XXXII.
FULL TIDE.
"A skirmish of wit between them."
--MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.
Man thinks he is strong, and lays his foundations, raises his walls, anddreams of his completed turrets, without reckoning the force of thegales or the insidious inundating of the waters that may bring low themounting structure before its time. When with a firm hand, Mr. Sylvesterthrust back from his heart the one delight which of all the world couldafford, seemed to him at that moment the dearest and the best, hethought the struggle was over and the victory won. It had not evencommenced. He was made startlingly alive to this fact at the very nextinterview he had with Paula. She had just come from Miss Stuyvesant, andthe reflection of her friend's scarcely comprehended joy was on hercountenance, together with a look he could not comprehend, but whichstirred and haunted him, until he felt forced to ask if she had seen anyother of her old friends, in the short visit she had paid.
"Yes," said she, with a distressed blush. "Mr. Ensign was unexpectedlythere."
It is comparatively easy to restrain your own hand from snatching at atreasure you greatly covet, but it is much more difficult to beholdanother and a lesser one grasp and carry it away before your eyes. Hesucceeded in hiding the shadow that oppressed him, but he wasconstrained to recognize the sharpness of the conflict that was about tobe waged in the recesses of his own breast. A conflict, because he knewthat a lift of his finger, or a glance of his eye would decide thematter then, while in a week, perhaps, the glamour of a young sunshinylove, would have worked its inevitable result, and the happiness thathad so unexpectedly startled upon him in his monotonous and sombre path,would have wandered forever out of his reach. How did he meet itsunexpected rush. Sternly at first, but with greater and greater waveringas the days went by, each one revealing fresh beauties of character anddeeper springs of feeling in the enchanting girl thus brought in all hervaried charm before his eyes. Why should he not be happy? If there weredark pages in his life, had they not long ago been closed and sealed,and was not the future bright with promise? A man of his years was notthrough with life. He felt at times as he gazed upon her face with itsindescribable power of awakening far-reaching thoughts and feelings incallous breasts long unused to the holy influence of either, that he hadjust begun to live; that the golden country, with its enticing vistas,lay all before him, and that the youth, which he had missed, had somehowreturned to his prime, fresh with more than its usual enthusiasm andbright with more than its wonted hopes and projects. With this gloriouswoman at his side, life would be new indeed, and if new why not pure andsweet and noble? What was there to hinder him from making the existenceof this sweet soul a walking amongst gentle duties, satisfied dreams andholy aspirations? A past remorse? Why the gates could be closed on that!A strain of innate weakness for the world's good opinion and applause?Ah! with love in his life such a weakness must disappear; besides had henot taken a vow on her dear head, that ought to hedge him about as withangel's wings in the hour of temptation? Men with his experience do notinvoke the protection of innocence to guard a degraded soul. Why, then,all this hesitation? A great boon was being offered to him after yearsof loneliness and immeasurable longing; was it not the will of heaven,that he should meet and enjoy this unexpected grace? He dared to stopand ask, and once daring to ask, the insidious waters found their waybeneath the foundations of his resolution, and the lofty structure hehad reared in such self-confidence, began to tremble where it stood,though as yet it betrayed no visible sign of weakness.
Meanwhile, society with its innumerable demands, had drawn the beautifulyoung girl within its controlling grasp. She must go here, she must gothere; she must lend her talents to this, her beauty to that. Before shehad decided whether she ought to remain in the city a week, two hadflown by, and in all this time Mr. Ensign had been ever at her side,brightening in her own despite, hours which might else have been sad,and surrounding her difficult path with proofs of his silent and warydevotion. A golden net seemed to be closing around her, and, though asyet, she had given no token of a special recognition of her position,Miss Belinda betrayed by the uniform complacence of her demeanor, thatshe for one regarded the matter as effectually settled.
