The Sword of Damocles Part 29

"You will! Has heaven then sent me the aid my failing spirits demand?

Can I count on you, child? But I will ask for no promise till you have heard my story. To no one have I ever imparted the secret of my life, but from the first moment I saw your fair young face, I felt that through you would come my help, if help ever came to make my final moments easier and my last days less bitter." And rising up, she led Paula to a door which she solemnly opened. "I am glad that you are here," said she. "I could never have asked you to come, but since you have braved the dead and crossed this threshold, you must see and know the whole. You will understand my story better."

Taking her through a dark pa.s.sage, she threw wide another door, and the parlors of the vanished j.a.phas opened before them. It was a ghostly vision. A weird twilight scene of cl.u.s.tered shadows brooding above articles of musty grandeur. In spite of the self-command learned by her late experiences, Paula recoiled, saying,

"It is too sad, too lonesome!" But the woman without heeding her, hurried her on over the worm-eaten carpet and between the time-worn chairs and heavy-browed cabinets, to the hall beyond.

"I have not been here, myself, for a year," said Mrs. Hamlin, glancing fearfully up and down the dusky corridor. "It is not often I can brave the memories of this spot." And she pointed with one hand towards the darkened door at its end, whose s.p.a.cious if not stately panels gave no hint to the eye of the dread bar that crossed it like a line of doom upon the outside, and then turning, let her eye fall with still heavier significance upon the broad and imposing staircase that rose from the centre of the hall to the duskier and more dismal regions above.

"A brave, old fas.h.i.+oned flight of steps is it not! But the scene of a curse, my child." And unheeding Paula's shudder, she drew her up the stairs.

"See," continued her panting guide as they reached a square platform near the top, from which some half dozen or more steps branched up on either side. "They do not build like this nowadays. But Colonel j.a.pha believed in nothing new, and thought more of his grand old hall and staircase, than he did of all the rest of his house. He little dreamed of what a scene it would be the witness. But come, it is getting late and you must see her room."

It was near the top of the staircase and was fully as musty, faded and dismal as the rest. Yet there was an air of expectancy about it, too, that touched Paula deeply. From between the dingy hangings of the bed, looked forth a pair of downy pillows, edged with yellowed lace, and beneath them a neatly spread counterpane carefully turned back over comfortable-looking blankets, as one sees in a bed that only awaits its occupant; while on the ancient hearth, a pile of logs stood heaped and ready for the kindling match.

"It is all waiting you see," said the old lady in a trembling voice, "like everything else, just waiting."

There was an embroidery frame in one corner of the room, from which looked a piece of faded and half completed work. The needle was hanging from it by a thread, and a skein of green worsted hung over the top, Paula glanced at it inquiringly.

"It is just as she left it! He never entered the room after she went and I would never let it be touched. It is just the same with the piano below. The last piece she played is still standing open on the rack. I loved her so, and I thought then that a few months would bring her back!

See, here is her bible. She never used to read it, but she prized it because it was her mother's. I have placed it on the pillow where she will see it when she comes to lay her poor tired head down to rest." And with a reverent hand the aged matron drew the curtains back from the open bed, and disclosed the little bible lying thick with dust in the centre of the nearest pillow.

"O who was this you loved so well? And why did she leave you?" cried Paula with the tears in her eyes, at sight of this humble token.

The aged lady seized her hand and hurried her back into the room below.

"I will tell you where I have waited and watched so long. Only be patient till I light the lamp. It is getting late and any chance wanderer going by and seeing all dark, might think I had forgotten my promise and was not here."

XXV.

JACQUELINE.

"The cold in clime are cold in blood, And love as scarce deserves the name, But mine is like the lava flood That burns in Etna's breast of flame."

--BYRON.

