CHAPTER XXI.
"And if division come, it soon is past, Too sharp, too strange an agony to last. And like some river's bright, abundant tide, Which art or accident had forc'd aside, The well-springs of affection gushing o'er, Back to their natural channels flow once more." --Mrs. Norton.
Left alone, Zoe sat meditating on her mother-in-law's advice.
"Oh," she said to herself, "if I could only know that my husband's loveisn't gone forever, I could take comfort in planning to carry it out; butoh, if he hadn't quite left off caring for me, how could he threaten meso, and then go away without making up, without saying good-by, even if hedidn't kiss me? I couldn't have gone away from him so for one day, and heexpects to be away for ten. Ten days! such a long, long while!" and hertears fell like rain.
She wiped them away, after a little, opened her books and tried to study,but she could not fix her mind upon the subject; her thoughts would wanderfrom it to Edward travelling farther and farther from her, and the tearskept dropping on the page.
She gave it up and tried to sew, but could mot see to take her stitches orthread her needle for the blinding tears.
She put on her hat and a veil to hide her tear-stained face and swolleneyes, stole quietly down-stairs and out into the grounds, where shewandered about solitary and sad.
Everywhere she missed Edward; she could think of nothing but him and hisdispleasure, and her heart was filled with sad forebodings for the future.Would he ever, ever love and be kind to her again?
After a while she crept back to her apartments, taking care to avoidmeeting any one.
But Elsie was there looking for her. The children's lesson hours wereover, they were going for a drive, and hoped Zoe would go along.
"Thank you, mamma, but I do not care to go to-day," Zoe answered in achoking voice, and turned away to hide her tears.
"My dear child, my dear, foolish little girl!" Elsie said, putting herarms around her, "why should you grieve so? Ned will soon be at homeagain, if all goes well. He is not very far away, and if you should betaken ill, or need him very much for any reason, a telegram would bringhim to you in a few hours."
"But he went away without kissing me good-by; he didn't kiss me last nightor this morning." The words were on the tip of Zoe's tongue, but she heldthem back, and answered only with fresh tears and sobs.
"I'm afraid you are not well, dear," Elsie said. "What can I do for you?"
"Nothing, thank you, mamma. I didn't sleep quite so well as usual lastnight, and my head aches. I'll lie down and try to get a nap."
"Do, dear, and I hope it will relieve the poor head. As you are a healthylittle body, I presume the pain has been brought on merely by loss ofsleep and crying. I think Edward must not leave you for so long a timeagain. Would you like mamma to stay with you, darling?" she asked, with amotherly caress.
Zoe declined the offer; she would be more likely to sleep if quite alone;and Elsie withdrew after seeing her comfortably established upon the bed.
"Strange," she said to herself as she passed on through the upper hall anddown the broad staircase into the lower one, "it can hardly be thatEdward's absence alone can distress her so greatly. I fear there is somemisunderstanding between them. I think I must telegraph for Edward if shecontinues so inconsolable. His wife's health and happiness are of far moreconsequence than any business matter. But I shall consult papa first, ofcourse."
She went into the library, found him sitting there, and laid the casebefore him.
He shared her fear that all was not right between the young couple, andremarked that, unfortunately, Edward had too much of his grandfather'ssternness and disposition to domineer.
"I don't like to hear you depreciate yourself, papa," Elsie said. "Edwardmay have that disposition without having got it from you. And I am suremamma would indignantly repel the insinuation that you were ever adomineering husband."
"Perhaps so; my daughter was the safety-valve in my case. Well, daughter,my advice is, wait till to-morrow at all events. I must say she doesn'tseem to me one of the kind to submit tamely to oppression. I did not likeher behavior last evening, and it may be that she needs the lesson herhusband seems to be giving her. He certainly has been affectionate enoughin the past to make it reasonable to suppose he is not abusing her now."
"Oh, I could never think he would do that!" exclaimed his mother, "and Ibelieve in my heart he would hurry home at once if he knew how she isfretting over his absence."
It was near the dinner hour when Elsie returned from her drive, andstealing on tiptoe into Zoe's bedroom she found her fast asleep. Hereyelashes were still wet, and she looked flushed and feverish.
