irony, "pray what isall this fuss about? You are a very ill used young lady, I dare aver.Pray what cruelties does Mademoiselle de Barras propose inflicting uponyou, that you need to appeal thus to your mother for protection?"
"You quite mistake me, Richard," interposed Mrs. Marston; "Rhoda isperfectly passive in the matter. I simply wish to learn from you, inmademoiselle's presence, whether I or she is to command my daughter?"
"Command!" said Marston, evading the direct appeal; "and pray what is allthis commanding about?--What do you want the girl to do?"
"I wish her to remain here with me for a little time, and mademoiselle,knowing this, desires her instantly to go to the music-room, and leaveme. That is all," said Mrs. Marston.
"And pray, is there nothing to make her going to the music-room advisableor necessary? Has she no music to learn, or studies to pursue? Pshaw!Mrs. Marston, what needs all this noise about nothing? Go, miss," headded, sharply and peremptorily, addressing Rhoda, "go this moment to themusic-room."
The girl glided from the room, and mademoiselle, as she followed, shot aglance at Mrs. Marston which wounded and humbled her in the dust.
"Oh! Richard, Richard, if you knew all, you would not have subjected meto this indignity," she said; and throwing her arms about his neck, shewept, for the first time for many a long year, upon his breast.
Marston was embarrassed and agitated. He disengaged her arms from hisneck, and placed her gently in a chair. She sobbed on for some time insilence--a silence which Marston himself did not essay to break. Hewalked to the door, apparently with the intention of leaving her. Hehesitated however, and returned; took a hurried turn through the room;hesitated again; sat down; then returned to the door, not to depart, butto close it carefully, and walked gloomily to the window, whence helooked forth, buried in agitating and absorbing thoughts.
"Richard, to you this seems a trifling thing; but, indeed it is not so,"said Mrs. Marston, sadly.
"You are very right, Gertrude," he said, quickly, and almost with astart; "it is very far from a trifling thing; it is very important."
"You don't blame me, Richard?" said she.
"I blame nobody," said he.
"Indeed, I never meant to offend you, Richard," she urged.
"Of course not; no, no; I never said so," he interrupted, sarcastically;"what could you gain by that?"
"Oh! Richard, better feelings have governed me," she said, in amelancholy and reproachful tone.
"Well, well, I suppose so," he said; and after an interval, he addedabstractedly, "This cannot, however, go on; no, no--it cannot. Sooner orlater it must have come; better at once--better now."
"What do you mean, Richard?" she said, greatly alarmed, she knew not why."What are you resolving upon? Dear Richard, in mercy tell me. I imploreof you, tell me."
"Why, Gertrude, you seem to me to fancy that, because I don't talk aboutwhat is passing, that I don't see it either. Now this is quite amistake," said Marston, calmly and resolutely--"I have long observed yourgrowing dislike of Mademoiselle de Barras. I have thought it over; thisfracas of today has determined me; it is decisive. I suppose you now wishher to go, as earnestly as you once wished her to stay. You need notanswer. I know it. I neither ask nor care to whose fault I am toattribute these changed feelings--female caprice accounts sufficientlyfor it; but whatever the cause, the effect is undeniable; and the onlyway to deal satisfactorily with it is, to dismiss mademoiselle at once.You need take no part in the matter; I take it upon myself. Tomorrowmorning she shall have left this house. I have said it, and am perfectlyresolved."
As he thus spoke, as if to avoid the possibility of any furtherdiscussion, he turned abruptly from her, and left the room.
The extreme agitation which she had just undergone combined with herphysical delicacy to bring on an hysterical attack; and poor Mrs.Marston, with an aching head and a heavy heart, lay down upon her bed.She had swallowed an opiate, and before ten o'clock upon that night, aneventful one as it proved, she had sunk into a profound slumber.
Some hours after this, she became in a confused way conscious of herhusband's presence in the room. He was walking, with an agitated mien, upand down the chamber, and casting from time to time looks of greattrouble toward the bed where she lay. Though the presence of her husbandwas a strange and long unwonted occurrence there, at such an hour, andthough she felt the strangeness of the visit, the power of the opiateoverwhelmed her so, that she could only see this apparition glidingslowly back and forward before her, with the passive wonder and curiositywith which one awaits the issue of an interesting dream.
For a time she lay once more in an uneasy sleep; but still, throughouteven this, she was conscious of his presence; and when, a little whileafter, she again saw him, he was not walking to and fro before the footof the bed, but sitting beside her, with one hand laid upon the pillow onwhich her head was resting, the other supporting his chin. He was lookingsteadfastly upon her, with a changed face, an expression of bittersorrow, compunction, and tenderness. There was not one trace ofsternness; all was softened. The look was what she fancied he might haveturned upon her had she lain there dead, ere yet the love of their earlyand ill-fated union had grown cold in his heart. There was something init which reminded her of days and feelings gone, never to return. Andwhile she looked in his face with a sweet and mournful fascination, tearsunconsciously wet the pillow on which her poor head was resting. Unableto speak, unable to move, she heard him say--"It was not your fault,Gertrude--it was not yours, nor mine. There is a destiny in these thingstoo strong for us. Past is past--what is done, is done forever; and evenwere it all to do over again, what power have I to mend it? No, no; howcould I contend against the combined power of passions, circumstances,influences--in a word, of fate? You have been good and patient, whileI--; but no matter. Your lot, Gertrude, is a happier one than mine."
Mrs. Marston heard him and saw him, but she had not the power, nor eventhe will, herself to speak or move. He appeared before her passive senselike the phantasm of a dream. He stood up at the bedside, and looked onher steadfastly, with the same melancholy expression. For a moment hestooped over her, as if about to kiss her face, but checked himself,stood erect again at the bedside, then suddenly turned; the curtain fellback into its place, and she saw him no more.
With a strange mixture of sweet and bitter feelings this vision restedupon the memory of Mrs. Marston, until, gradually, deep slumber againovercame her senses, and the incident and all its attendant circumstancesfaded into oblivion.
It was past eight o'clock when Mrs. Marston awoke next morning. The sunwas shining richly and cheerily in at the windows; and as the remembranceof Marston's visit to her chamber, and the unwonted manifestations oftenderness and compunction which accompanied it, returned, she feltsomething like hope and happiness, to which she had long been a stranger,flutter her heart. The pleasing reverie to which she was yielding was,however, interrupted. The sound of stifled sobbing in the room reachedher ear, and, pushing back the bed-curtains, and leaning forward to look,she saw her maid, Willett, sitting with her back to the wall, cryingbitterly, and striving, as it seemed, to stifle her sobs with her apron,which was wrapped about her face.
"Willet, Willett, is it you who are sobbing? What is the matter with you,child?" said Mrs. Marston, anxiously.
The g
irl checked herself, dried her eyes hastily, and walking briskly toa little distance, as if engaged in arranging the chamber, she said, withan affectation of carelessness--
"Oh, ma'am, it is nothing; nothing at all, indeed, ma'am."
Mrs. Marston remained silent for a time, while all her vagueapprehensions returned. Meantime the girl continued to shove the chairshither and thither, and to arrange and disarrange everything in the roomwith a fidgety industry, intended to cover her agitation. A few minutes,however, served to weary her of this, for she abruptly stopped, stood bythe bedside, and, looking at her mistress, burst into tears.
"Good God! What is it?" said Mrs. Marston, shocked and even terrified,while