The Vale of Cedars; Or, The Martyr

by Grace Aguilar

  CHAPTER XIII.

  "Why, when my life on that one hope, cast, Why didst thou chain my future to her past? Why not a breath to say she loved before?"

  BULWER.

  "Oh leave me not! or know Before thou goest, the heart that wronged thee so But wrongs no more."

  BULWER.

  In the first painful moments of awakening sense, Marie was onlyconscious of an undefined yet heavy weight on heart and brain; but asstrength returned she started up with a faint cry, and looked wildlyround her. The absence of Morales, the conviction that he had left herto the care of others, that for the first time he had deserted hercouch of pain, lighted up as by an electric flash the marvellous linksof memory, and the whole of that morning's anguish, every word spoken,every feeling endured, rushed back upon her with such overwhelmingforce as for the moment to deprive her of the little strength shehad regained. Why could she not die? was the despairing thought thatfollowed. What had she to live for, when it was her ill fate to wreckthe happiness of all who loved her? and yet in that moment of agonyshe never seemed to have loved her husband more. It was of him shethought far more than of Arthur, whose angry words and fatal threatrung again and again in her ears.

  "My Lord had only just left when you recovered consciousness, Senora,"gently remarked her principal attendant, whose penetration haddiscovered the meaning of Marie's imploring look and passive silence,so far at least that it was Don Ferdinand she sought, and that hisabsence pained her. "He tarried till life seemed returning, and thenreluctantly departed for the castle, where he had been summoned, hesaid, above an hour before."

  "To the castle!" repeated Marie internally. "Ay, he will do his duty,though his heart be breaking. He will take his place and act his part,and men will report him calm, wise, collected, active as his wont, andlittle dream his wife, his treasured wife, has bowed his lofty spiritto the dust, and laid low his light of home. Tell me when he returns,"she said aloud, "and bid all leave me but yourself."

  Two hours passed, and Marie lay outwardly still and calm, neitherspeaking nor employed. But at the end of that time she started uphastily, resumed the robe which had been cast aside, and remainedstanding, as intently listening to some distant sound. Several minuteselapsed, and though she had sunk almost unconsciously on the seatManuella proffered, it was not till full half an hour that she spoke.

  "The Senor has returned," she said calmly; "bid Alberic hither."

  The page came, and she quietly inquired if any strangers had enteredwith his master.

  "No, Senora, he is alone."

  "Has he long returned?"

  "Almost half an hour, Senora. He went directly to his closet, desiringthat he might not be disturbed."

  Ten minutes more, and Marie was standing in her husband's presence,but unobserved. For the first time in his whole life had her lightstep approached him unheard. For two hours he had borne a degree ofmental suffering which would either have crushed or roused any otherman into wildest fury--borne it with such an unflinching spirit, thatin neither look nor manner, nor even tone, had he departed from hisusual self, or given the slightest occasion for remark. But theprivacy of his closet obtained, the mighty will gave way, and thestormy waves rolled over him, deadening every sense and thought andfeeling, save the one absorbing truth, that he had never been beloved.Father and child had deceived him; for now every little word, everytrifling occurrence before his marriage in the Vale of Cedarsrushed back on his mind, and Henriquez imploring entreaty under allcircumstances to love and cherish her was explained.

  "Ferdinand!" exclaimed a voice almost inarticulate from sobs; andstarting, he beheld his wife kneeling by his side. "Oh! my husband, donot turn from me, do not hate me. I have none but thee."

  He tried to withdraw his hand, but the words, the tone, unmanned him,and throwing his arm round her, he clasped her convulsively to hisheart, and she felt his slow scalding tears fall one by one, as wrungfrom the heart's innermost depths, upon her cheek.

  For several minutes there was silence. The strong man's emotion is asterrible to witness as terrible to feel. Marie was the first to regainvoice; and in low beseeching accents she implored him to listen toher--to hear ere he condemned.

