"There are some men that have the appearance of being devoid of familyaffection, who in reality cherish it in the deepest and most passionatedegree. Such a man was Colonel Japha. You have doubtless heard from yourcradle what the neighbors thought of this stately, old fashionedgentleman. He was too handsome in his youth, too proudly reticent in hismanhood, too self-contained and unrelenting in his age, not to be thetalk of any town that numbered him among its inhabitants. But only frommyself, a relative of the family and his housekeeper for years, can youlearn with what undeviating faith and love he clung to the few upon whomhe allowed his heart to fasten in affection. When he married Miss Carey,the world said, 'He has chosen a beauty, because fine manners and apretty face look well behind the Japha coffee-urn!' But we, that is,this same young wife and myself, knew that in marrying her he had takenunto himself his other half, the one sweet woman for whom his proudheart could beat and before whom his stately head could bow. When shedied, the world exclaimed, 'He will soon fill her place!' But I whowatched the last look that passed between them in the valley of theshadow of that death, knew that the years would come and the years wouldgo without seeing Colonel Japha marry again.
"The little babe whom she left to his care, took all the love which hehad left. From the moment it began to speak, he centered in its tinylife all the hope and all the pride of his solitary heart. And the Japhapride was nearly as great as the Japha heart. She was a pretty child;not a beauty like her mother or like you, my dear, who however so nearlyresemble her. But for all that, pretty enough to satisfy the eyes of hersecretly doting father, and her openly doting nurse and cousin. I saysecretly doting father. I do not mean by that that he regarded her withan affection which he never displayed, but that it was his way to lavishhis caresses at home and in the privacy of her little nursery. He nevermade a parade of anything but his pride. If he loved her, it was enoughfor her to know it. In the street and the houses of their friends, hewas the strict, somewhat severe father, to whom her childish eyes liftedat first with awe, but afterwards with a quiet defiance, that when Ifirst saw it, made my heart stand still with unreasoning alarm.
"She was so reserved a child and yet so deeply passionate. From thebeginning I felt that I did not understand her. I loved her; I havenever loved any mortal as I did her--and do; but I could not follow herimpulses or judge of her feelings by her looks.
"When she grew older it was still worse. She never contradicted herfather, or appeared in any open way to disobey his commands, or thwarthim in his plans. Yet she always did what she pleased, and that soquietly, he frequently did not observe that matters had taken any otherdirection, than that which he had himself ordained. 'It is her mother'stact,' he used to say. Alas it was something more than that; it was herfather's will united to the unscrupulousness of some forgotten ancestor.
"But with the glamour of her eighteen years upon me, I did not recognizethis then, any more than he. I saw her through the magic glasses of myown absorbing love, and tremble as I frequently would in the still scornof her unfathomable passion, I never dreamed she could do anything thatwould seriously offend her father's affection or mortify his pride. Thetruth is, that Jacqueline did not love us. Say what you will of theclaims of kindred, and the right of every father to his childrens'regard, Jacqueline Japha accepted the devotion that was lavished uponher, but she gave none in return. She could not, perhaps. Her father wastoo cold in public and too warm in his home-bursts of affection. I wasplain and a widow; no mate for her in age, condition or estate. Shecould neither look up to me nor lean upon me. I had been her nurse inchildhood and though a relative, was still a dependent; what was therein all that to love! If her mother had lived--But we will not dwell onpossibilities. Jacqueline had no mother and no friend that was dearenough to her, to teach her unwilling soul the great lesson ofself-control and sacrifice.
"You will say that is strange. That situated as she was, she ought tohave found friends both dear and congenial; but that would be to declarethat Jacqueline was like others of her age and class, whereas she wassingle and alone; a dark-browed girl, who allured the gaze of both menand women, but who cared but little for any one till--But wait, child. Ishall have to speak of matters that will cause your cheeks to blush. Layyour head down on my knee, for I cannot bear the sight of blushes upon acheek more innocent than hers."
With a gentle movement she urged Paula to sit upon a little stool at herfeet, pressed the young girl's head down upon her lap, and burying thelovely brow beneath her aged hands, went hurriedly on.