The success which Bertram had met in his first visit at Mr.Stuyvesant's, was not the least agitating factor in this fortnight'ssecret history. He was too much a part of the home life at Mr.Sylvester's, not to make the lightest thrill of his frank and sensitivenature felt by all who invaded its precincts. And he was in a state ofrepressed expectancy at this time, that unconsciously created anatmosphere about him of vague but restless excitement. The hearts of allwho encountered his look of concentrated delight, must unconsciouslybeat with his. A strain sweeter than his old-time music was in hisvoice. When he played upon the piano, which was but seldom, it was as ifhe breathed out his soul before the holy images. When he walked, heseemed to tread on air. His every glance was a question as to whetherthis great joy, for which he had so long and patiently waited, was to behis? Love, living and apotheosized, appeared to blaze before them, andno one can look on love without feeling somewhere in his soul the stirof those deep waters, whose pulsing throb even in the darkness ofmidnight, proves that we are the children of God.
Cicely was uncommunicative, but her face, when Paula beheld it, was likethe glowing countenance of some sculptured saint, from which the veil isslowly being withdrawn.
Suddenly there came an evening when the force of the spell that held allthese various hearts enchained gave way. It was the night of a privateentertainment of great elegance, to be held at the house of a friend ofMiss Stuyvesant. Bertram had received formal permission from the fatherof Cicely, to act as his daughter's escort, and the fact had transformedhim from a hopeful dreamer, into a man determined to speak and know hisfate at once. Paula was engaged to take part in the entertainment, andthe sight of her daintily-decked figure leaving the house with Mr.Ensign, was the last drop in the slowly gathering tide that was secretlyswelling in Mr. Sylvester's breast; and it was with a sudden outrush ofhis whole determined nature that he stepped upstairs, dressed himself inevening attire, and deliberately followed them to the place where theywere going. "The wealth of the Indies is slipping from my grasp," washis passionate exclamation, as he rode through the lighted streets. "Icannot see it go; if she can care more for me than for this sleek,merry-hearted young fellow, she shall. I know that my love is to his,what the mighty ocean is to a placid lake, and with such love one oughtto be panoplied as with resisting steel."
A stream of light and music met him, as he went up the stoop of thehouse that held his treasure. It seemed to intoxicate him. Glow, melodyand perfume, were so many expressions of Paula. His friends, of whomthere were many present, received him with tokens of respect, notunmingled with surprise. It was the first time he had been seen inpublic since his wife's death, and they could not but remark upon thecheerfulness of his bearing, and the almost exalted expression of hisproud and restless eye. Had Paula accompanied him, they might haveunderstood his emotion, but with the beautiful girl under the care ofone of the most eligible gentlemen in town, what could have happened toMr. Sylvester to make his once melancholy countenance blazon like a staramid this joyous and merrily-laughing throng. He did not enlighten them,but moved from group to group, searching for Paula. Suddenly the thoughtflashed upon him, "Is it only an hour or so since I smiled upon her inmy own hall, and shook my head when she asked me with a quick, pleadinglook, to come with them to this very spot?" It seemed days, since thattime. The rush of these new thoughts, the final making up of thisslowly-maturing purpose, the sudden allowing of his heart to regard heras a woman to be won, had carried the past away as by the sweep of amountain torrent. He could not believe he had ever known a moment ofhesitancy, ever looked at her as a father, ever bid her go on her wayand leave the prisoner to his fate. He must always have felt like this;such momentum could not have been gathered in an hour; she must knowthat he loved her wildly, deeply, sacredly, wholly, wi
th the fibre ofhis mind, his body and his soul; that to call her his in life and indeath, was the one demanding passion of his existence, making the past adream, and the future--ah, he dared not question that! He must beholdher face before he could even speculate upon the realities lying behindfate's down-drawn curtain.
