Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 5, No. 31, May, 1860

V >> Various >> Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 5, No. 31, May, 1860

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"There is another world
For all that live and move,--a better world."

If we ever find a path which seems about to lead us up to these
mysteries, it speedily closes against us, and leaves us without any
rational hope of attaining their solution.

MY OWN STORY.

"Oh, tell her, brief is life, but love is long."

"What have I got that you would like to have? Your letters are tied up
and directed to you. Mother will give them to you, when she finds them
in my desk. I could execute my last will myself, if it were not for
giving her additional pain. I will leave everything for her to do
except this: take these letters, and when I am dead, give them to
Frank. There is not a reproach in them, and they are full of wit; but
he won't laugh, when he reads them again. Choose now, what will you
have of mine?"

"Well," I said, "give me the gold pen-holder that Redmond sent you
after he went away."

Laura rose up in her bed, and seized me by my shoulder, and shook me,
crying between her teeth, "You love him! you love him!" Then she fell
back on her pillow. "Oh, if he were here now! He went, I say, to marry
the woman he was engaged to before he saw you. He was nearly mad,
though, when he went. The night mother gave them their last party, when
you wore your black lace dress, and had pink roses in your hair,
somehow I hardly knew you that night. I was in the little parlor,
looking at the flowers on the mantelpiece, when Redmond came into the
room, and, rushing up to me, bent down and whispered, 'Did you see her
go? I shall see her no more; she is walking on the beach with Maurice.'
He sighed so loud that I felt embarrassed; for I was afraid that Harry
Lothrop, who was laughing and talking in a corner with two or three
men, would hear him; but he was not aware that they were there. I did
not know what to do, unless I ridiculed him. 'Follow them,' I said.
'Step on her flounces, and Maurice will have a chance to humiliate you
with some of his cutting, exquisite politeness.' He never answered a
word, and I would not look at him, but presently I understood that
there were tears falling. Oh, you need not look towards me with such
longing; he does not cry for you now. They seemed to bring him to his
senses. He stamped his foot; but the carpet was thick; it only made a
thud. Then he buttoned his coat, giving himself a violent twist as he
did it, and looked at me with such a haughty composure, that, if I had
been you, I should have trembled in my shoes. He walked across the room
toward the group of men.--'Ah, Harry,' he said, 'where is Maurice?'
'Don't you know?' they all cried out; 'he has gone as Miss Denham's
escort?' 'By Jove!' said Harry Lothrop,--'Miss Denham was as handsome
as Cleopatra, to-night. Little Maurice is now singing to her. Did he
take his guitar under his arm? It was here; for I saw a green bag near
his hat, when we came in to-night.' Just then we heard the twang of a
guitar under the window, and Redmond, in spite of himself, could not
help a grimace.--Is it not a droll world?" said Laura, after a pause;
"things come about so contrariwise."

She laughed such a shrill laugh, that I shuddered to hear it, and I
fell a-crying. "But," she continued, "I am going, I trust, where a key
will be given me for this cipher."

Tears came into her eyes, and an expression of gentleness filled her
face.

"It is strange," she said, "when I know that I must die, that I should
be so moved by earthly passions and so interested in earthly
speculations. My heart supplicates God for peace and patience, and at
the same moment my thoughts float away in dreams of the past. I shall
soon be wiser; I am convinced of that. The doctrine of compensation
extends beyond this world; if it be not so, why should I die at twenty,
with all this mysterious suffering of soul? You must not wonder over
me, when I am gone, and ask yourself, 'Why did she live?' Believe that
I shall know why I lived, and let it suffice you and encourage you to
go on bravely. Live and make your powers felt. Your nature is affluent,
and you may yet learn how to be happy."

She sighed softly, and turned her face to the wall, and moved her
fingers as sick people do. She waited for me to cease weeping: my tears
rained over my face so that I could neither see nor speak.

After I had become calmer, she moved toward me again and took my hand:
her own trembled.

"It is for the last time, Margaret. My good, skilful father gives me no
medicine now. My sisters have come home; they sit about the house like
mourners, with idle hands, and do not speak with each other. It is
terrible, but it will soon be over."

She pulled at my hand for me to rise. I staggered up, and met her eyes.
Mine were dry now.

"Do not come here again. It will be enough for my family to look at my
coffin. I feel better to think you will be spared the pain."

I nodded.

"Good-bye!"

A sob broke in her throat.

"Margaret,"--she spoke like a little child,--"I am going to heaven."