"You are young, dear, and may not know what it is to love a man.Jacqueline was young also, but from the moment she returned home to usfrom a visit she had been making in Boston, I perceived that somethinghad entered her life that was destined to make a great change in her;and when a few weeks later, young Robert Holt from Boston, came to payhis respects to her in her father's house, I knew, or thought I did,what that something was. We were sitting in this room I remember, whenthe servant-girl came in, and announced that Mr. Holt was in the parlor.Jacqueline was lying on the sofa, and her father was in his usual chairby the table. At the name, Holt, the girl rose as if it had suddenlythundered, or the lightning had flashed. I see her now. She was dressedin white--though it was early fall she still clung to her summerdresses--her dark hair was piled high, and caught here and there withold-fashioned gold pins, a splendid red rose burned on her bosom, andanother flashed crimson as blood from her folded hands.
"'Holt?' repeated the Colonel without turning his head, 'I know no suchman.'
"'He said he wished to see Miss Jacqueline,' simpered the servant.
"'Oh,' returned the Colonel indifferently. He never showed surprisebefore the servants--and went on with his book, still without turninghis head.
"I thought if he had turned it, he would scarcely sit there reading soquietly; for Jacqueline who had not stirred from her alert and uprightposition, was looking at him in a way no father, least of all a fatherwho loved his child as he did her, could have beheld without agitation.It was the glance of a tigress waiting for the sight of an inconsideratemove, in order to spring. It was wild unconstrainable joy, eying apossible check and madly defying it. I shuddered as I looked at her eye,and sickened as I perceived a huge drop of blood ooze from her whitefingers, where they unconsciously clutched a thorn, and drop dark anddisfiguring upon her virgin garments. At the indifferent exclamation ofher father, her features relaxed, and she turned haughtily towards thegirl, with a veiling of her secret delight that already bespoke thewoman of the world.
"'Tell Mr. Holt that I will see him presently,' said she, and was aboutto follow the girl from the room when I caught her by the sleeve.
"'You will have to change your dress,' said I, and I pointed to theominous blot disfiguring its otherwise spotless white.
"She started and gave me a quick glance.
"'I have a skin like a spider's web," cried she. 'I should never meddlewith roses.' But I noticed she did not toss the blossom away.
"'Who is this Mr. Holt?' now asked the Colonel suddenly turning, theservant having left the room.
"'He is a gentleman I met in Boston,' came from his daughter's lips, inher usual light and easy tones. 'He is probably passing through our townon his way to Providence, where I was told he did business. His call isno more than a formality, I presume.' And with an indifferent littlesmile and nod, she vanished from the room, that a moment before had beenfilled with the threat of her silent passion. The Colonel gave a shortsigh but returned undisturbed to his book.
"In the course of a few minutes Jacqueline came back. She had changedher dress for one as summerlike as the other, but still finer and moreelaborate. She looked elegant, imperious, but the joy had died out fromher eyes, and in its place was another expression incomprehensible tome, but fully as alarming as any that had gone before. 'Mr. Holt findshimself obliged to remain in town over night, and would like to pay hisrespects to you,' said she to her father.
"The Colonel immediately rose, looking very g
rand as he turned andsurveyed his daughter with his clear penetrating eye.'
"'You have a lover, have you not?' he asked, laying his hand on her bareand beautifully polished shoulder.
"An odd little smile crossed her lip. She looked at her hands on whichnever a ring shone, and coquettishly tossed her head. 'Let the gentlemanspeak for himself,' said she, 'I give no man his title until he hasearned it.'
"Her father laughed. A lover was not such a dreadful thing in his eyesprovided he were worthy. And Jacqueline would not choose unworthily ofcourse--a Japha and his daughter! 'Well then,' said he, 'let us see ifhe can make good his title; Holt is not a bad name and Boston is not apoor place to hail from.' And without more ado, they hurried from theroom. But the light had all died out from her face! What did it mean?
