Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

Mrs. Essery shrunk within herself, startled be- difference between this fair lady and myself," yond measure at this outbreak from her taciturn he continued, “ arose from our differing in opinnephew; regretting, too, that she had mentioned ion concerning a book we have both lately read: her suspicions, and provoked anger when she―The Life and Memoirs of Margaret Fuller meant to have given pleasure. The union of a Ossoli; I being inclined to think that the said beloved sister with a favorite friend, seemed to Margaret Fuller Ossoli had, towards the close her simplicity a fit matter of rejoicing. She had doubted Gertrude's acceptance of Mr. Karne, but had not thought of how John would view it.

Both aunt and nephew remained silent, till at last Mrs. Essery said very timidly, "Remember, John, I do not know anything; I have only told you my suspicions and surmises. There may be no ground whatever for them, save in the imaginings of my foolish head, and the wishes of my foolish heart."

of her life, after her quitting America, attained to a much truer idea of life, and of woman's sphere, duty, and mission, (pardon the use of three such odious words, Miss Elton), than she appears to have possessed during the earlier manifestations of that singular existence of hers."

"And I," said Gertrude, thinking her earlier life glorious-glorious in its rich intellectuality -deem her later life comparatively inglorious. I hold that at her outset she possessed a truth, of which she gradually loosened her hold, and that,

"I hope it may be so, Aunt Essery, but I shall be on the watch. I have been too rash; I had well nigh forgotten that Gertrude is only a wo-when she had quite let it from her grasp, having man after all!" lost the charm, the talisman, the source of all Aunt Margaret sighed, and wished in her heart her power, she sunk rapidly to an ordinary level that Gertrude were in reality "nothing but" a-shrunk rapidly to the dwarfed dimensions of woman-a simple, loving, true, devoted woman. an ordinary woman." "Try and forget what I have said, John. and be kind and cordial, for here they all come."

They were at the window almost before John and Mrs. Essery had time to smooth the careful wrinkles from their faces.

"My son and your sister have been engaged in a wordy warfare during the greater part of the evening, disturbing nature's calm by their contention and strife," said Mrs Karne, with a smile.

And I, deeming the true power, charm, and talisman of a woman's life to be, the power of love-"

"That sentiment you doubtless learned from your mother, Mr. Karne," interrupted Gertrude, sneeringly. "Aunt Margaret has favored me with it occasionally; no doubt we both have acquired it from the same source!"

"It is possible," replied Mr. Karne, a deeper shade stealing across his face. "I, indeed, have John glanced at the two in question, and was learned its truth from my mother. But," he adnot displeased at the expression of their faces-ded, trying to assume some gayety, "it is so late, Gilbert's pale and grave, Gertrude's flushed and I had better abandon my defence, and commit excited, and bearing evident signs that the ex-myself to the mercy of the judge." citement was not of a pleasing nature.

May one ask the disputed point without provoking a fresh outbreak?" he inquired.

No one appeared much inclined to answer; at last Gertrude said, haughtily, "Mr. Karne has taken upon himself to preach, for my edification, a discourse upon humility, and to charge me with cherishing the unwomanly qualities of pride and ambition !"

"Nay, nay, not so fast, fair Amazon," said Mrs. Karne, trying hard to give a playful turn to the controversy. "Some of your theories he called in question, and charged them with a tendency to cherish such faults; but at the same time he gently insinuated a doubt whether, on reflection, you would call such theories really yours."

"In that case," answered Gertrude, "it was my truthfulness he called in question, and to this I am still less willing to submit patiently."

No, you must continue," said John, who wished him fully to develop opinions which he thought would for ever deprive him of all chance of finding favor with Gertrude.

"Proceed, defendant," he cried, as Mr. Karne still hesitated.

