Macaria
Page 13
CHAPTER XIII
WARNINGS
With the characteristic fitfulness of consumption, Mr. Clifton rallied,and, for a time, seemed almost restored; but at the approach of winter thecough increased, and dangerous symptoms returned. Several months after therejection of his suit, to which no allusion had ever been made, Electra satbefore her easel, absorbed in work, while the master slowly walked up anddown the studio, wrapped in a warm plaid shawl. Occasionally he paused andlooked over her shoulder, then resumed his pace, offering no comment. Itwas not an unusual occurrence for them to pass entire mornings togetherwithout exchanging a word, and to-day the silence had lasted more than anhour. A prolonged fit of coughing finally arrested her attention, and,glancing up, she met his sad gaze.
"This is unpropitious weather for you, Mr. Clifton."
"Yes, this winter offers a dreary prospect."
Resting her chin in her hands she raised her eyes, and said--
"Why do you not follow the doctor's advice? A winter South might restoreyou."
He drew near, and, leaning his folded arms on the top of the easel, lookeddown into her face.
"There is only one condition upon which I could consent to go; that is inyour hands. Will you accompany me?"
She understood it all in an instant, saw the new form in which the trialpresented itself, and her soul sickened.
"Mr. Clifton, if I were your sister, or your child, I would gladly go; butas your pupil, I cannot."
"As Electra Grey, certainly not; but as Electra Clifton you could go."
"Electra Grey will be carved on my tombstone."
"Then you decide my fate. I remain, and wait the slow approach of death."
"No, before just Heaven! I take no such responsibility, nor shall youthrust it on me. You are a man, and must decide your destiny for yourself;I am a poor girl, having no claim upon, no power over you. It is your dutyto preserve the life which God gave you, in the way prescribed by yourphysician, and I have no voice in the matter. It is your duty to go South,and it will be both weak and wicked to remain here under existingcircumstances."
"My life is centred in you; it is worthless, nay, a burden, separated fromyou."
"Your life should be centred in something nobler, better; in your duty, inyour profession. It is suicidal to fold your hands listlessly, and look tome as you do."
"All these things have I tried, and I am weary of the hollowness, weary oflife, and the world. So long as I have your face here, I care not to crossmy own threshold till friendly hands bear me out to my quiet resting-placeunder the willows of Greenwood. Electra, my darling, think me weak if youwill, but bear with me a little longer, and then this, my shadow, shallflit from your young heart, leaving not even a memory to haunt you. Bepatient! I will soon pass away to another, a more peaceful, blessedsphere."
A melancholy smile lighted his fair waxen features, as waning, sicklysunshine in an autumn evening flickers over sculptured marble in a silentchurchyard.
How she compassioned his great weakness, as he wiped away the moisturewhich, even on that cold day, glistened on his forehead.
"Oh! I beseech you to go to Cuba. Go, and get strong once more."
"Nothing will ever help me now. Sunny skies and soft breezes bring nohealing for me. I want to die here, in my home, where your hands will beabout me; not among strangers in Cuba or Italy."
He turned to the fire, and springing up, she left the room. The solemnsilence of the house oppressed her; she put on her thickest wrappings, andtook the street leading to the nearest park. A steel-grey sky, withslowly-trailing clouds, looked down on her, and the keen, chilly windwafted a fine snow-powder in her face as she pressed against it. The treeswere bare, and the sere grass grew hoary as the first snow-flakes of theseason came down softly and shroud-like. The walks were deserted, savewhere a hurrying form crossed from street to street, homeward bound; andElectra passed slowly along, absorbed in thoughts colder than the frostingthat gathered on shawl and bonnet. The face and figure of the painterglided spectrally before her at every step, and a mighty temptationfollowed at its heels. Why not strangle her heart? Why not marry him andbear his name, if, thereby, she could make his few remaining months ofexistence happy, and, by accompanying him South, prolong his life even fora few weeks? She shuddered at the suggestion, it would be such a miserablelot.
Faster fell the snow-flakes, cresting the waves of her hair like foam, andsetting her teeth firmly, as if thereby locking the door against allcompassionating compunctions. Electra left the park and turned into across-street, on which was situated an establishment where bouquets werekept for sale. The assortment was meagre at that late hour, but sheselected a tiny bunch of delicate, fragrant, hot-house blossoms, and,shielding them with her shawl, hastened home. The studio was brilliant withgas-glare and warm with the breath of anthracite, but an aspect ofdreariness, silence, and sorrow predominated. On the edge of the lowscroll-sculptured mantel, supported at each corner by caryatides, perched alarge tame grey owl, with clipped wings folded, and wide, solemn, oraculareyes fastened on the countenance of its beloved master.
With swift, noiseless steps Electra came to the red grate, and, after amoment, drew an ottoman close to the easy chair. Perhaps its occupantslept; perchance he wandered, with closed eyes, far down among the sombre,dank crypts of memory. She laid her cool fingers on his hand, and held thebouquet before him.
"My dear sir, here are your flowers; they are not as pretty as usual, butsweet enough to atone for lack of beauty."
He fingered them caressingly, laid them against his hollow cheeks, and hidhis lips among their fragrant petals, but the starry eyes were fixed on thefeatures of the pupil.
"It is bitter weather out; did you brave it for these? Thank you, butdon't expose yourself so in future. Two invalids in a house are quiteenough. You are snow-crowned, little one; do you know it? The frostinggleams right, royally on that black hair of yours. Nay, child, don't brushit off; like all lovely things it fades rapidly, melts away like the dreamsthat flutter around a boy in the witchery of a long, still, sunny summerday."
His thin hand nestled in her shining hair, and she submitted to the touchin silence.