"There are some men that have the appearance of being devoid of family affection, who in reality cherish it in the deepest and most pa.s.sionate degree. Such a man was Colonel j.a.pha. You have doubtless heard from your cradle what the neighbors thought of this stately, old fas.h.i.+oned gentleman. He was too handsome in his youth, too proudly reticent in his manhood, too self-contained and unrelenting in his age, not to be the talk of any town that numbered him among its inhabitants. But only from myself, a relative of the family and his housekeeper for years, can you learn with what undeviating faith and love he clung to the few upon whom he allowed his heart to fasten in affection. When he married Miss Carey, the world said, 'He has chosen a beauty, because fine manners and a pretty face look well behind the j.a.pha coffee-urn!' But we, that is, this same young wife and myself, knew that in marrying her he had taken unto himself his other half, the one sweet woman for whom his proud heart could beat and before whom his stately head could bow. When she died, the world exclaimed, 'He will soon fill her place!' But I who watched the last look that pa.s.sed between them in the valley of the shadow of that death, knew that the years would come and the years would go without seeing Colonel j.a.pha marry again.

"The little babe whom she left to his care, took all the love which he had left. From the moment it began to speak, he centered in its tiny life all the hope and all the pride of his solitary heart. And the j.a.pha pride was nearly as great as the j.a.pha heart. She was a pretty child; not a beauty like her mother or like you, my dear, who however so nearly resemble her. But for all that, pretty enough to satisfy the eyes of her secretly doting father, and her openly doting nurse and cousin. I say secretly doting father. I do not mean by that that he regarded her with an affection which he never displayed, but that it was his way to lavish his caresses at home and in the privacy of her little nursery. He never made a parade of anything but his pride. If he loved her, it was enough for her to know it. In the street and the houses of their friends, he was the strict, somewhat severe father, to whom her childish eyes lifted at first with awe, but afterwards with a quiet defiance, that when I first saw it, made my heart stand still with unreasoning alarm.

"She was so reserved a child and yet so deeply pa.s.sionate. From the beginning I felt that I did not understand her. I loved her; I have never loved any mortal as I did her--and do; but I could not follow her impulses or judge of her feelings by her looks.

"When she grew older it was still worse. She never contradicted her father, or appeared in any open way to disobey his commands, or thwart him in his plans. Yet she always did what she pleased, and that so quietly, he frequently did not observe that matters had taken any other direction, than that which he had himself ordained. 'It is her mother's tact,' he used to say. Alas it was something more than that; it was her father's will united to the unscrupulousness of some forgotten ancestor.

"But with the glamour of her eighteen years upon me, I did not recognize this then, any more than he. I saw her through the magic gla.s.ses of my own absorbing love, and tremble as I frequently would in the still scorn of her unfathomable pa.s.sion, I never dreamed she could do anything that would seriously offend her father's affection or mortify his pride. The truth is, that Jacqueline did not love us. Say what you will of the claims of kindred, and the right of every father to his childrens'

regard, Jacqueline j.a.pha accepted the devotion that was lavished upon her, but she gave none in return. She could not, perhaps. Her father was too cold in public and too warm in his home-bursts of affection. I was plain and a widow; no mate for her in age, condition or estate. She could neither look up to me nor lean upon me. I had been her nurse in childhood and though a relative, was still a dependent; what was there in all that to love! If her mother had lived--But we will not dwell on possibilities. Jacqueline had no mother and no friend that was dear enough to her, to teach her unwilling soul the great lesson of self-control and sacrifice.

"You will say that is strange. That situated as she was, she ought to have found friends both dear and congenial; but that would be to declare that Jacqueline was like others of her age and cla.s.s, whereas she was single and alone; a dark-browed girl, who allured the gaze of both men and women, but who cared but little for any one till--But wait, child. I shall have to speak of matters that will cause your cheeks to blush. Lay your head down on my knee, for I cannot bear the sight of blushes upon a cheek more innocent than hers."

With a gentle movement she urged Paula to sit upon a little stool at her feet, pressed the young girl's head down upon her lap, and burying the lovely 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 us from a visit she had been making in Boston, I perceived that something had 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 pay his 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, when the 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 chair by the table. At the name, Holt, the girl rose as if it had suddenly thundered, or the lightning had flashed. I see her now. She was dressed in white--though it was early fall she still clung to her summer dresses--her dark hair was piled high, and caught here and there with old-fas.h.i.+oned gold pins, a splendid red rose burned on her bosom, and another flashed crimson as blood from her folded hands.

