CHAPTER VIII.
IN the mean time what did Perdita?
During the first months of his Protectorate, Raymond and she had beeninseparable; each project was discussed with her, each plan approved byher. I never beheld any one so perfectly happy as my sweet sister. Herexpressive eyes were two stars whose beams were love; hope andlight-heartedness sat on her cloudless brow. She fed even to tears of joyon the praise and glory of her Lord; her whole existence was one sacrificeto him, and if in the humility of her heart she felt self-complacency, itarose from the reflection that she had won the distinguished hero of theage, and had for years preserved him, even after time had taken from loveits usual nourishment. Her own feeling was as entire as at its birth. Fiveyears had failed to destroy the dazzling unreality of passion. Most menruthlessly destroy the sacred veil, with which the female heart is wont toadorn the idol of its affections. Not so Raymond; he was an enchanter,whose reign was for ever undiminished; a king whose power never wassuspended: follow him through the details of common life, still the samecharm of grace and majesty adorned him; nor could he be despoiled of theinnate deification with which nature had invested him. Perdita grew inbeauty and excellence under his eye; I no longer recognised my reservedabstracted sister in the fascinating and open-hearted wife of Raymond. Thegenius that enlightened her countenance, was now united to an expression ofbenevolence, which gave divine perfection to her beauty.
Happiness is in its highest degree the sister of goodness. Suffering andamiability may exist together, and writers have loved to depict theirconjunction; there is a human and touching harmony in the picture. Butperfect happiness is an attribute of angels; and those who possess it,appear angelic. Fear has been said to be the parent of religion: even ofthat religion is it the generator, which leads its votaries to sacrificehuman victims at its altars; but the religion which springs from happinessis a lovelier growth; the religion which makes the heart breathe forthfervent thanksgiving, and causes us to pour out the overflowings of thesoul before the author of our being; that which is the parent of theimagination and the nurse of poetry; that which bestows benevolentintelligence on the visible mechanism of the world, and makes earth atemple with heaven for its cope. Such happiness, goodness, and religioninhabited the mind of Perdita.
During the five years we had spent together, a knot of happy human beingsat Windsor Castle, her blissful lot had been the frequent theme of mysister's conversation. From early habit, and natural affection, sheselected me in preference to Adrian or Idris, to be the partner in heroverflowings of delight; perhaps, though apparently much unlike, somesecret point of resemblance, the offspring of consanguinity, induced thispreference. Often at sunset, I have walked with her, in the sober,enshadowed forest paths, and listened with joyful sympathy. Security gavedignity to her passion; the certainty of a full return, left her with nowish unfulfilled. The birth of her daughter, embryo copy of her Raymond,filled up the measure of her content, and produced a sacred andindissoluble tie between them. Sometimes she felt proud that he hadpreferred her to the hopes of a crown. Sometimes she remembered that shehad suffered keen anguish, when he hesitated in his choice. But this memoryof past discontent only served to enhance her present joy. What had beenhardly won, was now, entirely possessed, doubly dear. She would look at himat a distance with the same rapture, (O, far more exuberant rapture!) thatone might feel, who after the perils of a tempest, should find himself inthe desired port; she would hasten towards him, to feel more certain in hisarms, the reality of her bliss. This warmth of affection, added to thedepth of her understanding, and the brilliancy of her imagination, made herbeyond words dear to Raymond.
If a feeling of dissatisfaction ever crossed her, it arose from the ideathat he was not perfectly happy. Desire of renown, and presumptuousambition, had characterized his youth. The one he had acquired in Greece;the other he had sacrificed to love. His intellect found sufficient fieldfor exercise in his domestic circle, whose members, all adorned byrefinement and literature, were many of them, like himself, distinguishedby genius. Yet active life was the genuine soil for his virtues; and hesometimes suffered tedium from the monotonous succession of events in ourretirement. Pride made him recoil from complaint; and gratitude andaffection to Perdita, generally acted as an opiate to all desire, save thatof meriting her love. We all observed the visitation of these feelings, andnone regretted them so much as Perdita. Her life consecrated to him, was aslight sacrifice to reward his choice, but was not that sufficient--Didhe need any gratification that she was unable to bestow? This was the onlycloud in the azure of her happiness.