Elsie gazed at her in tender pity and some little anxiety; the face was soyoung and child-like, and even in sleep wore a grieved expression thattouched the kind mother heart.
"Poor little orphan!" she sighed to herself, "she must feel very lonelyand forlorn in her husband's absence, especially if things have gone wrongbetween them. How could I ever have borne a word or look of displeasurefrom my husband! I hope she is not going to be ill."
"Is Zoe not coming down?" Mr. Dinsmore asked as the family gathered aboutthe dinner-table.
"I found her sleeping, papa, and thought it best not to wake her;" Elsieanswered. "I think she does not look quite well, and that sleep will doher more good than anything else."
Zoe slept most of the afternoon, woke apparently more cheerful, and atewith seeming enjoyment the delicate lunch presently brought her by Elsie'sorders; but she steadily declined to join the family at tea or in theparlor.
She would much rather stay where she was for the rest of the day, shesaid, as she felt dull and her head still ached a little.
Every one felt concerned about, and disposed to be as kind to her aspossible. Mrs. Dinsmore, Elsie, Violet, and Rosie all came in in thecourse of the afternoon and evening to ask how she did, and express thehope that she would soon be quite well again, and to try to cheer her up.
They offered her companionship through the night; any one of them wouldwillingly sleep with her; but she said she was not timid and would preferto remain alone.
"Well, dear, I should feel a trifle easier not to have you alone," Elsiesaid, as she bade her good-night, "but we will not force our company uponyou. None of us lock our doors at night, and my rooms are not far away;don't hesitate to wake me, if you feel uneasy or want anything in thenight."
"Thank you, dear mamma," returned Zoe, putting her arms about her mother'sneck; "you are so good and kind! such a dear mother to me! I will do asyou say; if I feel at all timid in the night I shall run to your rooms andcreep into bed with you."
So they all left her, and the house grew silent and still.
It was the first night since her marriage that her husband had not beenwith her, and she missed him more than ever. Besides, through the day shehad been buoyed up in a measure by the hope that he would send her anote, a telegram, or some sort of message.
He had not done so, and the conviction that she had quite alienated himfrom her grew stronger and stronger.
Again she indulged in bitter weeping, wetting her pillow with her tears asshe vainly courted sleep.
"He hates me now, I know he does, and will never love me again," sherepeated to herself. "I wish I didn't love him so. Ho said he was sorry hecouldn't give me my liberty, but I don't want it; but he wants to be ridof me, or he would never have said that; and how unhappy he must be, andwill be all his life, tied to a wife he hates.
"I won't stay here to be a burden and torment to him!" she cried, startingup with sudden determination and energy. "I love him so dearly that I'lldeliver him from that, even though it will break my heart; for oh, how_can_ I live without him!"
She considered a moment, and (foolish child) thought it would be an act ofnoble self-sacrifice, and also very romantic, to run away and die of abroken heart, in order to relieve her husband of the burden and tormentshe chose to imagine that he considered
her.
A folly that was partly the effect of too much reading of sensationalnovels, partly of physical ailment, for she was really feverish and ill.
She did not pause to decide where she would go, or to reflect how shecould support herself. Were not all places alike away from the one she sodearly loved? and as to support she had a little money, and would not belikely to live long enough to need more.
Perhaps Edward would search for her from a sense of duty--she knew he wasvery conscientious--but she would manage so that he would never be able tofind her; she would go under an assumed name; she would call herself Miss,and no one would suspect her of being a married woman running away fromher husband. Ah, it was not altogether a disadvantage to be and look soyoung!
And when she should find herself dying, or so near it that there would notbe time to send for Edward, she would tell some one who she really was,and ask that a letter should be written to him telling of her death, sothat he would know he wus free to marry again.
Marry again! The thought of that shook her resolution for a moment. It wastorture to imagine the love and caresses that had been hers lavished uponanother woman.
But, perhaps, after his unhappy experience of married life, he wouldchoose to live single the rest of his days. He had his mother and sistersto love, and could be happy without a wife.
Besides, she had read somewhere that though love was everything to awoman, men were different and could do quite well without it.
She went into the dressing-room, turned up the night lamp, and looked ather watch.
