CHAPTER VI.
Here ended this conference. She had by no means suspected the manner inwhich it would be conducted. All punctilios were trampled under foot bythe impetuosity of Ormond. Things were, at once, and without delay,placed upon a certain footing. The point, which ordinary persons wouldhave employed months in attaining, was reached in a moment. While theseincidents were fresh in her memory, they were accompanied with a sort oftrepidation, the offspring at once of pleasure and surprise.
Ormond had not deceived her expectations; but hearsay and personalexamination, however uniform their testimony may be, produce a verydifferent impression. In her present reflections, Helena and her loverapproached to the front of the stage, and were viewed with equalperspicuity. One consequence of this was, that their characters weremore powerfully contrasted with each other, and the eligibility ofmarriage appeared not quite so incontestable as before.
Was not equality implied in this compact? Marriage is an instrument ofpleasure or pain in proportion as this equality is more or less. Whatbut the fascination of his senses is it that ties Ormond to Helena. Isthis a basis en which marriage may properly be built?
If things had not gone thus far, the impropriety of marriage could notbe doubted; but, at present, there is a choice of evils, and that maynow be desirable which at a former period, and in differentcircumstances, would have been clearly otherwise.
The evils of the present connection are known; those of marriage arefuture and contingent. Helena cannot be the object of a genuine andlasting passion; another may; this is not merely possible; nothing ismore likely to happen. This event, therefore, ought to be included inour calculation. There would be a material deficiency without it. Whatwas the amount of the misery that would in this case ensue?
Constantia was qualified, beyond most others, to form an adequateconception of this misery. One of the ingredients in her character was amild and steadfast enthusiasm. Her sensibilities to social pleasure, andher conceptions of the benefits to flow from the conformity andconcurrence of intentions and wishes, heightening and refining thesensual passion, were exquisite.
There, indeed, were evils, the foresight of which tended to preventthem; but was there wisdom in creating obstacles in the way of asuitable alliance. Before we act, we must consider not only the miseryproduced, but the happiness precluded by our measures.
In no case, perhaps, is the decision of a human being impartial, ortotally uninfluenced by sinister and selfish motives. If Constantiasurpassed others, it was not because her motives were pure, but becausethey possessed more of purity than those of others. Sinisterconsiderations flow in upon us through imperceptible channels, andmodify our thoughts in numberless ways, without our being trulyconscious of their presence. Constantia was young, and her heart wasopen at a thousand pores, to the love of excellence. The image of Ormondoccupied the chief place in her fancy, and was endowed with attractiveand venerable qualities. A bias was hence created that swayed herthoughts, though she knew not that they were swayed. To this mightjustly be imputed some part of that reluctance which she now felt togive Ormond to Helena. But this was not sufficient to turn the scale.That which had previously mounted was indeed heavier than before; butthis addition did not enable it to outweigh its opposite. Marriage wasstill the best upon the whole; but her heart was tortured to think that,best as it was, it abounded with so many evils.
On the evening of the next day, Ormond entered, with carelessabruptness, Constantia's sitting-apartment. He was introduced to herfather. A general and unrestrained conversation immediately took place.Ormond addressed Mr. Dudley with the familiarity of an old acquaintance.In three minutes, all embarrassment was discarded. The lady and hervisitant were accurate observers of each other. In the remarks of thelatter, (and his vein was an abundant one) there was a freedom andoriginality altogether new to his hearers. In his easiest andsprightliest sallies were tokens of a mind habituated to profound andextensive views. His associations were forced on a comprehensive scale.
He pretended to nothing, and studied the concealments of ambiguity morein reality than in appearance. Constantia, however, discovered asufficient resemblance between their theories of virtue and duty. Thedifference between them lay in the inferences arbitrarily deduced, andin which two persons may vary without end, and yet never be repugnant.Constantia delighted her companions by the facility with which sheentered into his meaning, the sagacity she displayed in drawing out hishints, circumscribing his conjectures, and thwarting or qualifying hismaxims. The scene was generally replete with ardour and contention, andyet the impression left on the mind of Ormond was full of harmony. Herdiscourse tended to rouse him from his lethargy, to furnish him withpowerful excitements; and the time spent in her company seemed like adoubling of existence.
