“varnham was absent when our confession was first looked, then breathed, and at last desperately uttered. he had been gone more than a week, making preparations for our return to ashton. had every action of our lives been counted during that time, the most austere moralist could have detected no wrong. the sin with us was too subtle and deep for human eyes, even for our own. we could not believe that feelings which had no evil wish might be in themselves evil. but when my husband returned, the pang of shame and regret that fell upon us should have been proof enough of wrong. when had we ever blushed and trembled in his presence before?
“we were alone, murray and myself, in the little boudoir which i have mentioned so often. he was sitting on the sofa, to which my husband had so tenderly lifted me on the night before my mother’s funeral, reading one of my favorite italian poets. i sat a little way off, listening to the deep melody of his voice, watching the alternate fire and shadow that played within the depths of his large eyes, the clear, bold expression of his forehead, and the smile upon his lips, which seemed imbued with the soft poetry that dropped in melody from them.
“i had forgotten everything for the time, and was lost in the first bewildering dream which follows, with its delicious quietude, the entire outpouring of the soul; when thought itself arises but as sweet exhalation from the one grand passion which pervades the 70whole being; when even a sense of wrong but haunts the heart as the bee slumbers within the urn of a flower, rendered inert and stingless by the wealth of honey which surrounds it.
“murray had been bred in society, and could not so readily fling off the consciousness of our position. a shadow, darker than the words of his author warranted, settled on his brow as he read, and more than once he raised his eyes from the page in the middle of a sentence, and fixed them with a serious and almost melancholy earnestness on my face. then i would interrupt his thoughts with some of the pleasant words which love sends up from the full heart, naturally as song gushes from the bosom of a nightingale. he would muse a moment after this and resume his book, allowing his voice to revel in the melody of the language, then hurry on with a stern and abrupt emphasis, as one who strives by rapidity of utterance to conquer painful thoughts.
“the sudden recoil of my heart was suffocating, then its deep, heavy throbbing grew almost audible. i felt the blood ebbing away from my face and a faintness was upon me. murray started and grasped my hand with a violence that pained me.
“‘lady granby, be yourself; why do you tremble? have we in wish or act wronged this man?’
“‘no—no; the angels of heaven must bear us witness—but i have a secret here; and oh, god! forgive me; i am not glad to see him.’
“‘and i,’ he said, turning pale, ‘am i the cause of this terror?—indeed, lady, it is better that we part now—this weakness——’
“the very thought of his departure drove me wild. ‘i am not weak—nor wicked either,’ i said, with a proud smile; ‘see if i prove so?’
“then wringing my hand from his grasp i deliberately opened the sash-door and went out to meet my 71husband. he was already upon the balcony, and sprang forward to greet me with more eager affection than i had ever witnessed in him before. during one moment i was drawn to his bosom unresistingly. i was faint with agitation. he must have felt me tremble, but evidently imputed the emotion to joy at his sudden return; with his arms about my waist he drew me into the room. oh! how thoroughly i loathed the hypocrisy which one forbidden feeling had imposed on the future! murray nerved himself for the interview, and stood up, pale and collected, to receive his late friend. when he saw my position, a faint flush shot over his forehead, but his forced composure was in nothing else disturbed.
“i put away my husband’s arm and sunk to a seat, overwhelmed with a painful consciousness of the moral degradation i had heaped upon myself.
“murray went up to london on the next day; a few brief words of farewell were all that could be granted me. i went away by myself and wept bitterly.
“the society of my husband grew wearisome, and yet i said again and again to myself: ‘we have done him no wrong; this love which fills my heart never was his—never existed before; it is pure and honorable.’ as i said this, my cheek burned with the falsehood. was not deception itself a sin? oh! how many painful apprehensions haunted my imagination. for two days i was tormented by shadowy evils. my mornings were full of inquietude, and my sleep was not rest. then came his first letter, so considerate and gentle, so full of manly solicitude for my peace of mind. i flung aside all doubt and self-distrust. happiness sprung back to my heart like a glad infant to its mother’s bosom. the earth seemed bursting into blossom around me. again i surrendered my spirit to its first sweet dream of contentment, and strove to convince myself that feelings were harmless till they sprang 72into evil actions. when my intellect refused this sophistry i resolutely cast all thought aside.
“murray joined us at ashton. among the guests who spent christmas with us was a young lady of refined and pleasant manners, the orphan of a noble family, whose entailed property had fallen to a distant heir on the death of her father. thus she was left almost penniless, dependent on a wealthy aunt, who seemed anxious to get rid of her trust with as little expense as possible.