I kissed her, but I was blind and dumb. I lifted her half out of the
bed. She clasped her frail arms round me, and hid her face in my bosom.

"Oh, I love you!" she said.

Her heart gave such a violent plunge, that I felt it, and laid her back
quickly. She waved her hand to me with a determined smile. I reached
the door, still looking at her, crossed the dark threshold, and passed
out of the house. The bold sunshine smote my face, and the insolent
wind played about me. The whole earth was as brilliant and joyous as if
it had never been furrowed by graves.

Laura lived some days after my interview with her. She sent me no
message, and I did not go to see her. From the garret-windows of our
house, which was half a mile distant from Laura's, I could see the
windows of the room where she was lying. Three tall poplar-trees
intervened in the landscape. I thought they stood motionless so that
they might not intercept my view while I watched the house of death.
One morning I saw that the blinds had been thrown back and the windows
opened. I knew then that Laura was dead.

The day after the funeral I gave Frank his letters, his miniature, and
the locket which held a ring of his hair.

"Is there a fire?" he asked, when I gave them to him; "I want to burn
these things."

I went to another room with him.

"I'll leave everything here to-day; and may I never see this cursed
place again! Did she die, do you know, because I held her promise that
she would be my wife?"

He threw the papers into the grate, and crowded them down with his
boot, and watched them till the last blackened flake disappeared. He
then took from his neck a hair chain, and threw that into the fire
also.

"It is all done now," he said.

He shook my hand with a firm grasp and left me.

A month later Laura's mother sent me a package containing two bundles
of letters. It startled me to see that the direction was dated before
she was taken ill:--"To be given to Margaret in case of my death.
June 5th, 1848." They were my letters, and those which she had
received from Harry Lothrop. On this envelop was written, "Put these
into the black box he gave you." The gold pen-holder came into my hands
also. _Departure_ was engraved on the handle, and Laura's initials were
cut in an emerald in its top. The black box was an ebony, gold-plated
toy, which Harry Lothrop had given me at the same time Redmond gave
Laura the pen-holder. It was when they went away, after a whole
summer's visit in our little town, the year before. I locked the
letters in the black box, and,

"Whether from reason or from impulse only,"

I know not, but I was prompted to write a line to Harry Lothrop. "Do
not," I said, "write Laura any more letters. Those you have already
written to her are in my keeping, for she is dead. Was it not a
pleasant summer we passed together? The second autumn is already at
hand: time flies the same, whether we are dull or gay. For all this
period what remains except the poor harvest of a few letters?"

I received in answer an incoherent and agitated letter. What was the
matter with Laura? he asked. He had not heard from her for months. Had
any rupture occurred between her and her friend Frank? Did I suppose
she was ever unhappy? He was shocked at the news, and said he must come
and learn the particulars of the event. He thanked me for my note, and
begged me to believe how sincere was his friendship for my poor friend.

"Redmond," he continued, "is, for the present, attached to the engineer
corps to which I belong, and he has offered to take charge of my
business while I am a day or two absent. He is in my room at this
moment, holding your note in his hand, and appears painfully
disturbed."

It was now a little past the time of year when Redmond and Harry
Lothrop had left us,--early autumn. After their departure, Laura and I
had been sentimental enough to talk over the events of their visit.
Recalling these associations, we created an illusion of pleasure which
of course could not last. Harry Lothrop wrote to Laura, but the
correspondence declined and died. As time passed on, we talked less and
less of our visitors, and finally ceased to speak of them. Neither of
us knew or suspected the other of any deep or lasting feeling toward
the two friends. Laura knew Redmond better than I did; at least, she
saw him oftener; in fact, she knew both in a different way. They had
visited her alone; while I had met them almost entirely in society. I
never found so much time to spare as she seemed to have; for everybody
liked her, and everybody sought her. As often as we had talked over our
acquaintance, she was wary of speaking of Redmond. Her last
conversation with me revealed her thoughts, and awakened feelings which
I thought I had buffeted down. The tone of Harry Lothrop's note
perplexed me, and I found myself drifting back into an old state of
mind I had reason to dread.

As I said, the autumn had come round. Its quiet days, its sombre
nights, filled my soul with melancholy. The lonesome moan of the sea
and the waiting stillness of the woods were just the same a year ago;
but Laura was dead, and Nature grieved me. Yet none of us are in one
mood long, and at this very time there were intervals when I found
something delicious in life, either in myself or the atmosphere.

