XXIV.
THE JAPHA MANSION.
"Ah what a warning for a thoughtless man, Could field or grove, could any spot on earth Show to his eye an image of the pangs Which it has witnessed; render back an echo Of the sad steps by which it hath been trod.
--WORDSWORTH.
Unexplained actions if long continued, lose after awhile their interestif not their mystery. The aged lady who now for many years had been seenat every night-fall to leave her home, traverse the village streets,enter the Japha mansion, remain there an hour and then re-issue withtremulous steps and bowed head, had become so common a sight to thevillage eye, that even the children forgot to ask what her errand was,or why she held her head so hopefully when she entered, or looked sodespondent when she came forth.
But to Paula, for reasons already mentioned, this secret and persistentvigil in a forsaken and mysterious dwelling, was fraught with asignificance which had never lost its power either to excite hercuriosity or to arouse her imagination. Many a time had she gone homefrom some late encounter with the aged lady, to brood by the hour uponthe expression of that restless eye which in its wanderings never failedto turn upon her own youthful face and linger there in the manner I havealready noted. She thought of it by night, she thought of it by day. Shefelt herself drawn to that woman's suffering heart as by invisiblecords. To understand the feelings of this desolate being, she had evenstudied the face of that old house, until she knew it under its everyaspect. Often in shutting her eyes at night, she would perceive as in amirror a vision of its long gray front, barred door and sealed windowsshining in the moon, save where the deep impenetrable shadows of its twoguardian poplars lay black and dismal upon its ghostly surface. Againshe would behold it as it reared itself dark and dripping in a blindingstorm, its walls plastered with leaves from the immovable poplars, andits neglected garden lying sodden and forlorn under the flail of theceaseless storm. Then its early morning face would strike her fancy. Theslow looming of its chimney-tops against a brightening sky; the gradualcoming out of its forsaken windows and solemn looking doors from themystery of darkness into the no less mystery of day; the hint ofroselight on its barren boards; the gleam of sunshine on its untroddenthreshold; a sunshine as pure and sweet as if a bride stood there in herbeauty, waiting for admission into the deserted halls beyond. All andeverything that could tend to invest the house and its constant visitorwith an atmosphere of awe and interest, had occurred to this young girlin her daily reveries and nightly dreams. It was therefore with a thrilldeep as her expectation and vivid as her sympathy, that she recognizedin her eager interlocutor and proposed confident, the woman about whoselife and actions rested for her such a veil of impenetrable mystery. Thethought moved her, excited her, and made the rest of the evening passlike a dream. She was anxious for the next day to come, that she mightseek this Mrs. Hamlin in her home, and hear from her lips the tale ofdevotion that should mate her own simple but enthusiastic poem.
When the next day did come, it rained, rained bitterly, persistent andwith a steady drive from the north east, that made her going outimpossible. The day following she was indisposed, and upon thesucceeding afternoon, she was engaged in duties that precluded allthought of visiting. The next day was Sunday, and Monday had its owndemands which she could not slight. It was therefore well nigh a weekfrom the night of the entertainment, before the opportunity offered forwhich she was so anxious. Her curiosity and expectation had thus time togrow, and it was with a determination to allow nothing to stand in herway, that she set out from home in a flood of mild September sunshine,to visit Mrs. Hamlin. But alas, for resolutions made in a countryvillage prior to the opening of a church fair! She had scarcely gone adozen steps before she was accosted by one of the managers, a woman whoneither observes your haste, nor pays any attention to your possiblepreoccupation. Do what she could, she found it impossible to escape fromthis persistent individual until she had satisfied her upon matterswhich it took a full half hour to discuss, and when at last shesucceeded in doing so, it was only to fall into the hands of an ageddeacon of the church, whose protecting friendship it were a sin towound, while his garrulous tongue made it no ordinary trial of patienceto stand and listen. In short the best part of the afternoon was gonebefore she found herself at the door of Mrs. Hamlin's house. But she wasnot to be deterred by further hesitation from the pursuit of her object.Rapping smartly on the door, she listened. No stir came from within.Again she rapped and again she listened. No response came to assure herthat her summons had been heard. Surprised at this, for she had beentold Mrs. Hamlin was always at home during the afternoon, she glanced upat the church clock in plain view from the doorstep, and blushed toobserve that it was six o'clock, the hour at which this mysterious womanalways left her house, to accomplish her vigil at the Japha mansion.
