Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 14 (26 page)

 
          
"No,
I will not! Only love me, and I can forgive, forget, and still be happy!"

 
          
Pauline
was right. The spaniel-like nature still loved the hand that struck it, and
Mrs. Redmond joyfully returned to the arms from which she had so lately fled.
The tenderest welcome she had ever received from him welcomed the loving soul
whose faith was not yet dead, for Gilbert felt the value this once neglected
possession had suddenly acquired, and he held it close; yet as he soothed with
gentle touch and tone, could not forbear a glance of triumph at the spectators
of the scene.

 
          
Pauline
met it with that inscrutable smile of hers, and a look of intelligence toward
her husband, as she said, "Did I not prophesy truly, Manuel? Be kind to
her, Gilbert, and when next we meet show us a happier wife than the one now
sobbing on your shoulder. Babie, good night and farewell, for we are off to the
mountains in the morning."

 
          
"Oh,
let us go with you as you promised! You know our
secret,
you pity me and will help Gilbert to be what he should. I cannot live at home,
and places like this will seem so desolate when you and Manuel are gone. May
we, can we be with you a little longer?"

 
          
"If
Gilbert wishes it and Manuel consents, we will bear and forbear much for your
sake, my poor child."

 
          
Pauline's
eye said, "Dare you go?" and Gilbert's answered, "Yes," as
the two met with a somber fire in each; but his lips replied, "Anywhere
with you, Babie," and Manuel took Mrs. Redmond's hand with a graceful
warmth that touched her deeper than his words.

 
          
"Your
example teaches me the beauty of compassion, and Pauline's friends are
mine."

 
          
"Always so kind to me!
Dear Manuel, I never can forget
it, though I have nothing to return but this," and, like a grateful child,
she lifted up her innocent face so wistfully he could only bend his tall head
to receive the kiss she offered.

 
          
Gilbert's
black brows lowered ominously at the sight, but he never spoke; and, when her
good-nights were over, bowed silently and carried his little wife away,
nestling to him as if all griefs and pains were banished by returning love.

 
          
"Poor little heart!
She should have a smoother path to
tread. Heaven grant she may hereafter; and this sudden penitence prove no
sham." Manuel paused suddenly, for as if obeying an unconquerable impulse,
Pauline laid a hand on either shoulder and searched his face with an expression
which baffled his comprehension, though he bore it steadily till her eyes fell
before his own, when he asked smilingly:

 
          
"Is
the doubt destroyed, cariña?"

 
          
"No;
it is laid asleep."

 
          
Then
as he drew her nearer, as if to make his peace for his unknown offense, she
turned her cheek away and left him silently. Did she fear to find Babie's kiss
upon his lips?

 
          
The
work of weeks is soon recorded, and when another month was gone these were the
changes it had wrought. The four so strangely bound together by ties of
suffering and sin went on their way, to the world's eye, blessed with every
gracious gift, but below the tranquil surface rolled that undercurrent whose
mysterious tides ebb and flow in human hearts unfettered by race or rank or
time. Gilbert was a good actor, but, though he curbed his fitful temper,
smoothed his mien, and sweetened his manner, his wife soon felt the vanity of
hoping to recover that which never had been hers. Silently she accepted the
fact and, uttering no complaint, turned to others for the fostering warmth
without which she could not live. Conscious of a hunger like her own, Manuel
could offer her sincerest sympathy, and soon learned to find a troubled
pleasure in the knowledge that she loved him and her husband knew it, for his
life of the emotions was rapidly maturing the boy into the man, as the fierce ardors
of his native skies quicken the growth of wondrous plants that blossom in a
night. Mrs. Redmond, as young in character as in years, felt the attraction of
a nature generous and sweet, and yielded to it as involuntarily as an
unsupported vine yields to the wind that blows it to the strong arms of a tree,
still unconscious that a warmer sentiment than gratitude made his companionship
the sunshine of her life. Pauline saw this, and sometimes owned within herself
that she had evoked spirits which she could not rule, but her purpose drove her
on, and in it she found a charm more perilously potent than before. Gilbert
watched the three with a smile darker than a frown, yet no reproach warned his
wife of the danger which she did not see; no jealous demonstration roused
Manuel to rebel against the oppression of a presence so distasteful to him; no
rash act or word gave Pauline power to banish him, though the one desire of his
soul became the discovery of the key to the inscrutable expression of her eyes
as they followed the young pair, whose growing friendship left their mates
alone. Slowly her manner softened toward him, pity seemed to bridge across the
gulf that lay between them, and in rare
moments
time
appeared to have retraced its steps, leaving the tender woman of a year ago.
Nourished by such unexpected hope, the early passion throve and strengthened
until it became the mastering ambition of his life, and, only pausing to make
assurance doubly sure, he waited the advent of the hour when he could "put
his fortune to the touch and win or lose it all."