The comparison could not but suggest itself between this scene and thatexhibited by Helena. With the latter, voluptuous blandishments, musicalprattle, and silent but expressive homage, composed a banquet deliciousfur awhile, but whose sweetness now began to pall upon his taste. Itsupplied him with no new ideas, and hindered him, by the lullingsensations it inspired, from profiting by his former acquisitions.Helena was beautiful. Apply the scale, and not a member was foundinelegantly disposed, or negligently moulded. Not a curve that wasblemished by an angle or ruffled by asperities. The irradiations of hereyes were able to dissolve the knottiest fibres, and their azure wasserene beyond any that nature had elsewhere exhibited. Over the rest ofher form the glistening and rosy hues were diffused with prodigalluxuriance, and mingled in endless and wanton variety. Yet this imagehad fewer attractions even to the senses than that of Constantia. Sogreat is the difference between forms animated by different degrees ofintelligence.
The interviews of Ormond and Constantia grew more frequent. The progresswhich they made in acknowledgement of each other was rapid. Twopositions, that were favourite ones with him, were quickly subverted. Hewas suddenly changed, from being one of the calumniators of the femalesex, to one of its warmest eulogists. This was a point on whichConstantia had ever been a vigorous disputant; but her arguments, intheir direct tendency, would never have made a convert of this man.Their force, intrinsically considered, was nothing. He drew hisconclusions from incidental circumstances. Her reasonings might befallacious or valid, but they were composed, arranged, and delivered,were drawn from such sources, and accompanied with such illustrations,as plainly testified a manlike energy in the reasoner. In this indirectand circuitous way her point was unanswerably established.
"Your reasoning is bad," he would say: "every one of your conclusions isfalse. Not a single allegation but may be easily confuted; and yet Iallow that your position is incontrovertibly proved by them. Howbewildered is that man who never thinks for himself! who rejects aprinciple merely because the arguments brought in support of it areinsufficient! I must not reject the truth because another hasunjustifiably adopted it. I want to reach a certain hill-top. Anotherhas reached it before me, but the ladder he used is too weak to bear me.What then? Am I to stay below on that account? No; I have only toconstruct one suitable to the purpose, and of strength sufficient."
A second maxim had never been confuted till now. It inculcated theinsignificance and hollowness of love. No pleasure he thought was to bedespised for its own sake. Every thing was good in its place, butamorous gratifications were to be degraded to the bottom of thecatalogue. The enjoyments of music and landscape were of a much higherorder. Epicurism itself was entitled to more respect. Love, in itself,was in his opinion of little worth, and only of importance as the sourceof the most terrible of intellectual maladies. Sexual sensationsassociating themselves, in a certain way, with our ideas, beget adisease, which has, indeed, found no place in the catalogue, but is acase of more entire subversion and confusion of mind than any other. Thevictim is callous to the sentiments of honour and shame, insensible tothe most palpable distinctions of right and wrong, a systematic opponentof testimony and obstinate perverter of truth.
Ormond was partly right.
Madness like death can be averted by noforesight or previous contrivance; This probably is one of itscharacteristics. He that witnesses its influence on another with mosthorror, and most fervently deprecates its ravages, is not therefore moresafe. This circumstance was realized in the history of Ormond.
This infatuation, if it may so be called, was gradual in its progress.The sensations which Helena was now able to excite were of a new kind.Her power was not merely weakened, but her endeavours counteracted theirown end. Her fondness was rejected with disdain, or borne withreluctance. The lady was not slow in perceiving this change. The strokeof death would have been more acceptable. His own reflections were tootormenting to make him willing to discuss them in words. He was notaware of the effects produced by this change in his demeanour, tillinformed of it by herself.
One evening he displayed symptoms of uncommon dissatisfaction. Hertenderness was unable to dispel it. He complained of want of sleep. Thisafforded a hint which she drew forth in one of her enchanting ditties.Habit had almost conferred upon her the power of spontaneous poesy, and,while she pressed his forehead to her bosom, she warbled forth a strainairy and exuberant in numbers, tender and ecstatic in its imagery:--
Sleep, extend thy downy pinion Hasten from thy cell with speed; Spread around thy soft dominion; Much those brows thy balmy presence need.