"What have I done?" thought Paula, and felt a strange thrill as sherealized that even at that moment, the woman with the eager but restlesseyes, was shut within the precincts of that deserted dwelling, engagedin prayer, perhaps wet with tears, who knows? The secret of what she didin that long and quiet twilight hour had never been revealed. Leavingthe little brown house behind, Paula found herself insensibly taking theroad to the Japha mansion. If she could not enter it and share the watchof the devoted woman who had promised her her confidence, she could atleast observe if the windows were open or the blinds raised. To be sureshe ought to be at home, but Miss Belinda was indulgent and did notquestion her comings and goings too closely. An irresistible force drewher down the street, and she did not hesitate to follow the lead of herimpulse. No one accosted her now, it was the tea hour in most of thesehouses and the streets were comparatively deserted. The only house whosechimneys lacked the rising smoke, was the one towards which herfootsteps were tending. She could descry it from afar. Its gaunt wallsfrom which the paint had long ago faded, stared uncompromisingly uponher in the autumn sunshine. There was no welcome in its close shutterswith their broken slats from which hung tangled strips of old rags--theremnants of some boy's kite. The stiff and solemn poplars rose grim andforbidding at the gate once swung wide to the fashion and gallantry ofproud ladies and stalwart gentlemen, but now pushed aside solely by thehand of a tremulous old woman, or the irreverent palm of some daringschool-boy. From the tangled garden looked forth neither flower norblossoming shrub. Beauty and grace could not thrive in this wildernessof decay. A dandelion would have felt itself out of place beneath theeye of that ghostly door, with the sinister plank nailed across it, likethe separating line between light and darkness, right and wrong, lifeand death. What loneliness! what a monument of buried passions outlivingdeath itself!
Paula paused as she reached the gate; but remembering that Mrs. Hamlinwas accustomed to enter the house by a side door, hurried around thecorner and carefully surveyed the windows from that quarter. One of theshutters was open, allowing the flame of the setting sun to gild thepanes like gold. She did not know then nor has she been able to explainsince, what it was that came over her at the sight, but almost beforeshe realized it, she had returned to the gate, opened it, threaded theovergrown garden, reached the door which she had so frequently beheldthe aged woman enter and knocked.
Instantly she was seized with a consciousness of what she had done, andfrightened at her temerity, meditated an immediate escape. Drawing thefolds of her mantle about her form and face, she prepared to fly, whenshe remembered the look of entreaty with which this woman had said onthat night of their conversation, "Do not disappoint me! Do not keep melong in suspense!" and moved by a fresh impulse, turned and inflictedanother resounding knock on the door.
The result was unlooked-for and surprising. To the sound from within ofa quick passionate cry, there came a hurried movement, followed by adeep silence, then another hasty stir succeeded by a longer silence,then a rush which seemed to bring all things with it, and the dooropened and Mrs. Hamlin appeared before her with a countenance so pallidwith expectancy, that Paula instinctively felt that in some unconscio
usway, she had loosened the bonds of an uncontrollable emotion, and wasdrawing back, when the woman with a quick look in her shrouded face,exultantly caught her hand in hers, and drawing her over the threshold,gasped out in a delirium of incomprehensible joy:
"I knew you would come! I knew that God would not let you forget!Fifteen years have I waited, Jacqueline! fifteen long, tedious,suffering years! But they all seem like nothing now! You have come, youhave come, and all that I ask, is that God will not let me die till Irealize my joy!"