Meanwhile fair faces and lovely forms flitted before him, carrying hisglance along in their train, but only because youth was a symbol ofPaula. If these fresh young girls could smile and look back upon him,with that lingering glance which his presence ever invoked, why not shewho was not only sweet, tender, and lovely, but gifted with a naturethat responded to the deep things of life, and the stern passions ofpotent humanity. Could a merry laugh lure her while he stood by? Was thesunshine the natural atmosphere of this flower, that had bloomed underhis eye so sweetly and shed out its innocent fragrance, at the approachof his solemn-pacing foot? He began to mirror before his mind's eye thestartled look of happy wonder with which she would greet his impassionedglance, when released from whatever duties might be now pressing uponher; she wandered into these rooms, to find him awaiting her, whensuddenly there was a stir in the throng, a pleased and excited rush, andthe large curtain which he had vaguely noticed hanging at one end of theroom, uplifted and--was it Paula? this coy, brilliant, saucy-eyedFlorentine maiden, stepping out from a bower of greenery, with finger onher lip, and a backward glance of saucy defiance that seemed to peoplethe verdant walks behind her with gallant cavaliers, eager to followupon her footsteps? Yes; he could not be mistaken; there was but oneface like that in the world. It was Paula, but Paula with youth'smerriest glamour upon her, a glamour that had caught its radiant lightfrom other thoughts than those in which he had been engaged. He bowedhis head, and a shudder went through him like that which precedes thefalling knife of the executioner. Even the applause that greeted therevelation of so much loveliness and alluring charm, passed over himlike a dream. He was battling with his first recognition of thepossibility of his being too late. Suddenly her voice was heard.
She was speaking aloud to herself, this Florentine maiden who hadoutstripped her lover in the garden, but the tone was the same he hadheard beside his own hearthstone, and the archness that accompanied ithad frequently met and encouraged some cheerful expression of his own.These are the words she uttered. Listen with him to the _naive_, halftender, half pettish voice, and mark with his eyes the alternate lightsand shadows that flit across her cheek as she broodingly murmurs:
He is certainly a most notable gallant. His "Good day, lady!" and his "Good even to you!" are flavored with the cream of perfectest courtesy. But gallantry while it sits well upon a man, does not make him one, any more than a feather makes the cap it adorns. For a Tuscan he hath also a certain comeliness, but then I have ever sworn, in good faith too, that I would not marry a Tuscan, were he the best made man in Italy. Then there is his glance, which proclaims to all men's understandings that he loves me, which same seems overbold; but then his smile!
Well, for a smile it certainly does credit to his wit, but one cannot live upon smiles; though if one could, one might consent to make a trial of his--and starve belike for her pains. (_She drops her cheek into her hand and stands musing._)
Mr. Sylvester drew a deep breath and let his eyes fall, when suddenly ahum ran through the audience about him, and looking quickly up, hebeheld Mr. Ensign dressed in full cavalier costume, standing behind themusing maiden with a half merry, half tender gleam upon his face, thatmade the thickly beating heart of his rival shrink as if clutched in aniron vise. What followed, he heard as we do the words of a sentence readto us from the judge's seat. The cavalier spoke first and a thousanddancing colors seemed to flash in the merry banter that followed.
_Martino._--She muses, and on no other than myself, as I am ready to swear by that coy and tremulous glance. I will move her to avow it. (_Advances._) Fair lady, greeting! A kiss for your sweet thoughts.
_Nita._ (_With a start_).--A kiss, Signior Martino? You must acknowledge that were but a sorry exchange for thoughts like mine, so if it please you, I will keep my thoughts and you your kiss; and lest it should seem ungracious in me to give nothing upon your asking, I will bestow upon you my most choice good day, and so leave you to your meditations. (_Curtseys and is about to depart._)
_Martino._--You have the true generosity, lady; you give away what it costs you the dearest to part from. Nay, rumple not your lip; it is the truth for all your pretty poutings! Convince me it is not.
_Nita._--Your pardon, but that would take words, and words would take time, and time given to one of your persuasion would refute all my arguments on the face of them. (_Still retreating._)
_Martino._--Well, lady, since it is your pleasure to be consistent, rather than happy, adieu. Had you stayed but as long as the bee pauses on an oleander blossom, you would have heard--
_Nita._--Buzzing, signior?