“my sympathy was excited in the young lady’s behalf, for her coarse relative supplied her but sparingly with the means of supporting her station in society, and in her vulgar eagerness to have the poor girl settled and off her hands was continually compromising her delicacy and wounding her pride.
“louisa was reserved, and somewhat cold in her disposition, but my feelings had been enlisted in her behalf, and i contrived every little stratagem in my power to supply her want of wealth and to shield her from the match-making schemes of her aunt.
“being much in my society, she was thrown into constant companionship with murray. he did not at first seem interested in her, for she was retiring and not really beautiful, but by degrees the gentle sweetness of her character won its way to his heart, and he seemed pleased with her society, but there was nothing in the intimacy to alarm me. i was rather gratified than otherwise that he should be interested in my protégée.
“when we again took up our residence in town i occasionally acted as chaperon to miss jameson, but as my hope centered more trustfully around one object, my taste for general society diminished, and i surrounded myself with a small circle of distinguished individuals, and mingled but little in the dissipations 73of the world, where her aunt was continually forcing her to exhibit herself. i was still interested in her, but the repulsive coarseness of her relative prevented a thorough renewal of the intimacy which had existed while she was yet my guest.
“a year passed by, in which had been crowded a whole life of mingled happiness and misery, a dreamy tumultuous year that had been one long struggle to preserve the love which had become a portion of my soul, and to maintain that integrity of thought and deed, without which life would be valueless.
“the blow fell at length; murray was about to be married. he did not allow me to be tortured by public rumor, but came and told me with his own lips.
“i had been very sad all the morning, and when i heard his familiar knock at the street-door, and the footsteps to which my heart had never yet failed to thrill approaching my boudoir, a dark presentiment fell upon me, and i trembled as if a death-watch was sounding in my ears. but i had learned to conceal my feelings, and sat quietly in my cushioned chair, occupied with a piece of fine needlework when he entered.
“he was deeply agitated, and his hand shook violently when i arose to receive him. mine was steady. i was not about to heap misery on the heart that had clung to me. he spoke of those days at the parsonage; of the dreams, those impossible dreams, out of which we were to win happiness, innocent happiness to ourselves—a happiness that should wrong no one, and yet fill our whole lives. he spoke of it all as a dream—a sad, mocking delusion, which was like feeding the soul on husks. it was in vain, he said, to deceive ourselves longer; the love which had existed—he did not say still existed—between us must inevitably perish under the restraints which honor and conscience 74imposed. we were sure of nothing, not even of those brief moments of social intercourse which society allows to those who have no secret feelings to conceal.
“i neither expostulated nor reasoned, but with a calmness which startled myself i inquired the name of my rival.
“it was louisa jameson, the creature whom i had cherished even as a sister. no matter; i had nerved myself to bear all. if my heart trembled, no emotions stirred my face. he had not yet proposed, but he knew that she loved him, and her position was one to excite his compassion. still he would not propose unless i consented. he had come to throw himself on my generosity.
“i did consent. measuredly and coldly the words were spoken, but they did not satisfy him. he would have me feel willing—his happiness should not be secured at the expense of mine, if from my whole heart i could not resign him. no advantage should be taken of a freedom rendered only from the lips.
“for three whole hours i remained numb and still. at last my maid came to remind me of a ball and supper to which i was engaged.
“i arose and bade her array me in my gayest apparel. never do i remember myself so beautiful as on that night. there was fever in my cheek, the fire of a tortured spirit—a wild, sparkling wit flashed from my lips, and among the gay and the lovely i was most gay and most recklessly brilliant.
“murray called in the morning, for we were to be friends still. i had suffered much during the night, but i put rouge on my pallid cheeks, and with forced cheerfulness went down to receive him. he appeared ill at ease. perhaps he feared reproaches after i recovered from the first effect of his desertion, but the anguish it had wrought was too deep for tears or weak 75complaints; when the death-blow comes, we cease to struggle.
“i ascertained that miss jameson’s aunt had refused to bestow a fortune with her niece, and i knew that murray was far, far from wealthy enough to meet the expenses of an establishment befitting his rank. i could not bear that his fine mind should be cramped by the petty annoyances of a limited income, nor his wife forever crushed beneath the humiliating consciousness of poverty. varnham never allowed himself to exceed his own little income, and the revenues of the granby estates far exceeded our general expenditure. it was, therefore, easy for me to raise a sum sufficient to endow my rival, and thus indirectly secure a competence to him.