The emotion with which she uttered these strange words was sooverpowering, and her body seemed so weak to stand the strain, thatPaula instinctively put forth her hand to sustain her. The actionloosened her cloak. Instantly the eyes that had been fixed upon her withsuch delirious rapture grew blank with dismay, a frightful shudder ranthrough the woman's aged frame; she tore at the cloak that stillenveloped the young girl's shoulders, and pulling it off, took one viewof the fresh and beautiful countenance before her, and without utteringa word, fell back in a deep and deadly swoon upon the floor.
"O what have I done?" cried Paula, flinging herself down beside thatpale and rigid figure; but instantly remembering herself she leaped toher feet and looked about for some means to resuscitate the sufferer.There was a goblet of water on a table near by. Seizing it, she bathedthe face and hands of the woman before her, moaning aloud in her griefand dismay, "Have I killed her! O what is this mystery that brings sucha doom of anguish to this poor heart?"
But from those pallid lips came no response, and feeling greatlyalarmed, Paula was about to rush from the house for assistance, when shefelt a tremulous pull upon her skirt, and turning, saw that the glassyeyes had opened at last and were now gazing upon her with mute buteloquent appeal.
She instantly returned. "O I am so sorry," she murmured, sinking againupon her knees beside the suffering woman. "I did not know, could notrealize that my presence here would affect you so deeply. Forgive me andtell me what I can do to make you forget my presumption."
The woman shook her head, her lips moved and she struggled vainly torise. Paula immediately lent her the aid of her strong young hand and ina few minutes, Mrs. Hamlin was on her feet. "O God!" were her firstwords as she sank into the chair which Paula hastily drew forward, "thatI should taste the joy and she be still unsaved!"
Seeing her so absorbed, Paula ventured to glance around her. She foundherself in a large square room sparsely but comfortably furnished in astyle that bespake it as the former sitting-room of the dead and buriedJaphas. From the walls above hung a few ancient pictures. A largehair-cloth sofa of a heavy antique shape, confronted the eye from oneside of the room, an equally ancient book-case from the other. Thecarpet was faded and so were the curtains, but they had once been of anattractive hue and pattern. Conspicuous in the midst stood a large tablewith a well-trimmed lamp upon it, and close against it an easy chairwith an upright back. This last as well as everything else in the room,was in a condition of neatness that would have surprised Paula if shehad not been acquainted with the love and devotion of this woman, who inher daily visits to this house, probably took every pains to keep thingsfreshened and in order.
Satisfied with her survey, she again directed her attention to Mrs.Hamlin, and started to find that person's eyes fixed upon her own withan expression of deep, demanding interest.
"You are looking at the shadows of things that were," exclaimed the oldlady in thrilling tones. "It is a fearful thought to be shut up with theghost of a vanished past, is it not? That chair by your side has notbeen sat in since Colonel Japha rose from it twelve years ago to totterto the bed where he breathed his last. It is waiting, everything iswaiting. I thought the end had come to-night, that the vigil was over,the watch finished, but God in his wisdom says, 'No,' and I must wait alittle longer. Alas in a little while longer the end will be hereindeed!"
The despondency with which she uttered these last words showed where herthoughts were tending, and to comfort her, Paula drew up a chair and satdown by her side. "You were going to tell me the story of a great loveand a great devotion. Cannot you do so now?"
The woman started, glanced hastily around, and let her eyes travel toPaula's face where they rested with something of their old look ofsecret longing and doubt.
"You are the one who wrote the poem," she murmured; "I remember." Thenwith a sudden feverish impulse, leaned forward, and stroking back thewaving locks from Paula's brow, exclaimed hurriedly, "You look like her,you have the same dark hair and wonderful eyes, more beautiful perhaps,but like her, O so like her! That is why I made such a mistake." Sheshuddered, with a quick low sob, but instantly subdued her emotion andtaking Paula's hand in hers continued, "You are young, my daughter;youth does not enjoy carrying burdens; can I, a stranger ask you toassist me with mine?"