His passage to power had been full of pain to both. He however attained hiswish; he filled the situation for which nature seemed to have moulded him.His activity was fed in wholesome measure, without either exhaustion orsatiety; his taste and genius found worthy expression in each of the modeshuman beings have invented to encage and manifest the spirit of beauty; thegoodness of his heart made him never weary of conducing to the well-beingof his fellow-creatures; his magnificent spirit, and aspirations for therespect and love of mankind, now received fruition; true, his exaltationwas temporary; perhaps it were better that it should be so. Habit would notdull his sense of the enjoyment of power; nor struggles, disappointment anddefeat await the end of that which would expire at its maturity. Hedetermined to extract and condense all of glory, power, and achievement,which might have resulted from a long reign, into the three years of hisProtectorate.
Raymond was eminently social. All that he now enjoyed would have beendevoid of pleasure to him, had it been unparticipated. But in Perdita hepossessed all that his heart could desire. Her love gave birth to sympathy;her intelligence made her understand him at a word; her powers of intellectenabled her to assist and guide him. He felt her worth. During the earlyyears of their union, the inequality of her temper, and yet unsubduedself-will which tarnished her character, had been a slight drawback to thefulness of his sentiment. Now that unchanged serenity, and gentlecompliance were added to her other qualifications, his respect equalled hislove. Years added to the strictness of their union. They did not now guessat, and totter on the pathway, divining the mode to please, hoping, yetfearing the continuance of bliss. Five years gave a sober certainty totheir emotions, though it did not rob them of their etherial nature. It hadgiven them a child; but it had not detracted from the personal attractionsof my sister. Timidity, which in her had almost amounted to awkwardness,was exchanged for a graceful decision of manner; frankness, instead ofreserve, characterized her physiognomy; and her voice was attuned tothrilling softness. She was now three and twenty, in the pride ofwomanhood, fulfilling the precious duties of wife and mother, possessed ofall her heart had ever coveted. Raymond was ten years older; to hisprevious beauty, noble mien, and commanding aspect, he now added gentlestbenevolence, winning tenderness, graceful and unwearied attention to thewishes of another.
The first secret that had existed between them was the visits of Raymond toEvadne. He had been struck by the fortitude and beauty of the ill-fatedGreek; and, when her constant tenderness towards him unfolded itself, heasked with astonishment, by what act of his he had merited this passionateand unrequited love. She was for a while the sole object of his reveries;and Perdita became aware that his thoughts and time were bestowed on asubject unparticipated by her. My sister was by nature destitute of thecommon feelings of anxious, petulant jealousy. The treasure which shepossessed in the affections of Raymond, was more necessary to her being,than the life-blood that animated her veins--more truly than Othello shemight say,
To be once in doubt, Is--once to be resolved.
On the present occasion she did not suspect any alienation of affection; butshe conjectured that some circumstance connected with his high place, hadoccasioned this mystery. She was startled and pained. She began to countthe long days, and months, and years which must elapse, before he would berestored to a private station, and unreservedly to her. She was not contentthat, even for a time, he should practice conc
ealment with her. She oftenrepined; but her trust in the singleness of his affection was undisturbed;and, when they were together, unchecked by fear, she opened her heart tothe fullest delight.
Time went on. Raymond, stopping mid-way in his wild career, paused suddenlyto think of consequences. Two results presented themselves in the view hetook of the future. That his intercourse with Evadne should continue asecret to, or that finally it should be discovered by Perdita. Thedestitute condition, and highly wrought feelings of his friend preventedhim from adverting to the possibility of exiling himself from her. In thefirst event he had bidden an eternal farewell to open-hearted converse, andentire sympathy with the companion of his life. The veil must be thickerthan that invented by Turkish jealousy; the wall higher than theunscaleable tower of Vathek, which should conceal from her the workings ofhis heart, and hide from her view the secret of his actions. This idea wasintolerably painful to him. Frankness and social feelings were the essenceof Raymond's nature; without them his qualities became common-place;without these to spread glory over his intercourse with Perdita, hisvaunted exchange of a throne for her love, was as weak and empty as therainbow hues which vanish when the sun is down. But there was no remedy.Genius, devotion, and courage; the adornments of his mind, and the energiesof his soul, all exerted to their uttermost stretch, could not roll backone hair's breadth the wheel of time's chariot; that which had been waswritten with the adamantine pen of reality, on the everlasting volume ofthe past; nor could agony and tears suffice to wash out one iota from theact fulfilled.
