Moods
find no disloyalty in a compassion scarcely less deep and self-forgetful
than his own would have been had he shared their secret. Only pausing to
place himself upon the seat she had left, Warwick put off her hat, and
turning her face to his regarded it with such unfeigned and entire
content her wavering purpose was fixed by a single look. Then as he
began to tell the story of the past she forgot everything but the rapid
words she listened to, the countenance she watched, so beautifully
changed and softened, it seemed as if she had never seen the man before,
or saw him now as we sometimes see familiar figures glorified in dreams.
In the fewest, kindest words Warwick told her of Ottila, the promise and
the parting; then, as if the dearer theme deserved less brevity, he
lingered on it as one lingers at a friend's door, enjoying in
anticipation the welcome he is sure awaits him.
"The night we walked together by the river--such a wilful yet winning
comrade as I had that day, and how I enjoyed it all!--that night I
suspected that Geoffrey loved you, Sylvia, and was glad to think it. A
month later I was sure of it, and found in that knowledge the great
hardship of my life, because I loved you myself. Audacious thing! how
dared you steal into my heart and take possession when I had turned my
last guest out and barred the door? I thought I had done with the
sentiment that had so nearly wrecked me once, but see how blind I
was--the false love only made me readier for the true. You never seemed
a child to me, Sylvia, because you have an old soul in a young body, and
your father's trials and temptations live again in you. This first
attracted me. I liked to watch, to question, to study the human enigma
to which I had found a clue from its maker's lips. I liked your candor
and simplicity, your courage and caprice. Even your faults found favor
in my eyes; for pride, will, impetuosity were old friends of mine, and I
liked to see them working in another shape. At first you were a
curiosity, then an amusement, then a necessity. I wanted you, not
occasionally, but constantly. You put salt and savor into life for me;
for whether you spoke or were silent, were sweet or sour, friendly or
cold, I was satisfied to feel your nearness, and always took away an
inward content which nothing else could give me. This affection was so
unlike the other that I deceived myself for a time--not long. I soon
knew what had befallen me, soon felt that this sentiment was good to
feel, because I forgot my turbulent and worser self and felt the nobler
regenerated by the innocent companionship you gave me. I wanted you, but
it was not the touch of hands or lips, the soft encounter of eyes, the
tones of tenderness, I wanted most. It was that something beyond my
reach, vital and vestal, invisible, yet irresistible; that something, be
it heart, soul, or mind, which drew me to you by an attraction genial
and genuine as itself. My Sylvia, that was love, and when it came to me
I took it in, sure that whether its fruition was granted or denied I
should be a manlier man for having harbored it even for an hour. Why
turn your face away? Well, hide it if you will, but lean here as you did
once so long ago."
She let him lay it on his shoulder, still feeling that Moor was one to
look below the surface of these things and own that she did well in
giving so pure a love a happy moment before its death, as she would have
cherished Warwick had he laid dying.
"On that September evening, as I sat alone, I had been thinking of what
might be and what must be. Had decided that I would go away for
Geoffrey's sake. He was fitter than I to have you, being so gentle, and
in all ways ready to possess a wife. I was so rough, such a vagrant, so
full of my own purposes and plans, how could I dare to take into my
keeping such a tender little creature as yourself? I thought you did not
care for me; I knew any knowledge of my love would only mar his own; so
it was best to go at once and leave him to the happiness he so well
deserved. Just then you came to me, as if the wind had blown my desire
to my arms. Such a loving touch that was! it nearly melted my resolve,
it seemed hard not to take the one thing I wanted, when it came to me so
opportunely. I yearned to break that idle promise, made when I was vain
in my own conceit, and justly punished for its folly; but you said keep
it, and I did. You could not understand my trouble, and when I sat
before you so still, perhaps looking grim and cold, you did not know how
I was wrestling with my unruly self. I am not truly generous, for the
relinquishment of any cherished object always costs a battle, and I too
often find I am worsted. For the first time I dared not meet your eyes
till you dived into mine with that expression wistful and guileless,
which has often made me feel as if we stood divested of our bodies, soul
to soul.
"Tongue I could control, heart I could not. Up it sprung stronger than
will, swifter than thought, and answered you. Sylvia, had there been one
ray of self-consciousness in those steady eyes of yours, one atom of
maiden shame, or fear, or trouble, I should have claimed you as my own.
There was not; and though you let me read your face like an open book,
you never dreamed what eloquence was in it. Innocent heart, that loved
and had not learned to know it. I saw this instantly, saw that a few
more such encounters would show it to you likewise, and felt more
strongly than before that if ever the just deed to you, the generous one
to Geoffrey were done, it should be then. For that was the one moment
when your half-awakened heart could fall painlessly asleep again, if I
did not disturb it, and dream on till Geoffrey woke it, to find a
gentler master than I could be to it."
"It could not, Adam; you had wholly roused it, and it cried for you so
long, so bitterly, oh, why did you not come to answer it before?"