"At tea time I met the gentleman. He had evidently made his title good.I was not only favorably impressed with him but actually struck. Of allthe high-bred, clear-eyed, polished and kindly gentlemen who had satabout the board since I first came into the family in Mrs. Japha'slifetime, here was surely the finest, the handsomest and the best; andsurprised in more ways than one, I was giving full play to my relief andexhilaration, when I caught sight of Jacqueline's eye, and felt againthe cold shudders of secret doubt and apprehension. Smile upon him asshe would, coquet with him as she did, the flame and the glory that drewher like an inspiration to her feet when his name was announced, hadfled, and left not a shadow behind. Had he failed in his expressions ofdevotion? Was he hard or cold or severe, under all that pleasant andcharming manner? Had the hot soul of our motherless child rushed uponice, and in the shock of the dreadful chill, fallen inert? No, his looksbespake no coldness; they dwelt upon Jacqueline's lovely but inscrutableface, with honest fervor and boundless regard. He evidently loved hermost passionately, but she--if it had not been for that first moment ofunconscious betrayal, I should have decided that she cared for him nomore than she did for the few others who had adored her, in the shortspace of her incomprehensible life.
"The mystery was not cleared up when she came to me that night with ashort, 'How do you like my lover, Margery?' I was forty years hersenior, but she always called me Margery.
"'I think he is the finest, most agreeable man I ever met,' said I. 'Ishe your lover, Jacqueline? Are you going to marry him?'
"She turned about from the vase which she was denuding of its flowers,and gave me one of her sphinx-like looks. 'You must ask papa,' said she.'He holds the destinies of the Japhas in his hand, does he not?'
"'Does he?' I involuntarily whispered to myself; following the steadypoise of her head and the assured movements of her graceful form, with aglance of doubt, but loving her all the same, O loving her all and everthe same!
"'Your father is not the man to cross you when the object of youraffections is as worthy as this gentleman. He loved your mother toofondly.'
"'He did?' She had turned quick as a flash and was looking me straightin the eyes.
"'I never saw such union!' I exclaimed, vaguely remembering that hermother's name had always seemed to have power to move her. 'There was noparade of it before the world; but here at their own fireside, it washeart to heart and soul to soul. It was not love it was assimilation.'
"The young girl rose upon me like a flame; her very eyes seemed to dartfire; her lips looked like living coals; she was almost appalling in herterrible beauty and superhuman passion. 'Not love!' she exclaimed, herevery word falling like a burning spark, 'not love but assimilation! Yetdo you suppose if I told my father that my soul had found its mate; myheart its other half; that this, _this_ nature,' here she struck herbreast as she would a stone, 'had at last found its master; that thewayward spirit of which you have sometimes been afraid, was become apart of another's life, another's soul, another's hope, do you supposehe would listen? Hush!' she cried, seeing me about to speak. 'You talkof love, what do you know of it, what does he know of it, who saw hisyoung wife die, yet himself consented to live? Is love a sitting by thefire with hand locked in hand while the winter winds rage and thedroning kettle sings? Love is a going through the fire, a braving of thewinter winds, a scattering of the soul in sparks that the night and thetempest lick up without putting out the germ of the eternal flame.Love!' she half laughed; 'O, it takes a soul that has never squanderedits treasure upon every passing beggar, to know how to love! Do you seethat star?' It was night as I have said and we were standing near anopen window. 'It has lost its moorings and is falling; when it descriesthe ocean it will plunge into it; so with some natures, they soar highand keep their orbit well, till an invisible hand turns them from theircourse and they fall, to be swallowed up, aye swallowed up, lost andburied in the great sea that has awaited them so long.'
"'And you love--like this--' I murmured, quailing before the power ofher passion.
"'Would it not be strange if I did not,' she asked in an altered voice.'You say he is everything noble, handsome and attractive.'
"Yes, yes,' I murmured, 'but--'
"She did not wait to hear what lay behind that but. Picking up herflowers, she hastily crossed the room. 'Did my young mother shriek fromjoy, when my father's horses ran away with them along that deadlyprecipice at the side of the Southmore road? To lie for a few maddeningmoments on the breast of the man you love, earth reeling beneath you,heaven swimming above you, and then with a cry of bliss to fall heart toheart, down the hideous gap of some awful gulf, and be dashed intoeternity with the cry still on your lips, that is what I call love andthat is what I--'
"She paused, turned upon me the whole splendor of her face, seemed torealize to what an extent her impetuosity had lifted the veil with whichshe usually shrouded her bitterly suppressed nature, and calming herselfwith a sudden quick movement, gave me a short mocking courtesy and leftthe room.