But this was the best side of the question. What, if circumstance shouldlead Perdita to suspect, and suspecting to be resolved? The fibres of hisframe became relaxed, and cold dew stood on his forehead, at this idea.Many men may scoff at his dread; but he read the future; and the peace ofPerdita was too dear to him, her speechless agony too certain, and toofearful, not to unman him. His course was speedily decided upon. If theworst befell; if she learnt the truth, he would neither stand herreproaches, or the anguish of her altered looks. He would forsake her,England, his friends, the scenes of his youth, the hopes of coming time, hewould seek another country, and in other scenes begin life again. Havingresolved on this, he became calmer. He endeavoured to guide with prudencethe steeds of destiny through the devious road which he had chosen, andbent all his efforts the better to conceal what he could not alter.
The perfect confidence that subsisted between Perdita and him, renderedevery communication common between them. They opened each other's letters,even as, until now, the inmost fold of the heart of each was disclosed tothe other. A letter came unawares, Perdita read it. Had it containedconfirmation, she must have been annihilated. As it was, trembling, cold,and pale, she sought Raymond. He was alone, examining some petitions latelypresented. She entered silently, sat on a sofa opposite to him, and gazedon him with a look of such despair, that wildest shrieks and dire moanswould have been tame exhibitions of misery, compared to the livingincarnation of the thing itself exhibited by her.
At first he did not take his eyes from the papers; when he raised them, hewas struck by the wretchedness manifest on her altered cheek; for a momenthe forgot his own acts and fears, and asked with consternation--"Dearestgirl, what is the matter; what has happened?"
"Nothing," she replied at first; "and yet not so," she continued, hurryingon in her speech; "you have secrets, Raymond; where have you been lately,whom have you seen, what do you conceal from me?--why am I banished fromyour confidence? Yet this is not it--I do not intend to entrap you withquestions--one will suffice--am I completely a wretch?"
With trembling hand she gave him the paper, and sat white and motionlesslooking at him while he read it. He recognised the hand-writing of Evadne,and the colour mounted in his cheeks. With lightning-speed he conceived thecontents of the letter; all was now cast on one die; falsehood and artificewere trifles in comparison with the impending ruin. He would eitherentirely dispel Perdita's suspicions, or quit her for ever. "My dear girl,"he said, "I have been to blame; but you must pardon me. I was in the wrongto commence a system of concealment; but I did it for the sake of sparingyou pain; and each day has rendered it more difficult for me to alter myplan. Besides, I was instigated by delicacy towards the unhappy writer ofthese few lines."
Perdita gasped: "Well," she cried, "well, go on!"
"That is all--this paper tells all. I am placed in the most difficultcircumstances. I have done my best, though perhaps I have done wrong. Mylove for you is inviolate."
Perdita shook her head doubtingly: "It cannot be," she cried, "I know thatit is not. You would deceive me, but I will not be deceived. I have lostyou, myself, my life!"
"Do you not believe me?" said Raymond haughtily.
"To believe you," she exclaimed, "I would give up all, and expire with joy,so that in death I could feel that you were true--but that cannot be!"
"Perdita," continued Raymond, "you do not see the precipice on which youstand. You may believe that I did not enter on my present line of conductwithout reluctance and pain. I knew that it was possible that yoursuspicions might be excited; but I trusted that my simple word would causethem to disappear. I built my hope on your confidence. Do you think that Iwill be questioned, and my replies disdainfully set aside? Do you thinkthat I will be suspected, perhaps watched, cross-questioned, anddisbelieved? I am not yet fallen so low; my honour is not yet so tarnished.You have loved me; I adored you. But all human sentiments come to an end.Let our affection expire--but let it not be exchanged for distrust andrecrimination. Heretofore we have been friends--lovers--let us notbecome enemies, mutual spies. I cannot live the object of suspicion--youcannot believe me--let us part!"
"Exactly so," cried Perdita, "I knew that it would come to this! Are we notalready parted? Does not a stream, boundless as ocean, deep as vacuum, yawnbetween us?"