  "Not thus," was his sole reply, as he tried to raise her from herkneeling posture to the cushion by his side.

  "Yes, thus my husband. I will not rise till thou say'st thou canstforgive; wilt take the loving and the weak back to thy heart, if notto love as thou hast loved, to strengthen and forgive. I have notwronged thee. Were I false in word or thought I would not kneel to askforgiveness, but crawl to thy feet and die! If thou couldst but knowthe many, many times I have longed to confess all; the agony toreceive thy fond caress, thy trusting confidence, and know myselfdeceiving; the terror lest thou shouldst discover aught from otherthan myself; oh! were it not for thy deep woe, I could bless thismoment, bidding me speak Truth once more!"

  "And say thou hast never loved me? Wert true from duty, not from love?Marie, can I bear this?"

  "Yes--for I do love thee. Oh! my husband, I turn to thee alone, undermy God, for rest and peace. If I might not give thee the wild passionsof my youth, when my heart was sought, and won ere I was myselfconscious of the precipice I neared, I cling to thee now alone--Iwould be thine alone. Oh, take me to thy heart, and let me lie there.Ferdinand, Ferdinand! forgive me!--love--save me from myself!"

  "Ay, now and ever! Come to my heart, beloved one!" answered herhusband, rousing himself from all of personal suffering to comforther; and he drew her to him till her head rested on his bosom. "Nowtell me thy sorrowing tale, to me so wrapt in mystery. Fear notfrom me. It is enough thou clingest to me in such sweet guilelessconfidence still."

  She obeyed him; and the heavy weight of suffering years seemedlightening as she spoke. From her first meeting Arthur, to thatmorning's harrowing interview, every feeling, every incident, everythrob of reproach and dread were revealed with such touching andchildlike truth, that even in his suffering, Morales unconsciouslyclasped his wife closer and closer to him, as if her very confidenceand truth, rendered her yet dearer than before, and inexpressiblysoothed at the very moment that they pained. Their interview was long,but fraught with mutual comfort. Morales had believed, when he enteredhis closet that day, that a dense cloud was folded round him, sappingthe very elements of life; but though he still felt as if he hadreceived some heavy physical blow, the darkness had fled from hisspirit, and light dawned anew for both, beneath the heavenly rays ofopenness and Truth.

  "And Arthur?" Marie said, as that long commune came to a close; andshe looked up with the fearless gaze of integrity in her husband'sface. "Thou wilt forgive him, Ferdinand? he knew not what he said."

  "Trust me, beloved one. I pity and forgive him. He shall learn to loveme, despite himself."

  Great was the astonishment and terrible the disappointment of Don LuisGarcia at the visible failure of one portion of his nefarious schemes.Though seldom in Don Ferdinand's actual presence, he was perfectlyaware that instead of diminishing, Morales' confidence in and lovefor his wife had both increased, and that Marie was happier and morequietly at rest than she had been since her marriage. But thoughbaffled, Garcia was not foiled. The calm, haughty dignity which,whenever they did chance to meet, now characterized Don Ferdinand'smanner towards him; the brief, stern reply, if words were actuallyneeded; or complete silence, betraying as it did tire utter contemptand scorn with which his crafty design was regarded, heightened hisevery revengeful feeling, and hastened on his plans.

  Two or three weeks passed: a calm security and peaceful happiness hadtaken the place of storm and dread in Marie's heart. She felt thatit had been a secret consciousness of wrong towards her husband, thedread of discovery occasioning estrangement, the constant fear ofencountering Stanley, which had weighed on her heart far more thanformer feelings; and now that the ordeal was past, that all was known,and she could meet her husband's eye without one thought concealed;now that despite of all he could love and cheris
h, aye, trust herstill, she clung to him with love as pure and fond and true as everwife might feel; and her only thought of Stanley was prayer that peacemight also dawn for him. It was pain indeed to feel that the realreason of her wedding Ferdinand must for ever remain concealed. Couldthat have been spoken, one little sentence said, all would have beenexplained, and Stanley's bitter feelings soothed.