"You may," returned Paula. "If it will give you any relief I will helpyou bear it willingly."
"You will! Has heaven then sent me the aid my failing spirits demand?Can I count on you, child? But I will ask for no promise till you haveheard my story. To no one have I ever imparted the secret of my life,but from the first moment I saw your fair young face, I felt thatthrough you would come my help, if help ever came to make my finalmoments easier and my last days less bitter." And rising up, she ledPaula to a door which she solemnly opened. "I am glad that you arehere," said she. "I could never have asked you to come, but since youhave braved the dead and crossed this threshold, you must see and knowthe whole. You will understand my story better."
Taking her through a dark passage, she threw wide another door, and theparlors of the vanished Japhas opened before them. It was a ghostlyvision. A weird twilight scene of clustered shadows brooding abovearticles of musty grandeur. In spite of the self-command learned by herlate experiences, Paula recoiled, saying,
"It is too sad, too lonesome!" But the woman without heeding her,hurried her on over the worm-eaten carpet and between the time-wornchairs and heavy-browed cabinets, to the hall beyond.
"I have not been here, myself, for a year," said Mrs. Hamlin, glancingfearfully up and down the dusky corridor. "It is not often I can bravethe memories of this spot." And she pointed with one hand towards thedarkened door at its end, whose spacious if not stately panels gave nohint to the eye of the dread bar that crossed it like a line of doomupon the outside, and then turning, let her eye fall with still heaviersignificance upon the broad and imposing staircase that rose from thecentre of the hall to the duskier and more dismal regions above.
"A brave, old fashioned flight of steps is it not! But the scene of acurse, my child." And unheeding Paula's shudder, she drew her up thestairs.
"See," continued her panting guide as they reached a square platformnear the top, from which some half dozen or more steps branched up oneither side. "They do not build like this nowadays. But Colonel Japhabelieved in nothing new, and thought more of his grand old hall andstaircase, than he did of all the rest of his house. He little dreamedof what a scene it would be the witness. But come, it is getting lateand you must see her room."
It was near the top of the staircase and was fully as musty, faded anddismal as the rest. Yet there was an air of expectancy about it, too,that touched Paula deeply. From between the dingy hangings of the bed,looked forth a pair of downy pillows, edged with yellowed lace, andbeneath them a neatly spread counterpane carefully turned back overcomfortable-looking blankets, as one sees in a bed that only awaits itsoccupant; while on the ancient hearth, a pile of logs stood heaped andready for the kindling match.
"It is all waiting you see," said the old lady in a trembling voice,"like everything else, just waiting."
There was an embroidery frame in one corner of the room, from whichlooked a piece of faded and half completed work. The needle was hangingfrom it by a thread, and a skein of green worsted hung over the top,Paula glanced at it inquiringly.
"It is just as she left it! He never entered the room after she went andI would never let it be touched. It is just the same with the pianobelow. Th
e last piece she played is still standing open on the rack. Iloved her so, and I thought then that a few months would bring her back!See, here is her bible. She never used to read it, but she prized itbecause it was her mother's. I have placed it on the pillow where shewill see it when she comes to lay her poor tired head down to rest." Andwith a reverent hand the aged matron drew the curtains back from theopen bed, and disclosed the little bible lying thick with dust in thecentre of the nearest pillow.
"O who was this you loved so well? And why did she leave you?" criedPaula with the tears in her eyes, at sight of this humble token.
The aged lady seized her hand and hurried her back into the room below."I will tell you where I have waited and watched so long. Only bepatient till I light the lamp. It is getting late and any chancewanderer going by and seeing all dark, might think I had forgotten mypromise and was not here."
XXV.
JACQUELINE.
"The cold in clime are cold in blood, And love as scarce deserves the name, But mine is like the lava flood That burns in Etna's breast of flame."
--BYRON.