Raymond rose, his voice was broken, his features convulsed, his manner calmas the earthquake-cradling atmosphere, he replied: "I am rejoiced that youtake my decision so philosophically. Doubtless you will play the part ofthe injured wife to admiration. Sometimes you may be stung with the feelingthat you have wronged me, but the condolence of your relatives, the pity ofthe world, the complacency which the consciousness of your own immaculateinnocence will bestow, will be excellent balm;--me you will never seemore!"
Raymond moved towards the door. He forgot that each word he spoke wasfalse. He personated his assumption of innocence even to self-deception.Have not actors wept, as they pourtrayed imagined passion? A more intensefeeling of the reality of fiction possessed Raymond. He spoke with pride;he felt injured. Perdita looked up; she saw his angry glance; his hand wason the lock of the door. She started up, she threw herself on his neck, shegasped and sobbed; he took her hand, and leading her to the sofa, sat downnear her. Her head fell on his shoulder, she trembled, alternate changes offire and ice ran through her limbs: observing her emotion he spoke withsoftened accents:
"The blow is given. I will not part from you in anger;--I owe you toomuch. I owe you six years of unalloyed happiness. But they are passed. Iwill not live the mark of suspicion, the object of jealousy. I love you toowell. In an eternal separation only can either of us hope for dignity andpropriety of action. We shall not then be degraded from our truecharacters. Faith and devotion have hitherto been the essence of ourintercourse;--these lost, let us not cling to the seedless husk of life,the unkernelled shell. You have your child, your brother, Idris, Adrian"--
"And you," cried Perdita, "the writer of that letter."
Uncontrollable indignation flashed from the eyes of Raymond. He knew thatthis accusation at least was false. "Entertain this belief," he cried, "hugit to your heart--make it a pillow to your head, an opiate for your eyes--I am content. But, by the God that made me, hell is not more false thanthe word you have spoken!"
Perdita was struck by the impassioned seriousness of his asseverations. Shereplied with earnestness, "I do not refuse to believe you, Raymond; on thecontrary I promise to put implici
t faith in your simple word. Only assureme that your love and faith towards me have never been violated; andsuspicion, and doubt, and jealousy will at once be dispersed. We shallcontinue as we have ever done, one heart, one hope, one life."
"I have already assured you of my fidelity," said Raymond with disdainfulcoldness, "triple assertions will avail nothing where one is despised. Iwill say no more; for I can add nothing to what I have already said, towhat you before contemptuously set aside. This contention is unworthy ofboth of us; and I confess that I am weary of replying to charges at onceunfounded and unkind."
Perdita tried to read his countenance, which he angrily averted. There wasso much of truth and nature in his resentment, that her doubts weredispelled. Her countenance, which for years had not expressed a feelingunallied to affection, became again radiant and satisfied. She found ithowever no easy task to soften and reconcile Raymond. At first he refusedto stay to hear her. But she would not be put off; secure of his unalteredlove, she was willing to undertake any labour, use any entreaty, to dispelhis anger. She obtained an hearing, he sat in haughty silence, but helistened. She first assured him of her boundless confidence; of this hemust be conscious, since but for that she would not seek to detain him. Sheenumerated their years of happiness; she brought before him past scenes ofintimacy and happiness; she pictured their future life, she mentioned theirchild--tears unbidden now filled her eyes. She tried to disperse them,but they refused to be checked--her utterance was choaked. She had notwept before. Raymond could not resist these signs of distress: he feltperhaps somewhat ashamed of the part he acted of the injured man, he whowas in truth the injurer. And then he devoutly loved Perdita; the bend ofher head, her glossy ringlets, the turn of her form were to him subjects ofdeep tenderness and admiration; as she spoke, her melodious tones enteredhis soul; he soon softened towards her, comforting and caressing her, andendeavouring to cheat himself into the belief that he had never wrongedher.
