CHAPTER XLII. MORE SURPRISES.
The same evening I received my "abstract" by the hands of a clerk.
It was an intensely characteristic document. My expenses wereremorselessly calculated downward to shillings and even to pence; andour unfortunate messenger's instructions in respect to his expenditurewere reduced to a nicety which must have made his life in Americanothing less than a burden to him. In mercy to the man, I took theliberty, when I wrote back to Mr. Playmore, of slightly increasing theindicated amount of the figures which were to appear on the check. Iought to have better known the correspondent whom I had to deal with.Mr. Playmore's reply (informing me that our emissary had started on hisvoyage) returned a receipt in due form, and the whole of the surplusmoney, to the last farthing!
A few hurried lines accompanied the "abstract," and stated the result ofthe lawyer's visit to Miserrimus Dexter.
There was no change for the better--there was no change at all. Mr.Dexter, the brother, had arrived at the house accompanied by a medicalman accustomed to the charge of the insane. The new doctor declined togive any definite opinion on the case until he had studied it carefullywith plenty of time at his disposal. It had been accordingly arrangedthat he should remove Miserrimus Dexter to the asylum of which he wasthe proprietor as soon as the preparations for receiving the patientcould be completed. The one difficulty that still remained to be metrelated to the disposal of the faithful creature who had never left hermaster, night or day, since the catastrophe had happened. Ariel had nofriends and no money. The proprietor of the asylum could not be expectedto receive her without the customary payment; and Mr. Dexter's brother"regretted to say that he was not rich enough to find the money." Aforcible separation from the one human being whom she loved, and aremoval in the character of a pauper to a public asylum--such wasthe prospect which awaited the unfortunate creature unless some oneinterfered in her favor before the end of the week.
Under these sad circumstances, good Mr. Playmore--passing over theclaims of economy in favor of the claims of humanity--suggested thatwe should privately start a subscription, and offered to head the listliberally himself.
I must have written all these pages to very little purpose if it isnecessary for me to add that I instantly sent a letter to Mr. Dexter,the brother, undertaking to be answerable for whatever money was tobe required while the subscriptions were being collected, and onlystipulating that when Miserrimus Dexter was removed to the asylum, Arielshould accompany him. This was readily conceded. But serious objectionswere raised when I further requested that she might be permitted toattend on her master in the asylum as she had attended on him in thehouse. The rules of the establishment forbade it, and the universalpractice in such cases forbade it, and so on, and so on. However, bydint of perseverance and persuasion, I so far carried my point as togain a reasonable concession. During certain hours in the day, and undercertain wise restrictions, Ariel was to be allowed the privilege ofwaiting on the Master in his room, as well as of accompanying him whenhe was brought out in his chair to take the air in the garden. For thehonor of humanity, let me add that the liability which I had undertakenmade no very serious demands on my resources. Placed in Benjamin'scharge, our subscription-list prospered. Friends, and even strangerssometimes, opened their hearts and their purses when they heard Ariel'smelancholy story.
The day which followed the day of Mr. Playmore's visit brought me newsfrom Spain, in a letter from my mother-in-law. To describe what I feltwhen I broke the seal and read the first lines is simply impossible. LetMrs. Macallan be heard on this occasion in my place.
Thus she wrote:
"Prepare yourself, my dearest Valeria, for a delightful surprise.Eustace has justified my confidence in him. When he returns to England,he returns--if you will let him--to his wife.
"This resolution, let me hasten to assure you, has not been broughtabout by any persuasions of mine. It is the natural outgrowth of yourhusband's gratitude and your husband's love. The first words he saidto me, when he was able to speak, were these: 'If I live to return toEngland, and if I go to Valeria, do you think she will forgive me?' Wecan only leave it to you, my dear, to give the answer. If you love us,answer us by return of post.
"Having now told you what he said when I first informed him that you hadbeen his nurse--and remember, if it seem very little, that he is stilltoo weak to speak except with difficulty--I shall purposely keep myletter back for a few days. My object is to give him time to think,and to frankly tell you of it if the interval produce any change in hisresolution.
"Three days have passed, and there is no change. He has but one feelingnow--he longs for the day which is to unite him again to his wife.
"But there is something else connected with Eustace that you ought toknow, and that I ought to tell you.
"Greatly as time and suffering have altered him in many respects, thereis no change, Valeria, in the aversion--the horror I may even say--withwhich he views your idea of inquiring anew into the circumstances whichattended the lamentable death of his first wife. It makes no differenceto him that you are only animated by a desire to serve his interests.'Has she given up that idea? Are you positively sure she has given upthat idea?' Over and over again he has put these questions to me. I haveanswered--what else could I do in the miserably feeble state in which hestill lies?--I have answered in such a manner as to soothe and satisfyhim. I have said, 'Relieve your mind of all anxiety on that subject:Valeria has no choice but to give up the idea; the obstacles in her wayhave proved to be insurmountable--the obstacles have conquered her.'This, if you remember, was what I really believed would happen when youand I spoke of that painful topic; and I have heard nothing from yousince which has tended to shake my opinion in the smallest degree. IfI am right (as I pray God I may be) in the view that I take, you h aveonly to confirm me in your reply, and all will be well. In the otherevent--that is to say, if you are still determined to persevere inyour hopeless project--then make up your mind to face the result. SetEustace's prejudices at defiance in this particular, and you lose yourhold on his gratitude, his penitence, and his love--you will, in mybelief, never see him again.