"If I must, I must. I, then, holding that the power of a woman's life is the power of love-of love," he continued, with a deprecating glance at Gertrude, who stood haughtily confronting him; "of love in no narrow, restricted sense; but love universal, catholic, all-embracing, God-servingsee something far more glorious, more admirable, more true and noble, in the self-ignoring spirit in which Margaret Fuller devoted herself to the care of the sick and the suffering in the hospitals of a foreign land, during her last few years, than in all the intellectual pomp and display of her American life. I, holding, too, that there cannot be so good and true a way of showing humility towards God, as that of practising it towards his creatures, am inclined to deplore Margaret Fuller's scorn towards her fellow-beings, and her want of patience and forbearance with human weakness. She was in her earlier life a self-worshipper; within herself she sought to find sufficient of the beautiful, the true and "To that charge I plead most honestly and the good: to find God in her own soul, not to most earnestly, 'not guilty,'" said Gilbert with turn her life towards God, was her endeavor; perfect calmness, and a smiling lip, though really she nourished the most dangerous, because most wounded feeling was apparent enough, to his seductive and apparently the most noble form mother's eyes, in every line of his face. "The 'of pride-pride of intellect

"I seem to be doing harm instead of good, so retire from my position of advocate. Gilbert must plead his own cause."

"Let me constitute myself judge between you," said John. "I summon you, Gilbert Karne," he continued, to appear before me to answer to the heavy charge of having slandered and falsely accused a fair lady."

Yes, the same sin that overthrew the angels,
And of all sins most easily besets
Mortals, the nearest to angelic nature.

This form of idolatry-the deification of self -is, I believe, the most fruitful source of crime and misery. It is the rock on which many noble, richly frieghted vessels have split. No human creature can limit its interests, can confine its aspirations within so narrow a circle, without coming constantly and painfully in contact with its self-imposed encaging bars; without being well nigh crushed or maddened by the sense of pressure from the vaulted adamant and dolor of inexorable things.' Would that I had a more persuasive eloquence,' to set before you in broad, truth-telling, daylight colors, the danger of the errors I so deeply deplored when reading the memoir of which we have been speaking!

[ocr errors]

I sincerely believe you have no chance of winning her; I believe she would pay you scorn for your love. Will you be guided by me? Will you leave this place soon? Go back to your usual pursuits, and strive to forget her. That were the wiser way. I know how impossible it must seem to you now that you should forget. How hollow a mockery my advice appears; have patience with me, notwithstanding."

"I shall stay here and try my power, mother. I am not sanguine of success now, but it is my duty to try my utmost. It would be cowardly to shrink from any suffering the endeavor may entail on myself. It is a poor love that would not venture somewhat for the sake of the beloved."

"We will stay, then. You will be calm, and strong, and patient; you will rest in the Lord: and in the end may he give thee thy heart's de

Gilbert Karne's voice had deepened, his man-sire !" ner grown more and more earnest, as he proceeded; he had forgotten the playful way in which his defence should have been conducted; he had evidently pleaded for much more than his opinion of a book. John had heard more than he wished; a long silence followed when Gilbert ceased, no one seeming inclined to break it. At length John remembered that such words should not be allowed to sink into Gertrude's heart; he would willingly have provoked from her some contradiction of them, but found she had left the room. After a few constrained and painful efforts at conversation on indifferent subjects, the Karnes took leave of Mrs. Essery and Mr. Elton, and returned home.

Their walk through the very calm and sweet night air was at first a silent one. Mrs. Karne knew that her son was deeply moved, and half guessed the reason of such strong emotion from so apparently slight a cause. She longed and yet half feared to speak to him about Gertrude; after awhile, she said, pressing his arm, on which she leaned, "Gilbert, my son, you take this matter too seriously to heart; you should not suffer such a trifle to affect you so deeply."

"Mother, it is no trifle that troubles me. In spite of all her faults, (oh, Gertrude, your eyes would flash at those words, 'in spite of all your faults!') Gertrude Elton has come very near my heart!"

"I feared this, Gilbert,; but indeed-indeed she is not worthy of you; I have watched her and weighed her; she is not worthy of you; she has no heart to give you; pride, ambition, fill

it, and leave no room for love."

"You do her less than justice, mother. She is a glorious creature! She is dazzled now, almost blinded by looking too much at her own brightness; but there is a right royal and noble nature beneath the overlaying and poisonous scum of error; one strong, fresh breath of truth and love might clear it all away. I must, I will so clear her life. O God! that she would but love me, then I could do all things with her! Ah! she despises me, thinks me weak!-she should then feel my strength and my power for her good-for her salvation;" his voice had grown almost menacing in its deep earnestness.