Raymond staggered forth from this scene, as a man might do, who had beenjust put to the torture, and looked forward to when it would be againinflicted. He had sinned against his own honour, by affirming, swearing to,a direct falsehood; true this he had palmed on a woman, and it mighttherefore be deemed less base--by others--not by him;--for whom hadhe deceived?--his own trusting, devoted, affectionate Perdita, whosegenerous belief galled him doubly, when he remembered the parade ofinnocence with which it had been exacted. The mind of Raymond was not sorough cast, nor had been so rudely handled, in the circumstance of life, asto make him proof to these considerations--on the contrary, he was allnerve; his spirit was as a pure fire, which fades and shrinks from everycontagion of foul atmosphere: but now the contagion had become incorporatedwith its essence, and the change was the more painful. Truth and falsehood,love and hate lost their eternal boundaries, heaven rushed in to minglewith hell; while his sensitive mind, turned to a field for such battle, wasstung to madness. He heartily despised himself, he was angry with Perdita,and the idea of Evadne was attended by all that was hideous and cruel. Hispassions, always his masters, acquired fresh strength, from the long sleepin which love had cradled them, the clinging weight of destiny bent himdown; he was goaded, tortured, fiercely impatient of that worst ofmiseries, the sense of remorse. This troubled state yielded by degrees, tosullen animosity, and depression of spirits. His dependants, even hisequals, if in his present post he had any, were startled to find anger,derision, and bitterness in one, before distinguished for suavity andbenevolence of manner. He transacted public business with distaste, andhastened from it to the solitude which was at once his bane and relief. Hemounted a fiery horse, that which had borne him forward to victory inGreece; he fatigued himself with deadening exercise, losing the pangs of atroubled mind in animal sensation.
He slowly recovered himself; yet, at last, as one might from the effects ofpoison, he lifted his head from above the vapours of fever and passion intothe still atmosphere of calm reflection. He meditated on what was best tobe done. He was first struck by the space of time that had elapsed, sincemadness, rather than any reasonable impulse, had regulated his actions. Amonth had gone by, and during that time he had not seen Evadne. Her power,which was linked to few of the enduring emotions of his heart, had greatlydecayed. He was no longer her slave--no longer her lover: he would neversee her more, and by the completeness of his return, deserve the confidenceof Perdita.
Yet, as he thus determined, fancy conjured up the miserable abode of theGreek girl. An abode, which from noble and lofty principle, she had refusedto exchange for one of greater luxury. He thought of the splendour of hersituation and appearance when he first knew her; he thought of her life atConstantinople, attended by every circumstance of oriental magnificence; ofher present penury, her daily task of industry, her lorn state, her faded,famine-struck cheek. Compassion swelled his breast; he would see her onceagain; he would devise some plan for restoring her to society, and theenjoyment of her rank; their separation would then follow, as a matter ofcourse.
Again he thought, how during this long month, he had avoided Perdita,flying from her as from the stings of his own conscience. But he was awakenow; all this should be remedied; and future devotion erase the memory ofthis only blot on the serenity of their life. He became cheerful, as hethought of this, and soberly and resolutely marked out the line of conducthe would adopt. He remembered that he had promised Perdita to be presentthis very evening (the 19th of October, anniversary of his election asProtector) at a festival given in his honour. Good augury should thisfestival be of the happiness of future years. First, he would look in onEvadne; he would not stay; but he owed her some account, some compensationfor his long and unannounced absence; and then to Perdita, to the forgottenworld, to the duties of society, the splendour of rank, the enjoyment ofpower.