  It was the custom of Ferdinand and Isabella to gather aroundthem, about once a month, the wisest and the ablest of theirrealm--sometimes to hold council on public matters, at others merelyin friendly discussion on various subjects connected with, politics,the church, or war. In these meetings merit constituted rank, and mindnobility. They commenced late, and continued several hours through thenight. To one of these meetings Don Ferdinand Morales had received asummons as usual. As the day neared, he became conscious of a strange,indefinable sensation taking possession of heart and mind, asimpossible to be explained as to be dismissed. It was as if someimpassable and invisible, but closely-hovering evil were connectedwith the day, blinding him--as by a heavy pall--to all beyond. Hesucceeded in subduing the ascendency of the sensation, in somemeasure, till the day itself; when, as the hours waned, it became moreand more overpowering. As he entered his wife's apartment, to bid herfarewell ere he departed for the castle, it rose almost to suffocationin his throat, and he put his arm round her as she stood by thewidely-opened casement, and remained by her side several minuteswithout speaking.

  "Thou art not going to the castle yet, dearest?" she inquired. "Is itnot much earlier than usual?"

  "Yes, love; but I shall not ride to-night. I feel so strangelyoppressed, that I think a quiet walk in the night air will recover mefar more effectually than riding."

  Marie looked up anxiously in his face. He was very pale, and his hairwas damp with the moisture on his forehead. "Thou art unwell," sheexclaimed; "do not go to-night, dearest Ferdinand,--stay with me. Thypresence is not so imperatively needed."

  He shook his head with a faint smile. "I must go, love, for I have noexcuse to stay away. I wish it were any other night, indeed, for Iwould so gladly remain with thee; but the very wish is folly. I nevershrunk from the call of duty before, and cannot imagine what has comeover me to-night; but I would sacrifice much for permission to staywithin. Do not look so alarmed, love, the fresh air will remove thisvague oppression, and give me back myself."

  "Fresh air there is none," replied his young wife, "the stillness isactually awful--not a leaf moves, nor a breeze stirs. It seems too,more than twilight darkness; as if a heavy storm were brooding."

  "It may be; oppression in the air is often the sole cause ofoppression in the mind. I should be almost glad if it came, to explainthis sensation."

  "But if thou must go, thou wilt not loiter, Ferdinand."

  "Why--fearest thou the storm will harm me, love? Nay, I havefrightened thee into foreboding. Banish it, or I shall be still moreloth to say farewell!"

  He kissed her, as if to depart, but still he lingered though neitherspoke; and then, as with an irresistible and passionate impulse, heclasped her convulsively to his heart, and murmuring hoarsely, "Godfor ever and ever bless thee, my own beloved!" released her, and wasgone.

  On quitting his mansion and entering the street, the dense weightof the atmosphere became more and more apparent. The heat was sooppressive that the streets were actually deserted--even the artisanshad closed their stores; darkness had fallen suddenly, shroudingthe beautiful twilight peculiar to Spain as with a pall. Moralesunconsciously glanced towards the west, where, scarcely half-an-hourbefore, the sun had sunk gloriously to rest; and there all was notblack. Resting on the edge of the hill, was a far-spreading crimsoncloud, not the rosy glow of sunset, but the color of blood. Soremarkable was its appearance, that Don Ferdinand paused ininvoluntary awe. The blackness closed gradually round it; butmuch decreased, and still decreasing in size, it floatedonwards--preserving its blood-red hue, in appalling contrast withthe murky sky. Slowly Morales turned in the direction of the castle,glancing up at times, and unable to suppress a thrill of supernaturalhorror, as he observed this remarkable appearance floating just beforehim wherever he turned. Denser and denser became the atmosphere, andblacker the sky, till he could not see a single yard before him;thunder growled in the distance, and a few vivid flashes of lightningmomentarily illumined the gloom, but still the cloud remained. Itscourse became swifter; but it decreased in size, floating onwards,till, to Morales' strained gaze, it appeared to remain stationary overone particularly lonely part of the road, known by the name of theCalle Soledad, which he was compelled to pass; becoming smaller andsmaller, till, as he reached the spot, it faded into utter darkness,and all around was black.