"Be calm, my son; be calm and listen to me!

CHAPTER VI.

Gertrude passed a restless night after the dispute recorded in the previous chapter. Fighting her battle o'er again, and gaining imaginary vicShe was tories, kept her from sound sleep. troubled, too, by an uncomfortable consciousness that she had lost her temper and her dignity, and must have greatly lowered herself in the estimation of her friends. Yielding to a natural and generous impulse, as soon as it was light she rose, and wrote the following note:

"Dear Mrs. Karne,-I feel that I owe you and Mr. Karne an apology for my conduct last night, which was both uncourteous towards you, and unbecoming in me. It is not in accordance with my nature to delay discharging any debt that I may incur, so please to consider that, by this acknowledgment that I was wrong-not in opinion, but in my manner of supporting that opinion, I make full and ample compensation. Believe me, it is a new and difficult thing to me to make such a confession.

Say to Mr. Karne, for me, that I regret his sentiments should so much have irritated me, that I was not able successfully to dispute their truth.-I remain, dear Mrs. Karne, sincerely your friend,

GERTRUDE ELTON.

"P. S. Take no notice of this note when we meet. I could not hear patiently any comment upon my apology.”

Gertrude kept this note many hours in her possession before she could quite make up her mind to send it. When it was at last despatched, the thought of its being received and discussed, more than once sent the proud hot blood rushing across her face. Yet she firmly believed that it was only for Mrs. Karne's opinion of her that she had the slightest regard. All that day Gertrude was restless and uneasy; her attention constantly wandered from her books; she fancied she heard a step on the gravel-path continually. As often as the wind bowed down the branches, so that their shadow crossed the window, she looked up quickly, fancying that it was some one crossing between the window and the sun. In the even

[blocks in formation]

with either the quantity or quality of his alms," he answered, as he and Aunt Margaret went off. Gertrude settled to her books, and tried to make a long day short, by hard work. Yet, in many an idle minute, Gilbert Karne's peculiar eyes looked out from the dry page, in which they were quite out of place, and his rare sweet smile spread over the close-printed lines, dazzling her, as if a sunbeam had fallen on the leaf.

"You will go to Beech Cottage with me presently, John ?" she asked, in the evening, as she made her brother's tea.

"No one, Aunt Margaret, and it is now so late that they are not the least likely to come to-night." And Gertrude went into the garden, to escape "No! I cannot. My work is sadly behindMrs. Essery's farther wonderments, and to in-hand. There is no necessity for your going, dulge, according to her custom, in uninterrupted either. Aunt Margaret will be home soon, and introspection. She tormented herself most in-will tell us how Mrs. Karne is." geniously by various theories concerning the non- "I promised to go," said Gertrude, quietly. appearance of the Karnes. Mrs. Karne she be"Well, go you must, then." John knew that lieved to be proud; perhaps she was seriously "I promised" was Gertrude's ultimatum, putting offended, and her apology was a useless, as well an end to the possibility of discussion as to the as humiliating concession. With this, and many "to be, or not to be." "Come home as early other as painful thoughts, she agitated her mind, as you can. I want you to read over some and so much excited herself, that again she pass-proofs."

[ocr errors]

ed a sleepless night, and came down the follow- Gertrude's" as soon as I can" was not so soon ing morning looking pale and languid, thereby as she was expected, and had intended to be at incurring many loving, but unwelcome expres-home. sions of solicitude from Mrs. Essery.

That morning Mr. Karne came alone. He was the bearer of a note to Mrs. Essery, begging her to come and solace the solitary confinement of a guiltless prisoner. Mrs. Karne had the morning before sprained her ankle; not thinking much of the sprain at first, she had not sent for any advice, but had contented herself, with lying quiet. This morning Mr. Karne said the foot was much inflamed, and very painful, and Mrs. Karne herself was feverish; and he begged Aunt Margaret, who was well known in the village as a skilful doctress, to come at once and prescribe for his mother.

She found Mrs. Karne much more seriously ill than she had imagined her to be. It seemed quite requisite that Mrs. Essery should not leave her friend that night. And, to satisfy Gilbert they arranged that a medical man, the village doctor, should be called in. "Though," said Mrs. Karne, "I am fully satisfied with the advice of my patient, good doctress."