After the scene sketched in the preceding pages, Perdita had contemplatedan entire change in the manners and conduct of Raymond. She expectedfreedom of communication, and a return to those habits of affectionateintercourse which had formed the delight of her life. But Raymond did notjoin her in any of her avocations. He transacted the business of the dayapart from her; he went out, she knew not whither. The pain inflicted bythis disappointment was tormenting and keen. She looked on it as adeceitful dream, and tried to throw off the consciousness of it; but likethe shirt of Nessus, it clung to her very flesh, and ate with sharp agonyinto her vital principle. She possessed that (though such an assertion mayappear a paradox) which belongs to few, a capacity of happiness. Herdelicate organization and creative imagination rendered her peculiarlysusceptible of pleasurable emotion. The overflowing warmth of her heart, bymaking love a plant of deep root and stately growth, had attuned her wholesoul to the reception of happiness, when she found in Raymond all thatcould adorn love and satisfy her imagination. But if the sentiment on whichthe fabric of her existence was founded, became common place throughparticipation, the endless succession of attentions and graceful actionsnapt by transfer, his universe of love wrested from her, happiness mustdepart, and then be exchanged for its opposite. The same peculiarities ofcharacter rendered her sorrows agonies; her fancy magnified them, hersensibility made her for ever open to their renewed impression; loveenvenomed the heart-piercing sting. There was neither submission, patience,nor self-abandonment in her grief; she fought with it, struggled beneathit, and rendered every pang more sharp by resistance. Again and again theidea recurred, that he loved another. She did him justice; she believedthat he felt a tender affection for her; but give a paltry prize to him whoin some life-pending lottery has calculated on the possession of tens ofthousands, and it will disappoint him more than a blank. The affection andamity of a Raymond might be inestimable; but, beyond that affection,embosomed deeper than friendship, was the indivisible treasure of love.Take the sum in its completeness, and no arithmetic can calculate itsprice; take from it the smallest portion, give it but the name of parts,separate it into degrees and sections, and like the magician's coin, thevalueless gold of the mine, is turned to
vilest substance. There is ameaning in the eye of love; a cadence in its voice, an irradiation in itssmile, the talisman of whose enchantments one only can possess; its spiritis elemental, its essence single, its divinity an unit. The very heart andsoul of Raymond and Perdita had mingled, even as two mountain brooks thatjoin in their descent, and murmuring and sparkling flow over shiningpebbles, beside starry flowers; but let one desert its primal course, or bedammed up by choaking obstruction, and the other shrinks in its alteredbanks. Perdita was sensible of the failing of the tide that fed her life.Unable to support the slow withering of her hopes, she suddenly formed aplan, resolving to terminate at once the period of misery, and to bring toan happy conclusion the late disastrous events.
The anniversary was at hand of the exaltation of Raymond to the office ofProtector; and it was customary to celebrate this day by a splendidfestival. A variety of feelings urged Perdita to shed double magnificenceover the scene; yet, as she arrayed herself for the evening gala, shewondered herself at the pains she took, to render sumptuous the celebrationof an event which appeared to her the beginning of her sufferings. Woebefall the day, she thought, woe, tears, and mourning betide the hour, thatgave Raymond another hope than love, another wish than my devotion; andthrice joyful the moment when he shall be restored to me! God knows, I putmy trust in his vows, and believe his asserted faith--but for that, Iwould not seek what I am now resolved to attain. Shall two years more bethus passed, each day adding to our alienation, each act being anotherstone piled on the barrier which separates us? No, my Raymond, my onlybeloved, sole possession of Perdita! This night, this splendid assembly,these sumptuous apartments, and this adornment of your tearful girl, areall united to celebrate your abdication. Once for me, you relinquished theprospect of a crown. That was in days of early love, when I could only holdout the hope, not the assurance of happiness. Now you have the experienceof all that I can give, the heart's devotion, taintless love, andunhesitating subjection to you. You must choose between these and yourprotectorate. This, proud noble, is your last night! Perdita has bestowedon it all of magnificent and dazzling that your heart best loves--but,from these gorgeous rooms, from this princely attendance, from power andelevation, you must return with to-morrow's sun to our rural abode; for Iwould not buy an immortality of joy, by the endurance of one more weeksister to the last.
Brooding over this plan, resolved when the hour should come, to propose,and insist upon its accomplishment, secure of his consent, the heart ofPerdita was lightened, or rather exalted. Her cheek was flushed by theexpectation of struggle; her eyes sparkled with the hope of triumph. Havingcast her fate upon a die, and feeling secure of winning, she, whom I havenamed as bearing the stamp of queen of nations on her noble brow, now rosesuperior to humanity, and seemed in calm power, to arrest with her finger,the wheel of destiny. She had never before looked so supremely lovely.
We, the Arcadian shepherds of the tale, had intended to be present at thisfestivity, but Perdita wrote to entreat us not to come, or to absentourselves from Windsor; for she (though she did not reveal her scheme tous) resolved the next morning to return with Raymond to our dear circle,there to renew a course of life in which she had found entire felicity.Late in the evening she entered the apartments appropriated to thefestival. Raymond had quitted the palace the night before; he had promisedto grace the assembly, but he had not yet returned. Still she felt surethat he would come at last; and the wider the breach might appear at thiscrisis, the more secure she was of closing it for ever.