  That same evening, about an hour before sunset, Arthur Stanley,overpowered by the heat, and exhausted with some fatiguing militaryduties, hastily unbuckled his sword, flung it carelessly from him,and, drinking off a large goblet of wine, which, as usual, stood readyfor him on his table, threw himself on his couch, and sunk into aslumber so profound that he scarcely seemed to breathe. How he hadpassed the interval which had elapsed since his interview with Marieand her husband, he scarcely knew himself. His military duties wereperformed mechanically, a mission for the king to Toledo successfullyaccomplished; but he himself was conscious only of one engrossingthought, which no cooling and gentler temper had yet come to subdue.It was a relief to acquit Marie of intentional falsehood--a relief tohave some imaginary object on which to vent bitterness and anger; andheadstrong and violent without control or guide, when his passionswere concerned, he encouraged every angry feeling against Morales,caring neither to define nor subdue them, till the longing to meet himin deadly combat, and the how to do so, became the sole and dangerousoccupation of heart and mind.

  Stanley's heavy and unnatural sleep had lasted some hours, when he wassuddenly and painfully awakened by so loud and long a peal of thunderthat the very house seemed to rock and shake with the vibration. Hestarted up on his couch; but darkness was around him so dense thathe could not distinguish a single object. This sleep had beenunrefreshing, and so heavy an oppression rested on his chest, that hefelt as if confined in a close cage of iron. He waved his arms to feelif he were indeed at liberty. He moved in free air, but the darknessseemed to suffocate him; and springing up, he groped his way to thewindow, and flung it open. Feverish and restless, the very excitementof the night seemed to urge him forth, thus to disperse the oppressiveweight within. A flash of lightning playing on the polished sheath ofhis sword, he secured it to his side, and threw his mantle over hisshoulders. As he did so his hand came in contact with the upper partof the sheath, from which the hilt should have projected; but, to hisastonishment and alarm, no hilt was there--the sheath was empty.

  In vain he racked his memory to ascertain whether he had left hissword in its scabbard, or had laid the naked blade, as was his custom,by him while he slept. The more he tried to think the more confusedhis thoughts became. His forehead felt circled with burning iron,his lips were dry and parched, his step faltering as if under theinfluence of some potent spell. He called for a light, but his voicesounded in his own ears thick and unnatural, and no one answered. Hisaged hosts had retired to rest an hour before, and though they hadnoticed and drew their own conclusions from his agitated movements,his call was unregarded. In five minutes more they heard him rush fromthe house; and anxious as she was to justify all the ways and doingsof her handsome lodger, old Juanna was this night compelled to leanto her husband's ominously expressed belief, that no one wouldvoluntarily go forth on such an awful night, save for deeds of evil.

  His rapid pace and open path were illumined every alternate minutewith, the vivid lightning, and the very excitement of the stormpartially removed the incomprehensible sensations under which Stanleylabored. He turned in the direction of the castle, perhaps with theunconfessed hope of meeting some of his companions in arms returningfrom the royal meeting, and in their society to shake off the spellwhich chained him. As he neared the Calle Soledad
the ground suddenlybecame slippery, as with some thick fluid, of what nature the densedarkness prevented his discovering, his foot came in contact with someheavy substance lying right across his path. He stumbled and fell, andhis dress and hands became literrally dyed with the same hue as theground. He started up in terror; a long vivid flash lingering morethan a minute in the air, disclosed the object against which he hadfallen; and paralyzed with horror, pale, ghastly, as if suddenlyturned to stone, he remained. He uttered no word nor cry; but flashafter flash played around him, and still beheld him gazing instupefied and motionless horror on the appalling sight before him.