Dr. Johnson lived in the village, and to go home that way would not make Gertrude's walk very much longer; so it was settled she should call, and send him up at once to Beech Cottage. She put on her bonnet and shawl, and hastened to bid "good-night," before it grew quite dark; Mrs. Essery was full of sympathy for her but when she had done so, she found that Gilbert friend; of regret that she had not known of the stood at the door, hat in hand, evidently meaning accident earlier, and of haste to go to her. to accompany her home. She tried hard to dis"My mother begged that I would try and in-suade him from taking such very unnecessary duce Miss Elton to come and see her in the trouble; telling him there was no such thing as course of the day. She is exacting, you see, and fear in her nature, and that she would not mind not content with one attendant, "he said, look-walking home through Midford alone at miding, not at Gertrude, but at Mrs. Essery. "Will night. Mr. Karne listened with a smile, and a you come, Miss Elton?" he added, turning look of quiet determination to have his way; so quickly, and looking her in the face. she had to submit, and for once did so with a good grace.

Gertrude blushed, and was angry that she did so, and John answered for her. Expressing much regret for Mrs. Karne's accident, and full confidence in Aunt Margaret's nursing, he added, that he could not that day spare Gertrude.

"Give my very kind love to Mrs. Karne, Aunt Margaret, and say how sorry I am for her,' said Gertrude.

"I do not know how little sorry you are, Miss Elton, as you will not spare an hour or two to console her," said Gilbert, smiling. "My mother will be really disappointed."

They maintained a very amicable conversation during their walk, as Gilbert took pains to keep far away from all debatable ground. Gertrude found much to admire in the depth and earnestness of thought, that now, when off her guard, and not feeling compelled to keep on the defensive, irresistibly interested her. Once only they were on the verge of a dispute. They had commented upon the changing hues and falling leaves, and Gilbert lamented the departure of so happy a

summer.

"If Mrs. Karne so much wishes it, I will cer- "It is the most thoroughly idle time I have tainly see her some time to day. I will walk over ever spent in my life. I mean, of course, as to in the evening, and spend an hour, and then ac-external acting.' company my aunt home. "Will that satisfy "How can it have been happy, then? Has not you?" she said, with a smile, very sweet in spite your idleness worried you? Inaction is so galling! Ilave you not longed to be 'up and

of herself.

"You know that a beggar should not quarrel doing?'"

"No, indeed! I have felt that to be still, to stand and wait, was a good thing, I have been pausing to take breath!"

"Well! I have never felt the pleasure or the good of any kind of waiting. Enforced pauses in my progress always irritate me.

[ocr errors]

You are so full of energy and enthusiasm! You are young, too, and I suppose your thoughts of life are always so fraught with purpose, there always seems so much work waiting for you, that you have never been able to realize that life itself was worth living for. You have lived in a hurry hitherto, dear Miss Elton; there are some things to be learned by keeping quiet, and listening." You are surely not a quietist, Mr. Karne ?" "Certainly not, in the technical way in which the term is generally used. As to the nature and merit of real quietism- -but I fear we should not agree in our notions concerning it."

[ocr errors]

"We must agree to differ, if we agree at all, about most things, I fancy, Mr. Karne.”

"About some, certainly; I hope not many; I

believe not most.”

and inquisitive than usual; and Gertrude was growing more nervous again.

"Mr. Karne walked home with me," she answered, slowly and proudly, suppressing, by a powerful effort, every sign of emotion but a vivid blush.

"Does not Mr. Karne intend calling in Dr. Johnson?"

"Yes, he is to go there this evening. Mr. Karne will call for him on his way home."

"It would have been better if you had called as you passed, it is so late; the good man will be gone to bed."

"We were to have done so, but forgot it."Her habit of truth-telling obliged Gertrude to say the whole truth, as well as nothing but the truth.

Forgot it? Hey! Was your conversation so interesting?"

You

Well, take these, look over and correct them," said John, not choosing to provoke his sister farther. Submissive as she generally was to him, he felt he must use his power discreetly.