It was as I said, the nineteenth of October; the autumn was far advancedand dreary. The wind howled; the half bare trees were despoiled of theremainder of their summer ornament; the state of the air which induced thedecay of vegetation, was hostile to cheerfulness or hope. Raymond had beenexalted by the determination he had made; but with the declining day hisspirits declined. First he was to visit Evadne, and then to hasten to thepalace of the Protectorate. As he walked through the wretched streets inthe neighbourhood of the luckless Greek's abode, his heart smote him forthe whole course of his conduct towards her. First, his having entered intoany engagement that should permit her to remain in such a state ofdegradation; and then, after a short wild dream, having left her to drearsolitude, anxious conjecture, and bitter, still--disappointedexpectation. What had she done the while, how supported his absence andneglect? Light grew dim in these close streets, and when the well knowndoor was opened, the staircase was shrouded in perfect night. He groped hisway up, he entered the garret, he found Evadne stretched speechless, almostlifeless on her wretched bed. He called for the people of the house, butcould learn nothing from them, except that they knew nothing. Her story wasplain to him, plain and distinct as the remorse and horror that dartedtheir fangs into him. When she found herself forsaken by him, she lost theheart to pursue her usual avocations; pride forbade every application tohim; famine was welcomed as the kind porter to the gates of death, withinwhose opening folds she should now, without sin, quickly repose. Nocreature came near her, as her strength failed.
If she died, where could there be found on record a murderer, whose cruelact might compare with his? What fiend more wanton in his mischief, whatdamned soul more worthy of perdition! But he was not reserved for thisagony of self-reproach. He sent for medical assistance; the hours passed,spun by suspense into ages; the darkness of the long autumnal night yieldedto day, before her life was secure. He had her then removed to a morecommodious dwelling, and hovered about her, again and again to assurehimself that she was safe.
In the midst of his greatest suspense and fear as to the event, heremembered the festival given in his honour, by Perdita; in his honourthen, when misery and death were affixing indelible disgrace to his name,honour to him whose crimes deserved a scaffold; this was the worst mockery.Still Perdita would expect him; he wrote a few incoherent words on a scrapof paper, testifying that he was well, and bade the woman of the house takeit to the palace, and deliver it into the hands of the wife of the LordProtector. The woman, who did not know him, contemptuously asked, how hethought she should gain admittance, particularly on a festal night, to thatlady's presence? Raymond gave her his ring to ensure the respect of themenials. Thus, while Perdita was entertaining her guests, and anxiouslyawaiting the arrival of her lord, his ring was brought her; and she wastold that a poor woman had a note to deliver to her from its wearer.
The vanity of the old gossip was raised by her commission, which, afterall, she did not understand, since she had no suspicion, even now thatEvadne's visitor was Lord Raymond. Perdita dreaded a fall from his horse,or some similar accident--till the woman's answers woke other fears. Froma feeling of cunning blindly exercised, the officious, if not malignantmessenger, did not speak of Evadne's illness; but she garrulously gave anaccount of Raymond's frequent visits, adding to her narration suchcircumstances, as, while they convinced Perdita of its truth, exaggeratedthe unkindness and perfidy of Raymond. Worst of all, his absence now fromthe festival, his message wholly unaccounted for, except by the disgracefulhints of the woman, appeared the deadliest insult. Again she looked at thering, it was a small ruby, almost heart-shaped, which she had herself givenhim. She looked at the hand-writing, which she could not mistake, andrepeated to herself the words--"Do not, I charge you, I entreat you,permit your guests to wonder at my absence:" the while the old crone goingon with her talk, filled her ear with a strange medley of truth andfalsehood. At length Perdita dismissed her.
The poor girl returned to the assembly, where her presence had not beenmissed. She glided into a recess somewhat obscured, and leaning against anornamental column there placed, tried to recover herself. Her facultieswere palsied. She gazed on some flowers that stood near in a carved vase:that morning she had arranged them, they were rare and lovely plants; evennow all aghast as she was, she observed their brilliant colours and starryshapes.--"Divine infoliations of the spirit of beauty," she exclaimed,"Ye droop not, neither do ye mourn; the despair that clasps my heart, hasnot spread contagion over you!--Wh
y am I not a partner of yourinsensibility, a sharer in your calm!"