 
          
"Manuel,
are you coming?"

 
          
He
was lying on the sward at Mrs. Redmond's feet, and, waking from the reverie
that held him, while his companion sang the love lay he was teaching her, he
looked up to see his wife standing on the green slope before him. A black lace
scarf lay over her blonde hair as Spanish women wear their veils, below it the
violet eyes shone clear, the cheek glowed with the color fresh winds had blown
upon their paleness, the lips parted with a wistful smile, and a knot of
bright-hued leaves upon her bosom made a mingling of snow and fire in the
dress, whose white folds swept the grass. Against a background of hoary cliffs
and somber pines, this figure stood out like a picture of blooming womanhood,
but Manuel saw three blemishes upon it—Gilbert had sketched her with that
shadowy veil upon her head, Gilbert had swung himself across a precipice to
reach the scarlet nosegay for her breast, Gilbert stood beside her with her
hand upon his arm; and troubled by the fear that often haunted him since
Pauline's manner to himself had grown so shy and sad, Manuel leaned and looked
forgetful of reply, but Mrs. Redmond answered blithely:

 
          
"He
is coming, but with me. You are too grave for us, so go your ways, talking
wisely of heaven and earth, while we come after, enjoying both as we gather
lichens, chase the goats, and meet you at the waterfall. Now
señor,
put away guitar and book, for I have learned my lesson; so help me with this
unruly hair of mine and leave the Spanish for today."

 
          
They
looked a pair of lovers as Manuel held back the long locks blowing in the wind,
while Babie tied her hat, still chanting the burthen of the tender song she had
caught so soon. A voiceless sigh stirred the ruddy leaves on Pauline's bosom as
she turned away, but Gilbert embodied it in words, "They are happier
without us. Let us go."

 
          
Neither
spoke till they reached the appointed tryst. The others were not there, and,
waiting for them, Pauline sat on a mossy stone, Gilbert leaned against the
granite boulder beside her, and both silently surveyed a scene that made the
heart glow, the eye kindle with delight as it swept down from that airy height,
across valleys dappled with shadow and dark with untrodden forests, up ranges
of majestic mountains, through gap after gap, each hazier than the last, far
out into that sea of blue which rolls around all the world. Behind them roared
the waterfall swollen with autumn rains and hurrying to pour itself into the
rocky basin that lay boiling below, there to leave its legacy of shattered
trees, then to dash itself into a deeper chasm, soon to be haunted by a tragic
legend and go glittering away through forest, field, and intervale to join the
river rolling slowly to the sea. Won by the beauty and the grandeur of the
scene, Pauline forgot she was not alone, till turning, she suddenly became
aware that while she scanned the face of nature her companion had been scanning
hers. What he saw there she could not tell, but all restraint had vanished from
his manner, all reticence from his speech, for with the old ardor in his eye,
the old impetuosity in his voice, he said, leaning down as if to read her
heart, "This is the moment I have waited for so long. For now you see what
I see, that both have made a bitter blunder, and may yet repair it. Those
children love each other; let them love, youth mates them, fortune makes them
equals, fate brings them together that we may be free. Accept this freedom as I
do, and come out into the world with me to lead the life you were born to
enjoy."

 
          
With
the first words he uttered Pauline felt that the time had come, and in the
drawing of a breath was ready for it, with every sense alert, every power under
full control, every feature obedient to the art which had become a second
nature. Gilbert had seized her hand, and she did not draw it back; the sudden
advent of the instant which must end her work sent an unwonted color to her
cheek, and she did avert it; the exultation which flashed into her eyes made it
unsafe to meet his own, and they drooped before him as if in shame or fear, her
whole face woke and brightened with the excitement that stirred her blood. She
did not seek to conceal it, but let him cheat himself with the belief that love
touched it with such light and warmth, as she softly answered in a voice whose
accents seemed to assure his hope.

 
          
"You
ask me to relinquish much. What do you offer in return,
Gilbert,
that
I may not for a second time find love's labor lost?"