"Do you wonder that for half the night I sat up brooding and alive tothe faintest sounds!
"Next day Mr. Holt called again, and a couple of weeks after--longenough to enable Colonel Japha to make whatever inquiries he chose as tohis claims as a gentleman of means and position--sent a formal entreatyfor Jacqueline's hand. I had never seen Colonel Japha more moved. Hisadmiration for the young man was hearty and sincere. From a worldlypoint of view, as well as from all higher standpoints, the match was oneof which he could be proud; and yet to speak the word that wouldseparate from him the only creature that he loved, was hard as thecutting off an arm or the plucking out of an eye. 'Do you think sheloves him?' asked he of me with a rare condescension of which he was notoften guilty. 'You are a woman and ought to understand her better thanI. Do you think she loves him?'
"After the words I had heard her speak, what could I reply but, 'Yes,sir; she is of a reserved nature and controls her feelings in hispresence, but she loves him for all that, with the intensest fervor andpassion.'
"He repeated again, 'You are a woman and you ought to know.' And thencalled his daughter to him.
"I cannot tell what passed between them, but the upshot of it was, thatthe Colonel despatched an answer to the effect that the father's consentwould not be lacking, provided the daughter's could be obtained. Ilearned this from Jacqueline herself who brought me the letter to post.
"'You see then, that your father understands,' said I.
"Her rich red lip curled mockingly, but she did not reply.
"Naturally Mr. Holt answered to this communication in person. Jacquelinereceived him with a fitful coquetry that evidently puzzled him, for allthe distinguishing charm which it added to a beauty apt to be tooreserved and statue-like. She however took his ring which blazed on herfinger like a drop of ice on congealed snow. 'I am engaged,' shemurmured as she passed by my door, 'and to a Holt!' The words rang longin my ears; why?
"She desired no congratulations; she permitted nothing to be said abouther engagement, among the neighbors. She had even taken off her ringwhich I found lying loose in one of her bureau drawers. And no one daredto remonstrate, not even her father, punctillious as he was in allmatters of social etiquette.
The fact is, Jacqueline was not the samegirl she had been before she gave her promise to Mr. Holt. From themoment he bade her good-bye, with the remark that he was going away toget a golden cage for his bride, she began to reveal a change. The coldreserve gave way to feverish expectancy. She trod these rooms as ifthere were burning steels in the floors, she looked from the windows asif they were prison bars; night and day she gazed from them yet shenever went out. The letters she received from him were barely read andtossed aside; it was his coming for which she hungered. Her fathernoticed her restless and eager gaze, and frequently sighed. I felt herstrange removed manner and secretly wept. 'If he does not amply returnthis passion,' thought I, 'my darling will find her life a hell!'
"But he did return it; of that I felt sure. It was my only comfort.
"Suddenly one day the restlessness vanished. Her beauty burst like aflame from smoke; she trod like a spirit that hears invisible airs. Iwatched her with amazement till she said 'Mr. Holt comes to-night,' thenI thought all was explained and went smiling about my work. She camedown in the afternoon clad as I had never seen her before. She wore oneof her Boston dresses and she looked superb in it. From the crown of herhead to the sole of her foot, she dazzled like a moving picture; but shelacked one adornment; there was no ring on her finger. 'Jacqueline!'cried I, 'you have forgotten something.' And I pointed towards her hand.
"She glanced at it, blushed a trifle as I thought, and pulled it out ofher pocket. 'I have it,' said she, 'but it is too large,' and she thrustit carelessly back.
"At three o'clock the train came in. Then I saw her eye flash and herlip burn. In a few minutes later two gentlemen appeared at the gate.
"'Mr. Holt and his brother!' were the words I heard whispered throughthe house. But I did not need that announcement to understand Jacquelineat last."
The Sword of Damocles: A Story of New York Life Page 26