She paused. "To my task," she continued mentally, "my guests must notperceive the reality, either as it regards him or me. I obey; they shallnot, though I die the moment they are gone. They shall behold the antipodesof what is real--for I will appear to live--while I am--dead." Itrequired all her self-command, to suppress the gush of tears self-pitycaused at this idea. After many struggles, she succeeded, and turned tojoin the company.
All her efforts were now directed to the dissembling her internal conflict.She had to play the part of a courteous hostess; to attend to all; to shinethe focus of enjoyment and grace. She had to do this, while in deep woe shesighed for loneliness, and would gladly have exchanged her crowded roomsfor dark forest depths, or a drear, night-enshadowed heath. But she becamegay. She could not keep in the medium, nor be, as was usual with her,placidly content. Every one remarked her exhilaration of spirits; as allactions appear graceful in the eye of rank, her guests surrounded herapplaudingly, although there was a sharpness in her laugh, and anabruptness in her sallies, which might have betrayed her secret to anattentive observer. She went on, feeling that, if she had paused for amoment, the checked waters of misery would have deluged her soul, that herwrecked hopes would raise their wailing voices, and that those who nowechoed her mirth, and provoked her repartees, would have shrunk in fearfrom her convulsive despair. Her only consolation during the violence whichshe did herself, was to watch the motions of an illuminated clock, andinternally count the moments which must elapse before she could be alone.
At length the rooms began to thin. Mocking her own desires, she rallied herguests on their early departure. One by one they left her--at length shepressed the hand of her last visitor. "How cold and damp your hand is,"said her friend; "you are over fatigued, pray hasten to rest." Perditasmiled faintly--her guest left her; the carriage rolling down the streetassured the final departure. Then, as if pursued by an enemy, as if wingshad been at her feet, she flew to her own apartment, she dismissed herattendants, she locked the doors, she threw herself wildly on the floor,she bit her lips even to blood to suppress her shrieks, and lay long a preyto the vulture of despair, striving not to think, while multitudinous ideasmade a home of her heart; and ideas, horrid as furies, cruel as vipers, andpoured in with such swift succession, that they seemed to jostle and woundeach other, while they worked her up to madness.
At length she rose, more composed, not less miserable. She stood before alarge mirror--she gazed on her reflected image; her light and gracefuldress, the jewels that studded her hair, and encircled her beauteous armsand neck, her small feet shod in satin, her profuse and glossy tresses, allwere to her clouded brow and woe-begone countenance like a gorgeous frameto a dark tempest-pourtraying picture. "Vase am I," she thought, "vasebrimful of despair's direst essence. Farewell, Perdita! farewell, poorgirl! never again will you see yourself thus; luxury and wealth are nolonger yours; in the excess of your poverty you may envy the homelessbeggar; most truly am I without a home! I live on a barren desart, which,wide and interminable, brings forth neither fruit or flower; in the midstis a solitary rock, to which thou, Perdita, art chained, and thou seest thedreary level stretch far away."
She threw open her window, which looked on the palace-garden. Light anddarkness were struggling together, and the orient was streaked by roseateand golden rays. One star only trembled in the depth of the kindlingatmosphere. The morning air blowing freshly over the dewy plants, rushedinto the heated room. "All things go on," thought Perdita, "all thingsproceed, decay, and perish! When noontide has passed, and the weary day hasdriven her team to their western stalls, the fires of heaven rise from theEast, moving in their accustomed path, they ascend and descend the skieyhill. When their course is fulfilled, the dial begins to cast westward anuncertain shadow; the eye-lids of day are opened, and birds and flowers,the startled vegetation, and fresh breeze awaken; the sun at lengthappears, and in majestic procession climbs the capitol of heaven. Allproceeds, changes and dies, except the sense of misery in my burstingheart.
"Ay, all proceeds and changes: what wonder then, that love has journied onto its setting, and that the lord of my life has changed? We call thesupernal lights fixed, yet they wander about yonder plain, and if I lookagain where I looked an hour ago, the face of the eternal heavens isaltered. The silly moon and inconstant planets vary nightly their erraticdance; the sun itself, sovereign of the sky, ever and anon deserts histhrone, and leaves his dominion to night and winter. Nature grows old, andshakes in her decaying limbs,--creation has become bankrupt! What wonderthen, that eclipse and death have led to destruction the light of thy life,O Perdita!"
The Last Man Page 10