Wave thy wand of slumberous power, Moistened in Lethean dews, To charm the busy spirits of the hour, And brighten memory's malignant hues.
Thy mantle, dark and starless, cast Over my selected youth; Bury in thy womb the mournful past, And soften with thy dreams th' asperities of truth.
The changeful hues of his impassioned sleep, My office it shall be to watch the while; With thee, my love, when fancy prompts, to weep, And when thou smil'st, to smile.
But sleep! I charge thee, visit not these eyes, Nor raise thy dark pavilion here, 'Till morrow from the cave of ocean arise, And whisper tuneful joy in nature's ear.
But mutely let me lie, and sateless gaze At all the soul that in his visage sits, While spirits of harmonious air--
Here her voice sunk, and the line terminated in a sigh. Her musefulardours were chilled by the looks of Ormond. Absorbed in his ownthoughts, he appeared scarcely to attend to this strain. His sternnesswas proof against her accustomed fascinations. At length shepathetically complained of his coldness, and insinuated her suspicionsthat his affection was transferred to another object. He started fromher embrace, and after two or three turns across the room, he stoodbefore her. His large eyes were steadfastly fixed upon her face.
"Aye," said he, "thou hast guessed right. The love, poor as it was, thatI had for thee, is gone: henceforth thou art desolate indeed. Would toGod thou wert wise. Thy woes are but beginning; I fear they willterminate fatally; if so, the catastrophe cannot come too quickly.
"I disdain to appeal to thy justice, Helena, to remind thee ofconditions solemnly and explicitly assumed. Shall thy blood be upon thyown head? No. I will bear it myself. Though the load would crush amountain, I will bear it.
"I cannot help it; I make not myself; I am moulded by circumstances;whether I shall love thee or not is no longer in my own choice. Marriageif indeed still in my power. I may give thee any name, and share withthee my fortune. Will these content thee? Thou canst not partake of mylove. Thou canst have no part in my tenderness. These, are reserved foranother more worthy than thou.
"But no. Thy state is to the last degree forlorn, even marriage isdenied thee. Thou wast contented to take me without it,--to dispensewith the name of wife; but the being who has displaced thy image in thyheart is of a different class. She will be to me a wife, or nothing; andI must be her husband, or perish.
"Do not deceive thyself, Helena. I know what it is in which thou hastplaced thy felicity. Life is worth retaining by thee but on onecondition. I know the incurableness of thy infirmity; but be notdeceived. Thy happiness is ravished from thee. The condition on whichthou consentedst to live is annulled. I love thee no longer.
"No truth was ever more delicious; none was ever more detestable. Ifight against conviction, and I cling to it. That I love thee no longeris at once a subject of joy, and of mourning. I struggle to believethee superior to this shock; that thou wilt be happy, though deserted byme. Whatever be thy destiny, my reason will not allow me to be miserableon that account. Yet I would give the world--I would forfeit every claimbut that which I hope upon the heart of Constantia--to be sure that thytranquillity will survive this stroke.
"But let come what will, look no longer to me for offices of love.Henceforth all intercourse of tenderness ceases,--perhaps all personalintercourse whatever. But though this good be refused, thou art sure ofindependence. I will guard thy ease and thy honour with a father'sscrupulousness. Would to Heaven a sister could be created by adoption! Iam willing, for thy sake, to be an impostor. I will own thee to theworld for my sister, and carry thee whither the cheat shall never bedetected. I would devote my whole life to prevarication and falsehoodfor thy sake, if that would suffice to make thee happy."
To this speech Helena had nothing to answer: her sobs and tears chokedall utterance. She hid her face with her handkerchief, and sat powerlessand overwhelmed with despair. Ormond traversed the room uneasily,sometimes moving to and fro with quick steps, sometimes standing andeyeing her with looks of compassion. At length he spoke:--
"It is time to leave you. This is the first night that you will spend indreary solitude. I know it will be sleepless and full of agony; but thesentence cannot be recalled. Henceforth regard me as a brother. I willprove myself one. All other claims are swallowed up in a superioraffection." In saying this, he left the house, and, almost withoutintending it, found himself in a few minutes at Mr. Dudley's door.
Ormond; Or, The Secret Witness. Volume 2 (of 3) Page 6