He regarded her with an expression of sorrowful tenderness, and his handtrembled as he placed it upon her head. "I know not what is to become ofyou. Oh, Electra! if you would only be warned in time."
The warmth of the room had vermilioned her cheeks, and the long blacklashes failed to veil in any degree the flash of the eyes she raised to hisface. Removing the hand from her head, she took it in both hers, and acold, dauntless smile wreathed her lips.
"Be easy on my account. I am not afraid of my future. Why should I be? Godbuilt an arsenal in every soul before he launched it on the stormy sea ofTime, and the key to mine is Will! What woman has done, woman may do; aglorious sisterhood of artists beckon me on; what Elizabeth Cheron, SibyllaMerian, Angelica Kauffman, Elizabeth Le Brun, Felicie Fauveau, and RosaBonheur have achieved, I also will accomplish, or die in the effort. Thesetravelled no royal road to immortality, but rugged, thorny paths; and whoshall stay my feet? Afar off gleams my resting-place, but ambition scourgesme unflaggingly on. Do not worry about my future; I will take care of it,and of myself."
"And when, after years of toil, you win fame, even fame enough to satisfyyour large expectations, what then? Whither will you look for happiness?"
"I will grapple fame to my empty heart, as women do other idols."
"It will freeze you, my dear child."
"At all events, I will risk it. Thank God! whatever other faults I confessto, there is no taint of cowardice in my soul."
She rose, and stood a moment on the rug, looking into the red network ofcoals, then turned to leave him, saying--
"I must go to your mother now, and presently I will bring your tea."
"You need not trouble. I can go to the dining-room to-night."
"It is no trouble; it gives me great pleasure to do something for yourcomfort; and I know you always enjoy
your supper more when you have ithere."
As she closed the door, he pressed his face against the morocco lining andgroaned unconsciously, and large glittering tears, creeping from beneaththe trembling lashes, hid themselves in the curling brown beard.
To see that Mrs. Clifton's supper suited her, and then to read aloud to herfor half an hour from the worn family Bible, was part of the daily routinewhich Electra permitted nothing to interrupt. On this occasion she foundthe old lady seated, as usual, before the fire, her crutches leaningagainst the chair, and her favourite cat curled on the carpet at her feet.Most tenderly did the aged cripple love her son's protegee, and thewrinkled, sallow face lighted up with a smile of pleasure at her entrance.
"I thought it was about time for you to come to me. Sit down, dear, andtouch the bell for Kate. How is Harry?"
"No stronger, I am afraid. You know this is very bad weather for him."
"Yes; when he came up to-day I thought he looked more feeble than I hadever seen him; and as I sit here and listen to his hollow cough, everysound seems a stab at my heart." She rocked herself to and fro for amoment, and added mournfully--
"Ah, child! it is so hard to see my youngest boy going down to the gravebefore me. The last of five, I hoped he would survive me; but consumptionis a terrible thing; it took my husband first, then, in quick succession,my other children, and now Harry, my darling, my youngest, is the lastprey."
Anxious to divert her mind, Electra adroitly changed the conversation, and,when she rose to say good night, some time after, had the satisfaction ofknowing that the old lady had fallen asleep. In was in vain that shearranged several tempting dishes on the table beside the painter, andcoaxed him to partake of them; he received but a cup of tea from her hand,and motioned the remainder away. As the servant removed the tray, he lookedup at his pupil, and said--
"Please wheel the lounge nearer to the grate; I am too tired to sit upto-night."
She complied at once, shook up the pillow, and, as he laid his head uponit, she spread his heavy plaid shawl over him.
"Now, sir, what shall I read this evening?"
"'_Arcana Coelestia_,' if you please."
She took up the volume, and began at the place he designated; and as sheread on and on, her rich flexible voice rose and fell upon the air likewaves of melody. One of her hands chanced to hang over the arm of thechair, and as she sat near the lounge, thin hot fingers twined about it,drew it caressingly to the pillow, and held it tightly. Her first impulsewas to withdraw it, and an expression of annoyance crossed her features;but, on second thought, she suffered her fingers to rest passively in his.Now and then, as she turned a leaf, she met his luminous eyes fastened uponher; but after a time the quick breathing attracted her attention, and,looking down, she saw that he, too, was sleeping. She closed the book andremained quiet, fearful of disturbing him; and as she studied the weary,fevered face, noting the march of disease, the sorrowful drooping of themouth, so indicative of grievous disappointment, a new and holy tendernessawoke in her heart. It was a feeling analogous to that of a mother for asuffering child, who can be soothed only by her presence and caresses--anaffection not unfrequently kindled in haughty natures by the entiredependence of a weaker one. Blended with this was a remorsefulconsciousness of the coldness with which she had persistently rejected,repulsed every manifestation of his devoted love; and, winding her fingersthrough his long hair, she vowed an atonement for the past in increasedgentleness for the remainder of his waning life. As she bent over him,wearing her compassion in her face, he opened his eyes and looked at her.
"How long have I slept?"
"Nearly an hour. How do you feel since your nap?"
He made no reply, and she put her hand on his forehead. The countenancelighted, and he said slowly--
"Ah! yes, press your cool soft little palm on my brow. It seems to stillthe throbbing of my temples."
"It is late, Mr. Clifton, and I must leave you. William looked in, a fewminutes since, to say that the fire burned in your room, but I would notwake you. I will send him to you. Good night."
She leaned down voluntarily and kissed him, and, with a quick movement, hefolded her to his heart an instant, then released her, murmuring huskily--
"God bless you, Electra, and reward you for your patient endurance. Goodnight, my precious child."
She went to her room, all unconscious of the burst of emotion which shookthe feeble frame of the painter, long after she had laid her head on herpillow in the sound slumber of healthful youth.