It was one o'clock. At two a stage passed northward along a road on thefarther side of Fairview. She could easily make her few preparations inhalf an hour, walk to the nearest point on the route of the stage in timeto stop it and get in, then while journeying on, decide what her next stepshould be.
She packed a hand-bag with such things as she deemed most essential,arrayed herself in a plain, dark woollen dress, with hat, veil, and glovesto match, threw a shawl over her arm, and was just turning to go, when athought struck her.
"I ought to leave a note, of course; they always do."
Sitting down at her writing-desk, she directed an envelope to her husband,then wrote on a card:
"I am going away never to come back. Don't look for me, for it will be quite useless, as I shall manage so that you can never trace me. It breaks my heart to leave you, my dear dear husband, for I love you better than life, but I know I have lost your love, and I want to rid you of the burden and annoyance of a hated wife. So, farewell forever in this world, and nay you be very happy all your days.
"ZOE."
Her tears fell fast as she wrote; she had to wipe them away again andagain, and the card was so blotted and blistered by them that some of thewords were scarcely legible, but there was not time to write another; soshe put it in the envelope and laid it on the toilet table, where it wouldbe sure to catch his eye.
Then taking up her shawl and satchel, she sent one tearful farewell glancearound the room, and stole noiselessly down-stairs and out of the house bya side door. It caught her dress in closing, but she was unaware of thatfor a moment, as she stood still on the step, remembering with a suddenpang, that was more than half regret, that the deed was done beyondrecall, for the dead-latch was down, and she had no key with which toeffect an entrance; she must go on now, whether she would or not.
She took a step forward, and found she was last; she could neither go onnor retreat. Oh, dreadful to be caught there and her scheme at the sametime baffled and revealed!
All at once she saw it in a new light. "Oh, how angry, how very angryEdward would be! What would he do and say to her? Certainly, she had givenhim sufficient reason to deem it necessary to lock her up; for what righthad she to go away to stay without his knowledge and consent? she who hadtaken a solemn vow--in the presence of her dying father, too--to love,honor and obey him as long as they both should live. Oh, it would be toodisgraceful to be caught so!"
She exerted all her strength in the effort to wrench herself free, even atthe cost of tearing the dress and being obliged to travel with itunrepaired; but in vain; the material was too strong to give way, and shesank down on the step in a state of pitiable fright and despair.
She heard the clock in the hall strike two. Even the servants would not bestirring before five; so she had at least three hours to sit there aloneand exposed to danger from tramps, thieves, and burglars, if any shouldhappen to come about.
And oh, the miserable prospect before her when this trying vigil should beover. How grieved mamma would be! dear mamma, whom she loved with truedaughterly affection; how stern and angry Grandpa Dinsmore, how astonishedand displeased all the others; how wicked and supremely silly they wouldthink her.
Perhaps she could bribe the servants to keep her secret (her dress, hertravelling bag and the early hour would reveal something of its nature),and gain her rooms again without being seen by any of the family; but thenher life would be one of constant terror of discovery.
Should she try that course, or the more straightforward one of notattempting any concealment?
She was still debating this question in her mind, when her heart almostflew into her mouth at the sound of a man's step approaching on the gravelwalk. It drew nearer, nearer, came close to her side, and with a cry ofterror she fell in a little heap on the doorstep in a dead faint.
He uttered a low exclamation of astonishment, stooped over her, andpushing aside her veil so that the moonlight shone full upon her face,"Zoe!" he said, "is it possible! What can have brought you here at thishour of the night?"
He paused for an answer, but none came; then bending lower and perceivingthat she was quite unconscious, also fast, he took a key from his pocketand opened the door.
He bent over her again, taking note of her dress and the travelling bag byher side.
"Running away, evidently! could any one have conceived the possibility ofher doing so crazy a thing!" he muttered, as he took her in his arms.
Then a dark thought crossed his mind, but he put it determinately fromhim.
"No; I will not, cannot think it! She is pure, guileless, and innocent asan infant."
He stooped again, picked up the bag, closed the door softly, and carriedher up-stairs--treading with caution lest a stumble or the sound of hisfootsteps should arouse some one and lead to the discovery of what wasgoing on; yet with as great celerity as consistent with that caution,fearing consciousness might return too soon for the preservation of thesecrecy he desired.