"How could I till the year was over? Was I not obeying you in keeping
that accursed promise? God knows I have made many blunders, but I think
the most senseless was that promise; the most short-sighted, that
belief. What right had I to fetter my tongue, or try to govern love?
Shall I ever learn to do my own work aright, and not meddle with the
Lord's? Sylvia, take this presumptuous and domineering devil out of me
in time, lest I blunder as blindly after you are mine as I have before.
Now let me finish before Mark comes to find us. I went away, you know,
singing the farewell I dared not speak, and for nine months kept myself
sane and steady with whatever my hands found to do. If ever work of mine
is blessed it will be that, for into it I put the best endeavor of my
life. Though I had renounced you, I kept my love; let it burn day and
night, fed it with labor and with prayer, trusting that this selfish
heart of mine might be recast and made a fitter receptacle for an
enduring treasure. In May, far at the West, I met a woman who knew
Geoffrey; had seen him lately, and learned that he had lost you. She was
his cousin, I his friend, and through our mutual interest in him this
confidence naturally came about. When she told me this hope blazed up,
and all manner of wild fancies haunted me. Love is arrogant, and I
nourished a belief that even I might succeed where Geoffrey failed. You
were so young, you were not likely to be easily won by any other, if
such a man had asked in vain, and a conviction gradually took possession
of me that you _had_ understood, _had_ loved, and were yet waiting for
me. A month seemed an eternity to wait, but I left myself no moment for
despair, and soon turned my face to Cuba, finding renewed hope on the
way. Gabriel went with me, told me how Ottila had searched for me, and
failing to find me had gone back to make ready for my coming. How she
had tried to be all I desired, and how unworthy I was of her. This was
well, but the mention of your name was better, and much close
questioning gave me the scene which he remembered, because Ottila had
chidden him sharply for his disclosures to yourself. Knowing you so
well, I gathered much from trifles which were nothing in Gabriel's eyes.
I felt that regard for me, if nothing warmer, had prompted your interest
in them; and out of the facts given me by Faith and Gabriel I built
myself a home, which I have inhabited as a guest till now, when I know
myself its master, and welcome its dear mistress, so my darling."
He bent to give her tender greeting, but Sylvia arrested him.
"Not yet, Adam! not yet! Go on, before it is too late to tell me as you
wish."
He thought it was some maidenly scruple, and though he smiled at it he
respected it, for this same coyness in the midst of all her whims had
always been one of her attractions in his eye.
"Shy thing! I will tame you yet, and draw you to me as confidingly as I
drew the bird to hop into my hand and eat. You must not fear me, Sylvia,
else I shall grow tyrannical; for I hate fear, and like to trample on
whatever dares not fill its place bravely, sure that it will receive its
due as trustfully as these little mosses sit among the clouds and find a
spring to feed them even in the rock. Now I will make a speedy end of
this, pleasant as it is to sit here feeling myself no longer a solitary
waif. I shall spare you the stormy scenes I passed through with Ottila,
because I do not care to think of my Cleopatra while I hold 'my fine
spirit Ariel' in my arms. She had done her best, but had I been still
heart-free I never could have married her. She is one of those tameless
natures which only God can govern; I dared not, even when I thought I
loved her, for much as I love power I love truth more. I told her this,
heard prayers, reproaches, threats, and denunciations; tried to leave
her kindly, and then was ready for my fate with you. But I was not to
have my will so easily. I had fallen into the net, and was not to leave
it till the scourging had been given. So like that other wandering
Christian, I cried out, submitted, and was the meeker for it. I had to
wait a little before the ship sailed; I would not stay at El Labarinto,
Gabriel's home, for Ottila was there; and though the fever raged at
Havana, I felt secure in my hitherto unbroken health. I returned there,
and paid the penalty; for weeks of suffering taught me that I could not
trifle with this body of mine, sturdy as it seemed."
"Oh, Adam, who took care of you? Where did you lie and suffer all that
time?"
"Never fret yourself concerning that; I was not neglected. A sister of
the 'Sacred Heart' took excellent care of me, and a hospital is as good
as a palace when one neither knows nor cares where he is. It went hardly
with me, I believe; but being resolved to live, I fought it through.
Death looked at me, had compassion, and passed by. There is a Haytien
proverb which must comfort you if I am a gaunt ghost of my former self:
'A lean freeman is better than a fat slave.' There comes the first smile
I have seen; but my next bit of news will bring a frown, I think. When I
was well enough to creep out, I learned that Ottila was married. You
heard the rumor, doubtless, but not the name, for Gabriel's and mine
were curiously blended in many minds by the suddenness of my
disappearance and his appearance as the bridegroom. It was like
her,--she had prepared for me as if sure I was to fill the place I had
left, hoping that this confidence of hers would have its due effect upon
me. It did try me sorely, but an experience once over is as if it had
never been, as far as regret or indecision is concerned; therefore
wedding gowns and imperious women failed to move me. To be left a
groomless bride stung that fiery pride of hers more than many an actual
shame or sin would have done. People would pity her, would see her loss,