"I think," answered Gertrude, very haughtily, pride getting the better of embarrassment," that you have cross-questioned me sufficiently. At all events, I shall reply to no more inquiries.say it is late; if you want anything done toแ Why, even about so commonplace and ex-night, I had better begin at once." ternal a thing as the coming of autumnn, about which we spoke just now, we do not hold the same opinion. My soul goes forth joyfully to meet the autumn; I revel in the first cold wind; it tills me with an almost triumphant sense of power and life; it makes me feel strong and brave to do and to dare all things! The prospect of winter never dismays me; the power to act that it brings, more than compensates for the Mrs. Karne continued about the same for mamere enjoyments of which it deprives me. But ny days-not ill enough to keep her bed, nor well here we are, and so I must cut short my rhap-enough to go out, or to dispense with Aunt sody." Margaret's nursing and companionship. The You will not show me Dr. Johnson's house. inflammation of her foot had subsided, but she We passed it, I suppose." said Gilbert, with an was forbidden to use it much for some weeks.almost imperceptible smile. The time fixed for their return to town had almost come, but their departure was likely to be delayed by Mrs. Karne's accident.

Gertrude blushed crimson. "I am very sorry, but you will find it without any difficulty. It is just opposite the large elm-trees that grow in our principal street. Good-night; I hope we shall hear your mother is better to-morrow. I must not ask you in," she continued, hurriedly, "as John is busy; besides, you had better go back to the village as quickly as possible."

[ocr errors]

You will come and see my mother to-morrow?" he asked, still holding the hand she had given him.

[ocr errors]

CHAPTER VII.

4

John, in the meantime, when not so much pre-occupied as to forget his fears and suspicions, tried to keep Gertrude as much at home and at work as possible, hoping thereby to keep her out of mischief.' But many of his bestplanned schemes were frustrated by Mrs. Karne's evident pleasure in her company, and Aunt Margaret's anxiety to have her as much at Beech Cottage as possible. When she went there to spend an evening, however, John contrived to be able to go and fetch her, thus preventing any Quietly and quickly she laid aside her bonnet more dangerous tête à tête walks. But on one and shawl, and went to her brother. She paused memorable day Mrs. Essery was obliged to rea minute before opening the study door, to try turn to Ash Grove to set her house in order, and and assume her usual expression. She felt un-attend to many domestic matters, that had not comfortably conscious of flushed cheeks and trembling hands, and feared they would not pass

"Yes, some time in the day, if I possibly can," she answered, drawing it away, and going in.

unnoticed.

"I am ready, John; what shall I do first ?" she said, when she presented herself.

"You are very late, Gertrude; what kept you?"

"Mrs. Karne was worse. Aunt Margaret is to stay there to night."

"Who came home with you, then? I heard voices in the garden."

John was inclined to be far more observant

prospered under her niece's less skilful and less practised hands; and Gertrude, early in the morning, went to Beech Cottage to supply her place. This day was a very peaceful and happy one. Mrs. Karne's influence with Gertrude was great, and very softening and salutary. Gertrude sincerely and heartily admired her new friend; and the mere exercise of the faculty of admiration, whether in the exaggerated form of hero-worship, or in a milder, more modified degree, always does great good, especially to those who are inclined to enwrap themselves too much in

self, and to see everything through a medium of self.

The silence had become exquisitely painful to them both, when Gilbert broke it, by saying, "If we go to my favorite seat, at the edge of the little fir-crowned hill, we shall see the sunset in full perfection, Miss Elton. Shall you feel cold ?"

66

Gertrude stood motionless, gazing straight on and far away, with wide-open but almost sight-. less eyes; a great dread had fallen on her; she could neither move nor speak. There came no. eloquent blood into her face; she looked cold and statue like.