But it did not; she was still insensible when he laid her down on a couchin her boudoir.
He took off her hat and veil, threw them aside, loosened her dress, openeda window to give her air, then went into the dressing-room for the nightlamp usually kept burning there.
As he turned it up, his eye fell upon Zoe's note.
He knew her handwriting instantly.
"Here is the explanation," was the thought that flashed into his mind, andsnatching it up, he tore open the envelope, held the card near the lightand read what her fingers had traced scarcely an hour ago.
His eyes filled as he read, and two great drops fell as he laid it down.
He picked up the lamp and hastened back to her.
As he drew near she opened her eyes, sent one frightened glance round theroom and up into his pale, troubled face, then covering hers with herhands, burst into hysterical weeping.
He set down the lamp, knelt by her sofa and gathered her in his arms,resting her head against his breast.
"Zoe, my little Zoe, my own dear wife!" he said in faltering accents,"have I really been so cruel that you despair of my love? Why, my darling,no greater calamity than your loss could possibly befall me. I love youdearly, dearly! better far than I did when I asked you to be mine--when wegave ourselves to each other."
"Oh, is it true? do you really love me yet in spite of all my jealousy andwilfulness, and--and--
oh, I have been very bad and ungrateful andtroublesome!" she sobbed, clinging about his neck.
"And I have been too dictatorial and stern," he said, kissing her againand again. "I have not had the patience I ought to have had with my littlegirl-wife, have not been so forbearing and kind as I meant to be."
"Indeed, you have been very patient and forbearing," she returned, "andwould never have been cross to me if I hadn't provoked you beyondendurance. I have been very bad to you, dear Ned, but if you'll keep meand love me I'll try to behave better."
"I'll do both," he said, holding her closer and repeating his caresses.
"Oh, I'm so glad, so glad!" she cried, with the tears running over hercheeks, "so glad I have to weep for joy. And I've been breaking my heartsince you went away and left me in anger and without one word of good-by."
"My poor darling, it was too cruel," he sighed; "but I found I could notstand it any more than you, so had to come back to make it up with you.And I frightened you terribly down there at the door, did I not?"
"O Ned," she murmured, hiding her blushing face on his breast, "how verygood you are to be so loving and kind when you have a right to be angryand stern with me. You haven't even asked me what I was doing down therein the night."
"Your note explained that," he said in moved tones, thinking how greatmust have been the distress that led to such an act, "and I fear I am asdeserving of reproof as yourself."
"Then you will forgive me?" she asked humbly. "I thought I had a right togo away, thinking it would make you happier, but now I know I hadn't,because I had promised myself to you for all my life."
"No; neither of us has a right to forsake the other (we 'are no more twainbut one flesh. What, therefore, God hath joined together, let no man putasunder'); we are husband and wife for as long as we both shall live, andmust dwell together in mutual love and forbearance. We will exchangeforgiveness, dearest, for we have both been to blame, and I forgive yourattempt of to-night on condition that you promise me never, never to dosuch a thing again."
"I promise," she said, "and," imploringly, "O Ned, won't you keep mysecret? I couldn't bear to have it known even in the family."
"No more could I, love," he answered; "and oh, but I am thankful that youwere caught by the door and so prevented from carrying out your purpose!"
"So am I, and that it was my own dear husband, and not a burglar, as Ifeared, who found me there."
"Ah, was that the cause of your fright?" he asked, with a look of reliefand pleasure. "I thought it was your terror of your husband's wrath thatcaused your faint. But, darling, you are looking weary and actually ill.You must go to bed at once."
"I'll obey you, this time and always," she answered, looking up fondlyinto his face. "I am convinced now that I am only a foolish child in needof guidance and control, and who should provide them but you? I couldhardly stand it from anybody else--unless mamma--but I'm sure that infuture it will be a pleasure to take it from my own dear husband if--ifonly----" she paused, blushing and hiding her face on his breast.
"If what, love?"
"If only instead of 'You must and shall,' you will say kindly, 'I want youto do it to please me, Zoe.'"
"Sweet one," he answered, holding her to his heart, "I do fully intendthat it shall be always love and coaxing after this."
Elsie's New Relations Page 21