"Moreover, something is or seems
That touches me with mystic gleams."

A golden morning, a starry night, the azure round of the sky, the
undulating horizon of sea, the blue haze which rose and fell over the
distant hills, the freshness of youth, the power of beauty,--all gave
me deep voluptuous dreams.

I can afford to confess that I possessed beauty; for half my faults and
miseries arose from the fact of my being beautiful. I was not vain, but
as conscious of my beauty as I was of that of a flower, and sometimes
it intoxicated me. For, in spite of the comforting novels of the Jane
Eyre school, it is hardly possible to set an undue value upon beauty;
it defies ennui.

As I expected, Harry Lothrop came to see me. The sad remembrance of
Laura's death prevented any ceremony between us; we met as old
acquaintances, of course, although we had never conversed together half
an hour without interruption. I began with the theme of Laura's illness
and death, and the relation which she had held toward me. All at once I
discovered, without evidence, that he was indifferent to what I was
saying; but I talked on mechanically, and like a phantasm the truth
came to my mind. The real man was there,--not the one I had carelessly
looked at and known through Laura.

I became silent.

He twisted his fingers in the fringe of my scarf, which had fallen off,
and I watched them.

"Why," I abruptly asked, "have I not known you before?"

He let go the fringe, and folded his hands, and in a dreamy voice
replied,--

"Redmond admires you."

"What a pity!" I said. "And you,--you admire me, or yourself, just now;
which?"

He flushed slightly, but continued with a bland voice, which irritated
and interested me.

"All that time I was so near you, and you scarcely saw me; what a
chance I had to study you! Your friend was intelligent and sympathetic,
so we struck a league of friendship: I could dare so much with her,
because I knew that she was engaged to marry Mr. Ballard. I own that I
have been troubled about her since I went away. How odd it is that I am
here alone with you in this room! how many times I have wished it! I
liked you best here; and while absent, the remembrance of it has been
inseparable from the remembrance of you,--a picture within a picture. I
know all that the room contains,--the white vases, and the wire
baskets, with pots of Egyptian lilies and damask roses, the books bound
in green and gold, the engravings of nymphs and fauns, the crimson bars
in the carpet, the flowers on the cushions, and, best of all, the
arched window and its low seat. But I had promised myself never to see
you: it was all I could do for Laura. She is dead, and I am here."

I rose and walked to the window, and looked out on the misty sea, and
felt strangely.

"Another lover," I thought,--"and Redmond's friend, and Laura's. But it
all belongs to the comedy we play."

He came to where I stood.

"I know you so well," he said,--"your pride, your self-control, even
your foibles: but they attract one, too. You did not escape heart-whole
from Redmond's influence. He is not married yet, but he will be; he is
a chivalrous fellow. It was a desperate matter between you two,--a
hand-to-hand struggle. It is over with you both, I believe: you are
something alike. Now may I offer you my friendship? If I love you, let
me say so. Do not resist me. I appeal to the spirit of coquetry which
tempted you before you saw me to-night. You are dressed to please me."

I was thinking what I should say, when he skilfully turned the
conversation into an ordinary channel. He shook off his dreamy manner,
and talked with his old vivacity. I was charmed a little; an
association added to the charm, I fancy. It was late at night when he
took his leave. He had arranged it all; for a man brought his carriage
to the door and drove him to the next town, where he had procured it to
come over from the railway.

When I was shut in my room for the night, rage took possession of me. I
tore off my dress, twisted my hair with vehemence, and hurried to bed
and tried to go to sleep, but could not, of course. As when we press
our eyelids together for meditation or sleep, violet rings and changing
rays of light flash and fade before the darkened eyeballs, so in the
dark unrest of my mind the past flashed up, and this is what I saw:--

The county ball, where Laura and I first met Redmond, Harry Lothrop,
and Maurice. We were struggling through the crowd of girls at the
dressing-room door, to rejoin Frank, who was waiting for us. As we
passed out, satisfied with the mutual inspection of our dresses of
white silk, which were trimmed with bunches of rose-geranium, we saw a
group of strangers close by us, buttoning their gloves, looking at
their boots, and comparing looks. Laura pushed her fan against my arm;
we looked at each other, and made signs behind Frank, and were caught
in the act, not only by him, but by a tall gentleman in the group which
she had signalled me to notice.

The shadow of a smile was travelling over his face as I caught his eye,
but he turned away so suddenly that I had no opportunity for
embarrassment. An usher gave us a place near the band, at the head of
the hall.