The greater part of the morning Gilbert read aloud to them passages both of prose and poetry, that were favorites of his and his mother's; many of which Gertrude also knew and admired.Many things which he said, in his quiet, unobtru- No," answered Gertrude, while a quick shudsive way, about his reasons for admiring or der ran through her frame. The same spell of agreeing with what he read, threw a new and obedience was on her; she walked on, feeling bright light on thoughts and ideas, of which Ger-constrained to do so by some external, superior, trude had before believed that she knew and felt controlling power. They reached the edge of the full beauty and force. She was obliged to the hill; they stood, and looked down into the acknowledge to herself that she had been mistak- glory-lighted western vale. en in her first judgment of Mr. Karne-that she "Miss Elton," he dared not even now callhad greatly undervalued his intellectual power. her Gertrude-Miss Elton, you know how soon When a generous spirit becomes conscious of I leave this happy valley; when I do so, must I, having done less than justice, in the reaction of indeed, leave all hope of earthly happiness befeeling it often inclines to do more. With read-hind me?" ing, music, and talking, the hours of what Gertrude had imagined would be a long, because an idle day, slipped quickly away. The evening was very mild and lovely, and Mrs. Karne, tired of lying still on the sofa all day, was anxious to try to get into the garden, with the assistance of Gilbert and Gertrude. After some doubts as to Gilbert, feeling reckless from an almost entire the prudence of allowing her to try, it was set-absence of hope, took her hand. "Gertrude! tled that she should go, if she would allow them will you not hear me? I will speak plainly now. almost to carry her between them. Gertrude Gertrude, I love you-I love you-will you be put her arm round Mrs. Karne's waist, to sup- my wife?" port her better, and as she did so, her hand Very plain words these; no sentimental adorntouched Gilbert's. Urged by some impulse too ment or disguisement of their simple, holy meanstrong for the control of his reason, he pressed her ing. So plain, so truth-telling were they, fingers warmly. The casual touch had thrilled that they at once broke the dreamy spell that her with undefinable and not unpleasant emo-had enthralled her to whom they were addresstion; the intentional pressure brought an angry ed. Life and warmth came into that statue-like and indignant flush into her face. Two or three figure now. She turned abruptly from her long turns up and down the path outside the drawing-gaze into the distance-she turned round, and room windows were all Mrs. Karne could man- confronted him. The red sunset light illumined age. She had talked to them of how soon they her; the rays of the sinking orb just then shone must leave this pretty place, and her kind friends out with their last brightest glory. -of how sorry they should be, and how much she hoped to see them all again before long; she had talked, but had found her companions absent and pre-occupied-had received strange and contradictory answers to her few questions-so she asked them to help her back to her sofa, and then When she turned to confront Gilbert, bitter extend their walk. Gertrude would have staid words were on her tongue; her heart told her she with Mrs. Karne, but was gently repulsed, and had done him wrong, and that consciousness desired to go out again for a little while. A strange added extra bitterness to her feelings. spell of obedience made her comply; and with would have poured on him the scorn she felt at mingling new strange emotions, hopes and fears. her own inward weakness; but when she gazed she found herself alone in the garden with Gil-on him-he looked so noble, so good, so sorrowbert. She felt the warm pressure of Mrs. Karne's ful-there was no red glowing light on his facehand still on her fingers-her earnest maternal a deep. dark shadow fell across the place where kiss still on her cheek; a rushing of thought in he stood-his aspect subdued, though it could congruous, of emotions expectant and inexplica- not move her. She only said, proudly and sternble, overwhelmed her, excluding any definitely, "Mr. Karne, you have made a great mistake. consciousness of who or where she was, of what it was she hoped or feared. She walked on as in a dream; everything swam before her; it was with difficulty she could see her way. Gilbert was calm, but very pale and grave; perhaps there was more fear than hope in his heart. Buting, "Not now; not now." he felt he must now ask, and hear answered, the most momentous question that can be asked and answered between mortals. There are more momentous questions possible for the asking of a human heart, but they concern not human and human-but human and divine.

She looked splendidly beautiful, but there was a proud, fierce light in her eyes, a scornful curve on her lip. One glance was answer enough; there was no love-light, no loving softness, no blushing joy in that glowing face.

She

Forget this folly; I should have thought you knew me better than to address such words to me!" She swept from him majestically, and walked slowly towards the house. She did not think-she kept off thought, pushed it back, say

Mrs. Karne looked up quickly and anxiously, when she entered the room, but did not speak; the expression of Gertrude's face told more than she wished to know. A bitter pang shot through her motherly heart; she could hardly suppress the cry of anguish that came to her lips.

« AnteriorContinuar »