“i gave orders to my agent that twenty thousand pounds should be immediately raised for me. when the sum was secured i went privately to the house of my rival, and, with little persuasion, induced her parsimonious relative to present it to miss jameson as the gift of her own generosity. i knew that my secret was safe, for she was a worldly woman and was not likely to deprive herself of the éclat of a generous deed by exposing my share in it.
“then i thought of varnham for the first time in many days, not as the husband i had been estranged from, but as the kind, good friend who had watched beside me, and loved me amid all my sorrows. i was not wholly in my right mind, and reflected imperfectly on the step that i was about to take. mr. varnham was at ashton, and i resolved to go to him, but with no definite aim, for i was incapable of any fixed plan. but he was my only friend, and my poor heart turned back to him in its emergency of sorrow with the trust of former years. i forgot that it had locked up the only well-spring of sympathy left to it by the very course of its anguish.
76“i flung a large cloak over my splendid attire, and while my carriage was yet at the door entered it and ordered them to proceed to ashton. we travelled all day; i did not once leave my seat, but remained muffled in my cloak, with the hood drawn over my head, lost in the misty half-consciousness of partial insanity. i believe that the carriage stopped more than once, that food and rest were urged on me by my servants, but i took no heed, only ordering them to drive forward, for the rapid motion relieved me.
“it was deep in the night when we reached ashton. everything was dark and gloomy; but one steady lamp glimmered from the library window, and i knew that varnham was up, and there. the library was in the back part of the house, and the sound of the carriage had not reached it.
“i made my way through the darkened hall and entered my husband’s presence. for one moment the feverish beating of my heart was hushed by the holy tranquillity of that solitary student. there was something appalling in the sombre, gloomy magnificence of the room in which he sat. the noble, painted window seemed thick and impervious in the dim light. the rich bookcases were in shadow, and cold marble statues looked down from their pedestals with a pale, grave-like beauty as i entered.
“varnham was reading. one small lamp alone shed its lustre on the rare mosaic table over which he bent, and threw a broad light across the pale, calm forehead which had something heavenly in its tranquil smoothness. i was by his side, and yet he did not see me. the solemn stillness of the room had cleared away my brain, and for a moment i felt the madness of my intended confidence. i staggered, and should have fallen but for the edge of the table, which i grasped with a force that made the lamp tremble.
“varnham started up astonished at my sudden presence; 77but when he saw me standing before him, with the fire of excitement burning in my eyes and crimsoning my cheeks, with jewels twinkling in my hair and blazing on my girdle, where it flashed out from the cloak which my trembling hand had become powerless to hold, he seemed intuitively to feel the evil destiny that i had wrought for myself. his face became pale, and it was a minute before he could speak. then he came forward, drew me kindly to his bosom and kissed my forehead with a tenderness that went to my heart like the hushing of my mother’s voice. i flung myself upon his bosom and wept with a burst of passionate grief. he seated himself, drew me closer to his heart, and besought me to tell him the cause of my sorrow.
“i did tell him—and then he put me from his bosom as if i had been a leper, with a cry of rage, bitter rage on the lips that had never till then known aught but blessings; not against me—no, he could never have denounced me—but on murray. then i bethought me of the evil that might follow. i arose from the floor and fell before him, where he stood, and tried to plead and to call back all i had said. he lifted me again in his arms, though i felt a tremor run through his whole frame as he did so; he told me to be comforted, said many soothing words, and promised never to reproach me again, but he said nothing of him, and when i again strove to plead in his defence he put me sternly away. then i went wholly mad.
“i can never describe the cold, hopeless struggle of my heart to retain the delusions which haunted my insane moments when my intellect began to resume its functions. it seemed as if some cruel spirit were gradually tightening the bonds of earth about me, and ruthlessly dragging me back to reason, while my spirit clung with intense longing to its own wild ideal.
“it was a sad, sad night to me when that star arose in the sky and sent its pure beams down to the bosom 78of my acacia, and i knew that the clear orb would henceforth be to me only a star—that the realms which i had located in its distant bosom were but the dream of a diseased fancy that would return no more with its beautiful and vivid faith which had no power to reason or doubt.
“but we can force the fantasies of a mind no more than the affections of the heart. my disease left me; then the passions and aspirations of my old nature started up, one after another, like marble statues over which a midnight blackness had fallen. and there in the midst, more firmly established than ever, his image remained—his name, his being, and the sad history of my own sufferings had, for one whole year, been to me but as an indefinite and painful dream. but sorrow and insanity itself had failed to uproot the love which had led to such misery. can i be blamed that i prayed for insensibility again?”