"'Holt?' repeated the Colonel without turning his head, 'I know no such man.'

"'He said he wished to see Miss Jacqueline,' simpered the servant.

"'Oh,' returned the Colonel indifferently. He never showed surprise before the servants--and went on with his book, still without turning his head.

"I thought if he had turned it, he would scarcely sit there reading so quietly; for Jacqueline who had not stirred from her alert and upright position, was looking at him in a way no father, least of all a father who 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 inconsiderate move, in order to spring. It was wild unconstrainable joy, eying a possible 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 white fingers, where they unconsciously clutched a thorn, and drop dark and disfiguring upon her virgin garments. At the indifferent exclamation of her father, her features relaxed, and she turned haughtily towards the girl, with a veiling of her secret delight that already bespoke the woman of the world.

"'Tell Mr. Holt that I will see him presently,' said she, and was about to 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 the ominous 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 meddle with roses.' But I noticed she did not toss the blossom away.

"'Who is this Mr. Holt?' now asked the Colonel suddenly turning, the servant having left the room.

"'He is a gentleman I met in Boston,' came from his daughter's lips, in her usual light and easy tones. 'He is probably pa.s.sing through our town on his way to Providence, where I was told he did business. His call is no more than a formality, I presume.' And with an indifferent little smile and nod, she vanished from the room, that a moment before had been filled with the threat of her silent pa.s.sion. The Colonel gave a short sigh but returned undisturbed to his book.

"In the course of a few minutes Jacqueline came back. She had changed her dress for one as summerlike as the other, but still finer and more elaborate. She looked elegant, imperious, but the joy had died out from her eyes, and in its place was another expression incomprehensible to me, but fully as alarming as any that had gone before. 'Mr. Holt finds himself obliged to remain in town over night, and would like to pay his respects to you,' said she to her father.

"The Colonel immediately rose, looking very grand as he turned and surveyed his daughter with his clear penetrating eye.'

"'You have a lover, have you not?' he asked, laying his hand on her bare and beautifully polished shoulder.

"An odd little smile crossed her lip. She looked at her hands on which never a ring shone, and coquettishly tossed her head. 'Let the gentleman speak for himself,' said she, 'I give no man his t.i.tle until he has earned it.'

"Her father laughed. A lover was not such a dreadful thing in his eyes provided he were worthy. And Jacqueline would not choose unworthily of course--a j.a.pha and his daughter! 'Well then,' said he, 'let us see if he can make good his t.i.tle; Holt is not a bad name and Boston is not a poor place to hail from.' And without more ado, they hurried from the room. 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 t.i.tle good.

I was not only favorably impressed with him but actually struck. Of all the high-bred, clear-eyed, polished and kindly gentlemen who had sat about the board since I first came into the family in Mrs. j.a.pha's lifetime, here was surely the finest, the handsomest and the best; and surprised in more ways than one, I was giving full play to my relief and exhilaration, when I caught sight of Jacqueline's eye, and felt again the cold shudders of secret doubt and apprehension. Smile upon him as she would, coquet with him as she did, the flame and the glory that drew her like an inspiration to her feet when his name was announced, had fled, and left not a shadow behind. Had he failed in his expressions of devotion? Was he hard or cold or severe, under all that pleasant and charming manner? Had the hot soul of our motherless child rushed upon ice, and in the shock of the dreadful chill, fallen inert? No, his looks bespake no coldness; they dwelt upon Jacqueline's lovely but inscrutable face, with honest fervor and boundless regard. He evidently loved her most pa.s.sionately, but she--if it had not been for that first moment of unconscious betrayal, I should have decided that she cared for him no more than she did for the few others who had adored her, in the short s.p.a.ce of her incomprehensible life.

"The mystery was not cleared up when she came to me that night with a short, 'How do you like my lover, Margery?' I was forty years her senior, but she always called me Margery.

"'I think he is the finest, most agreeable man I ever met,' said I. 'Is he 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.