_Martino._--Yes, if by that word you would denominate vows of constancy and devotion. For I do greatly love you, and would tell you so.
_Nita._--And for that you expect me to linger! as though vows were new to my ears, and words of love as strange to my understanding as tropical birds to the eyes of a Norseman.
_Martino._--If you do love me, you will linger.
_Nita._--Yet if I do, (_Slowly advancing_) be assured it is from some other motive than love.
_Martino._--So it be not from hate I am contented.
_Nita._--To be contented with little, proves you a man of much virtue.
_Martino._--When I have you, I am contented with much.
_Nita._--That _when_ is a wise insertion, signior; it saves you from shame and me from anger.--Hark! some one calls.
_Martino._--None other but the wind; it is a kindly breeze, and grieves to hear how harsh a pretty maiden can be to the lover who adores her.
_Nita._--Please your worship, I do not own a lover.
_Martino._--Then mend your poverty, and accept one.
_Nita._--I am no beggar to accept of alms.
_Martino._--In this case, he who offers is the beggar.
_Nita._--I am too young to wear a jewel of so much pretension.
_Martino._--Time is a cure for youth, and marriage a happy speeder of time.
_Nita._--But youth needs no cure, and if marriage speedeth time, I'll live a maid and die one. The days run swift enough without goading, Signior Martino.
_Martino._--But lady--
_Nita._.--Nay, your tongue will outstrip time, if you put not a curb upon it. In faith, signior, I would not seem rude, but if in your courtesy you would consent to woo some other maiden to-day, why I would strive and bear it.
_Martino._--When I stoop to woo any other lady than thee, the moon shall hide its face from the earth, and shine upon it no more.
_Nita._--Your thoughts are daring in their flight to-day.
_Martino._--They are in search of your love.
_Nita._--Alack, your wings will fail.
_Martino._--Ay, when they reach their goal.
_Nita._--Dost think to reach it?
_Martino._--Shall I not, lady?
_Nita._--'Tis hard to believe it possible, yet who can tell? You are not so handsome, signior, that one would die for you.
_Martino._--No, lady; but what goes to make other men's faces fair, goes to make my heart great. The virtue of my manhood rests in the fact that I love you.
_Nita._--Faith! so in some others. 'Tis the common fault of the gallants, I find. If that is all--
_Martino._--But I will always love you, even unto death.
_Nita._--I doubt it not, so death come soon enough.
_Martino._ (_Taps his
poiniard with his hand._)--Would you have it come now, and so prove me true to my word?
_Nita._ (_Demurely_).--I am no judge, to utter the doom that your presumption merits.
_Martino._--Your looks speak doom, and your sweet lips hide a sword keener than that of justice.
_Nita._--Have you tried them, signior, that you speak so knowingly concerning them? (_Retreating._) Your words, methinks, are somewhat like your kisses, all breath and no substance.
_Martino._--Lady! sweet one! (_Follows her._)
_Nita._--Nay, I am gone. (_Exit._)
_Martino._--I were of the fools' fold, did I fail to follow at a beck so gentle. (_Exit._)
That was not all, but it was all that Mr. Sylvester heard. Hastilyretreating, he went out into the corridor and ere long found himself inthe conservatory. He felt shaken; felt that he could not face all thisunmoved. He knew he had been gazing at a play; that because thisFlorentine maiden looked at her lover with coyness, gentleness,tenderness perhaps, it did not follow that she, his Paula, loved thereal man behind this dashing cavalier. But the possibility was there,and in his present frame of mind could not be encountered without pain.He dared not stay where men's eyes could follow him, or women's delicateglances note the heaving of his chest. He had in the last three hoursgiven himself over so completely to hope. He realized it now though hewould not have believed it before. With man's usual egotism he had feltthat it was only necessary for him to come to a decision, to behold allelse fall out according to his mind. He had forgotten for the nonce thepower of a youthful lover, eager to serve, ready to wait, careful topress his way at every advantage. He could have cursed himself for thefolly of his delay, as he strode up and down among the flowering shrubsin the solitude which the attractions of the play created. "Fool! fool!"he muttered between his teeth, "to halt on the threshold of Paradisetill the door closed in my face, when a step would have carried mewhere--" He grew dizzy as he contemplated. The goal looks never so fairas when just within reach of a rival's hand.