"I express myself strongly, in your own interests, my dear, and for yourown sake. When you reply, write a few lines to Eustace, inclosed in yourletter to me.
"As for the date of our departure, it is still impossible for me to giveyou any definite information. Eustace recovers very slowly; the doctorhas not yet allowed him to leave his bed; and when we do travel we mustjourney by easy stages. It will be at least six weeks, at the earliest,before we can hope to be back again in dear Old England.
"Affectionately yours,
"CATHERINE MACALLAN."
I laid down the letter, and did my best (vainly enough for some time)to compose my spirits. To understand the position in which I now foundmyself, it is only necessary to remember one circumstance: the messengerto whom we had committed our inquiries was at that moment crossing theAtlantic on his way to New York.
What was to be done?
I hesitated. Shocking as it may seem to some people, I hesitated. Therewas really no need to hurry my decision. I had the whole day before me.
I went out and took a wretched, lonely walk, and turned the matter overin my mind. I came home again, and turned the matter over once more bythe fireside. To offend and repel my darling when he was returning tome, penitently returning of his own free will, was what no woman in myposition, and feeling as I did, could under any earthly circumstanceshave brought herself to do. And yet, on the other hand, how in Heaven'sname could I give up my grand enterprise at the very time when even wiseand prudent Mr. Playmore saw such a prospect of succeeding in it thathe had actually volunteered to help me? Placed between those two cruelalternatives, which could I choose? Think of your own frailties, andhave some mercy on mine. I turned my back on both the alternatives.Those two agreeable fiends, Prevarication and Deceit, took me, as itwere, softly by the hand: "Don't co
mmit yourself either way, my dear,"they said, in their most persuasive manner. "Write just enough tocompose your mother-in-law and to satisfy your husband. You have gottime before you. Wait and see if Time doesn't stand your friend, and getyou out of the difficulty."
Infamous advice! And yet I took it--I, who had been well brought up, andwho ought to have known better. You who read this shameful confessionwould have known better, I am sure. _You_ are not included, in thePrayer-book category, among the "miserable sinners."
Well! well! let me have virtue enough to tell the truth. In writing tomy mother-in-law, I informed her that it had been found necessary toremove Miserrimus Dexter to an asylum--and I left her to draw her ownconclusions from that fact, unenlightened by so much as one word ofadditional information. In the same way, I told my husband a part of thetruth, and no more. I said I forgave him with all my heart--and I did!I said he had only to come to me, and I would receive him with openarms--and so I would! As for the rest, let me say with Hamlet--"The restis silence."
Having dispatched my unworthy letters, I found myself growing restless,and feeling the want of a change. It would be necessary to wait at leasteight or nine days before we could hope to hear by telegraph from NewYork. I bade farewell for a time to my dear and admirable Benjamin, andbetook myself to my old home in the North, at the vicarage of my uncleStarkweather. My journey to Spain to nurse Eustace had made my peacewith my worthy relatives; we had exchanged friendly letters; and I hadpromised to be their guest as soon as it was possible for me to leaveLondon.
I passed a quiet and (all things considered) a happy time among the oldscenes. I visited once more the bank by the river-side, where Eustaceand I had first met. I walked again on the lawn and loitered through theshrubbery--those favorite haunts in which we had so often talked overour troubles, and so often forgotten them in a kiss. How sadly andstrangely had our lives been parted since that time! How uncertain stillwas the fortune which the future had in store for us!
The associations amid which I was now living had their softening effecton my heart, their elevating influence over my mind. I reproachedmyself, bitterly reproached myself, for not having written more fullyand frankly to Eustace. Why had I hesitated to sacrifice to him my hopesand my interests in the coming investigation? _He_ had not hesitated,poor fellow--_his_ first thought was the thought of his wife!
I had passed a fortnight with my uncle and aunt before I heardagain from Mr. Playmore. When a letter from him arrived at last, itdisappointed me indescribably. A telegram from our messenger informed usthat the lodge-keeper's daughter and her husband had left New York, andthat he was still in search of a trace of them.
There was nothing to be done but to wait as patiently as we could,on the chance of hearing better news. I remained in the North, by Mr.Playmore's advice, so as to be within an easy journey to Edinburgh--incase it might be necessary for me to consult him personally. Three moreweeks of weary expectation passed before a second letter reached me.This time it was impossible to say whether the news were good or bad.It might have been either--it was simply bewildering. Even Mr.Playmore himself was taken by surprise. These were the last wonderfulwords--limited of course by considerations of economy--which reached us(by telegram) from our agent in America:
"Open the dust-heap at Gleninch."
The Law and the Lady Page 42