"Do not be reckless, Laura," I said,--"at least till the music gives
you an excuse."

"You are obliged to me, you know," she answered, "for directing your
attention to such attractive prey. Being in bonds myself, I can only
use my eyes for you: don't be ungrateful."

The band struck up a crashing polka, and she and Frank whirled away,
with a hundred others. I found a seat and amused myself by contrasting
the imperturbable countenances of the musicians with those of the
dancers. The perfumes the women wore floated by me. These odors, the
rhythmic motion of the dancers, and the hard, energetic music
exhilarated me. The music ended, and the crowd began to buzz. The loud,
inarticulate speech of a brilliant crowd is like good wine. As my
acquaintances gathered about me, I began to feel its electricity, and
grew blithe and vivacious. Presently I saw one of the ushers speaking
to Frank, who went down the hall with him.

"Oh, my prophetic soul!" said Laura, "they are coming."

Frank came back with the three, and introduced them. Redmond asked me
for the first quadrille, and Harry Lothrop engaged Laura. Frank said to
me behind his handkerchief,--"It's _en regle_; I know where they came
from; their fathers are brave, and their mothers are virtuous."

The quadrille had not commenced, so I talked with several persons near;
but I felt a constraint, for I knew I was closely observed by the
stranger, who was entirely quiet. Curiosity made me impatient for the
dance to begin; and when we took our places, I was cool enough to
examine him. Tall, slender, and swarthy, with a delicate moustache over
a pair of thin scarlet lips, penetrating eyes, and a tranquil air. My
antipodes in looks, for I was short and fair; my hair was straight and
black like his, but my eyes were blue, and my mouth wide and full.

"What an unnaturally pleasant thing a ball-room is!" he said,--"before
the dust rises and the lights flare, I mean. But nobody ever leaves
early; as the freshness vanishes, the extravagance deepens. Did you
ever notice how much faster the musicians play as it grows late? When
we open the windows, the fresh breath of the night increases the
delirium within. I have seen the quietest women toss their faded
bouquets out of the windows without a thought of making a comparison
between the flowers and themselves."

"My poor geraniums!" I said,--"what eloquence!"

He laughed, and answered,--

"My friend Maurice yonder would have said it twice as well."

We were in the promenade then, and stopped where the said Maurice was
fanning himself against the wall.

"May I venture to ask you for a waltz, Miss Denham? it is the next
dance on the card," said Maurice;--"but of course you are engaged."

I gave him my card, and he began to mark it, when Redmond took it, and
placed his own initials against the dance after supper, and the last
one on the list. He left me then, and I saw him a moment after talking
with Laura.

We passed a gay night. When Laura and I equipped for our ten miles'
ride, it was four in the morning. Redmond helped Frank to pack us in
the carriage, and we rewarded him with a knot of faded leaves.

"This late event," said Laura, with a ministerial air, after we had
started, "was a providential one. You, my dear Frank, were at liberty
to pursue your favorite pastime of whist, in some remote apartment,
without being conscience-torn respecting me. I have danced very well
without you, thanks to the strangers. And you, Margaret, have had an
unusual opportunity of displaying your latent forces. Three such
different men! But let us drive fast. I am in want of the cup of tea
which mother will have waiting for me."

We arrived first at my door. As I was going up the steps, Laura broke
the silence; for neither of us had spoken since her remarks.

"By the way, they are coming here to stay awhile. They are anxious for
some deep-sea fishing. They'll have it, I think."

I heard Frank's laugh of delight at Laura's wit, as the carriage drove
off.

It was our last ball that season.

It was late in the spring; and when Redmond came with his two friends
and settled at the hotel in our town, it was early summer. When I saw
them again, they came with Laura and Frank to pay me a visit. Laura was
already acquainted with them, and asked me if I did not perceive her
superiority in the fact.

"Let us arrange," said Harry Lothrop, "some systematic plan of
amusement by sea and land. I have a pair of horses, Maurice owns a
guitar, and Redmond's boat will be here in a few days. Jones, our
landlord, has two horses that are tolerable under the saddle. Let us
ride, sail, and be serenaded. The Lake House, Jones again, is eight
miles distant. This is Monday; shall we go there on horse-back
Wednesday?"

Laura looked mournfully at Frank, who replied to her look,--

"You must go; I cannot; I shall go back to business to-morrow."