A vigorous clapping, followed by a low gush of music, woke him at lastto the realization that the little drama had terminated. With a hastymovement he was about to return to the parlors, when he heard the lowmurmur of voices, and on looking up, saw a youthful couple advancinginto the conservatory, whom at first glance he recognized for Bertramand Miss Stuyvesant. They were absorbed in each other, and believingthemselves alone, came on without fear, presenting such a picture oflove and deep, unspeakable joy, that Mr. Sylvester paused and gazed uponthem as upon the sudden embodiment of a cherished vision of his ownimaginings. Bertram was speaking ordinary words no doubt, words suitedto the occasion and the time, but his voice was attuned to the beatingsof his long repressed heart, while the bend of his proud young head andthe glance of his yearning eye were more eloquent than speech, of theleaning of his whole nature in love and protection towards the dainty,flushing creature at his side. It was a sight to make old hearts youngand a less happy lover sick with envy. In spite of his gratification athis nephew's success, Mr. Sylvester's brow contracted, and it was withdifficulty he could subdue himself into the appearance of calmbenevolence necessary to pass them with propriety. Had it been Paula andMr. Ensign!
He did not know how it was that he managed to find her at last. But justas he was beginning to realize that wisdom demanded his departure fromthis scene, he suddenly came upon her sitting with her face turnedtoward the crowd and waiting--for whom? He had never seen her look sobeautiful, possibly because he had never before allowed himself to gazeupon her with a lover's eyes. She had exchanged her piquant Romancostume for the pearl gray satin in which Ona had delighted to arrayher, and its rich substance and delicate neutral tint harmonized wellwith the amber brocade of the curtain against which she sat.
Power, passion and purity breathed in her look, and lent enchantment toher form. She was poetry's unique jewel, and at this moment, thoughtrather than merriment sat upon her lips, and haunted her somewhattremulous smiles. He approached her as a priest to his shrine, but onceat her side, once in view of her first startled blush, stoopedpassionately, and forgetting everything but the suspense at his heart,asked with a look and tone such as he had never before bestowed uponher, if the play which he had seen that evening had been real, or onlythe baseless fabric of a dream.
She understood him and drew back with a look almost of awe, shaking herhead and replying in a startled way, "I do not know, I dare not say, Iscarcely have taken time to think."
"Then take it," he murmured in a voice that shook her body and soul,"for _I_ must know, if _he_ does not." And without venturing anotherword, or supplying by look or gesture any explanation of his unexpectedappearance, or as equally unexpected departure, he bowed before her asif she had been a queen instead of the child he had been wont in otherdays to regard her, and speedily left her side.
But he had not taken two steps before he paused. Mr. Ensign wasapproaching.
"Mr. Sylvester! you are worse than the old woman of the tale, whodeclaring she would not, that nothing could ever induce her to--_did_."
"You utter a deeper truth than you realize," returned that gentleman,with a grave emphasis meant rather for her ears than his. "It is thecurse of mortals to overrate their strength in the face of greattemptations. I am no exception to the rule." And with a second bow thatincluded this apparently triumphant lover within its dignified sweep, hecalmly proceeded upon his way, and in a few moments had left the house.
Mr. Ensign, who for all his careless disposition, was quick to recognizedepths in others, stared after his commanding figure until he haddisappeared, then turned and looked at Paula. Why did his heart sink,and the lights and joy and promise of the evening seem to turn dark andshrivel to nothing before his eyes!