 
          
It
was a wily speech, though sweetly spoken, for it reminded him how much he had
thrown away, how little now remained to give, but her mien inspired him, and
nothing daunted, he replied more ardently than ever:

 
          
"I
can offer you a heart always faithful in truth though not in seeming, for I
never loved that child. I would give years of happy life to undo that act and
be again the man you trusted. I can offer you a name which shall yet be an
honorable one, despite the stain an hour's madness cast upon it. You once
taunted me with cowardice because I dared not face the world and conquer it. I
dare do that now; I long to escape from this disgraceful servitude, to throw
myself into the press, to struggle and achieve for your dear sake. I can offer
you strength, energy, devotion—three gifts worthy any woman's acceptance
who
possesses power to direct, reward, and enjoy them as you
do, Pauline.
Because with your presence for my inspiration, I
feel that I can retrieve my faultful past, and with time become God's noblest
work—an honest man.
Babie never could exert this influence over me. You
can, you will, for now my earthly hope is in your hands, my soul's salvation in
your love."

 
          
If
that love had not died a sudden death, it would have risen up to answer him as
the one sincere desire of an erring life cried out to her for help, and this
man, as proud as sinful, knelt down before her with a passionate humility never
paid at any other shrine, human or divine. It seemed to melt and win her, for
he saw the color ebb and flow, heard the rapid beating of her heart, felt the
hand tremble in his own, and received no denial but a lingering doubt, whose
removal was a keen satisfaction to
himself
.

 
          
"Tell
me, before I answer, are you sure that Manuel loves Babie?"

 
          
"I
am; for every day convinces me that he has outlived the brief delusion, and
longs for liberty, but dares not ask it. Ah!
that
pricks pride! But it is so. I have watched with jealous vigilance and let no
sign escape me; because in his infidelity to you lay my
chief
hope
. Has he not grown melancholy, cold, and silent? Does he not seek
Babie and, of late, shun you? Will he not always yield his place to me without
a token of displeasure or regret? Has he ever uttered reproach, warning, or
command to you, although he knows I was and am your lover? Can you deny these
proofs, or pause to ask if he will refuse to break the tie that binds him to a
woman, whose superiority in all things keeps him a subject where he would be a
king? You do not know the heart of man if you believe he will not bless you for
his freedom."

 
          
Like
the cloud which just then swept across the valley, blotting out its sunshine
with a gloomy shadow, a troubled look flitted over Pauline's face. But if the
words woke any sleeping fear she cherished, it was peremptorily banished, for
scarcely had the watcher seen it than it was gone. Her eyes still shone upon
the ground, and still she prolonged the bittersweet delight at seeing this
humiliation of both soul and body by asking the one question whose reply would
complete her sad success.

 
          
"Gilbert,
do you believe I love you still?"

 
          
"I
know it! Can I not read the signs that proved it to me once? Can I forget that,
though you followed me to pity and despise, you have remained to pardon and
befriend? Am I not sure that no other power could work the change you have
wrought in me? I was learning to be content with slavery, and slowly sinking
into that indolence of will which makes submission easy. I was learning to
forget you, and be resigned to hold the shadow when the substance was gone, but
you came, and with a look undid my work, with a word destroyed my hard-won
peace, with a touch roused the passion which was not dead but sleeping, and
have made this month of growing certainty to be the sweetest in my life—for I
believed all lost, and you showed me that all was won. Surely that smile is
propitious!
and
I may hope to hear the happy
confirmation of my faith from lips that were formed to say 'I love!'"

 
          
She
looked up then, and her eyes burned on him, with an expression which made his
heart leap with expectant joy, as over cheek and forehead spread a glow of
womanly emotion too genuine to be feigned, and her voice thrilled with the
fervor of that sentiment which blesses life and outlives death.

 
          
"Yes,
I love; not as of old, with a girl's blind infatuation, but with the warmth and
wisdom of heart, mind, and soul—love made up of honor, penitence and trust,
nourished in secret by the better self which lingers in the most tried and
tempted of us, and now ready to blossom and bear fruit, if God so wills. I have
been once deceived, but faith still endures, and I believe that I may yet earn
this crowning gift of a woman's life for the man who shall make my happiness as
I make his—who shall find me the prouder for past coldness, the humbler for
past pride—whose life shall pass serenely loving. And that beloved is—my
husband." If she had lifted her white hand and stabbed him, with that
smile upon her face, it would not have shocked him with a more pale dismay than
did those two words as Pauline shook him off and rose up, beautiful and stern
as an avenging angel. Dumb with
an amazement
too
fathomless for words, he knelt there motionless and aghast. She did not speak.
And, passing his hand across his eyes as if he felt himself the prey to some
delusion, he rose slowly, asking, half incredulously, half imploringly,
"Pauline, this is a jest?"

 
          
"To
me it is; to you—a bitter earnest."

 
          
A
dim foreboding of the truth fell on him
then,
and with
it a strange sense of fear; for in this apparition of human judgment he seemed
to receive a premonition of the divine. With a sudden gesture of something like
entreaty, he cried out, as if his fate lay in her hands, "How will it end?
how
will it end?"