I glanced at Redmond; he was contemplating a portrait of myself at the
age of fourteen.

"Shall we go?" Laura asked him.

"Nothing, thank you," he answered.

We all laughed, and Harry Lothrop said,--

"Redmond, my boy, how fond you are of pictures!"

Redmond, with an unmoved face, said,--

"Don't be absurd about my absent-mindedness. What were you saying?"

And he turned to me.

"Do you like our plan," I asked, "of going to the Lake House? There is
a deep pond, a fine wood, a bridge,--perch, pickerel,--a one-story inn
with a veranda,--ham and eggs, stewed quince, elderberry wine,--and a
romantic road to ride over."

"I like it."

Frank opened a discussion on fishing; Laura and I withdrew, and went to
the window-seat.

"I am light-hearted," I said.

"It is my duty to be melancholy," she replied; "but I shall not mope
after Frank has gone."

"'After them the deluge,'" said I. "How long will they stay?"

"Till they are bored, I fancy."

"Oh, they are going; we must leave our recess."

Frank and she remained; the others bid us good-night.

"I shall not come again till Christmas," he said. "These college-chaps
will amuse you and make the time pass; they are young,--quite suitable
companions for you girls. _Vive la bagatelle!_"

He sighed, and, drawing Laura's arm in his, rose to go. She groaned
loudly, and he nipped her ears.

"Good-bye, Margaret; let Laura take care of you. There is a deal of
wisdom in her."

We shook hands, Laura moaning all the while, and they went home.

Frank and Laura had been engaged three years. He was about thirty, and
was still too poor to marry.

Wednesday proved pleasant. We had an early dinner, and our cavalcade
started from Laura's. I rode my small bay horse Folly, a gift from my
absentee brother. His coat was sleeker than satin; his ears moved
perpetually, and his wide nostrils were always in a quiver. He was not
entirely safe, for now and then he jumped unexpectedly; but I had
ridden him a year without accident, and felt enough acquainted with him
not to be afraid.

Redmond eyed him.

"You are a bold rider," he said.

"No," I answered,--"a careful one. Look at the bit, and my whip, too. I
cut his hind legs when he jumps. Observe that I do not wear a long
skirt. I can slip off the saddle, if need be, without danger."

"That's all very well; but his eyes are vicious; he will serve you a
trick some day."

"When he does, I'll sell him for a cart-horse."

Laura and Redmond rode Jones's horses. Harry Lothrop was mounted on his
horse Black, a superb, thick-maned creature, with a cluster of white
stars on one of his shoulders. Maurice rode a wall-eyed pony. Our
friends Dickenson and Jack Parker drove two young ladies in a
carriage,--all the saddle-horses our town could boast of being in use.
We were in high spirits, and rode fast. I was occupied in watching
Folly, who had not been out for several days. At last, tired of tugging
at his mouth, I gave him rein, and he flew along. I tucked the edge of
my skirt under the saddle-flap, slanted forward, and held the bridle
with both hands close to his head. A long sandy reach of road lay
before me. I enjoyed Folly's fierce trotting; but, as I expected, the
good horse Black was on my track, while the rest of the party were far
behind. He soon overtook me. Folly snorted when he heard Black's step.
We pulled up, and the two horses began to sidle and prance, and throw
up their heads so that we could not indulge in a bit of conversation.

"Brute!" said Harry Lothrop,--"if I were sure of getting on again, I
would dismount and thrash you awfully."

"Remember Pickwick," I said; "don't do it."

I had hardly spoken, when the strap of his cap broke, and it fell from
his head to the ground. I laughed, and so did he.

"I can hold your horse while you dismount for it."

I stopped Folly, and he forced Black near enough for me to seize the
rein and twist it round my hand; when I had done so, Folly turned his
head, and was tempted to take Black's mane in his teeth; Black felt it,
reared, and came down with his nose in my lap. I could not loose my
hands, which confused me, but I saw Harry Lothrop making a great leap.
Both horses were running now, and he was lying across the saddle,
trying to free my hand. It was over in an instant. He got his seat, and
the horses were checked.

"Good God!" he said, "your fingers are crushed."

He pulled off my glove, and turned pale when he saw my purple hand.

"It is nothing," I said.

But I was miserably fatigued, and prayed that the Lake House might come
in sight. We were near the wood, which extended to it, and I was
wondering if we should ever reach it, when he said,--

"You must dismount, and rest under the first tree. We will wait there
for the rest of the party to come up."

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