Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 20 (10 page)

 
          
The
events of that night made a deep impression on me, for from that night my life
was changed. Agatha left me entirely free, never asked my presence,
never
upbraided me for long absences or silences when
together. She seemed to find happiness in her belief that she should yet subdue
me, and though I smiled at this in my indifference, there was something half
pleasant, half pathetic in the thought of this proud woman leaving all warmer
affections for my negligent friendship, the sight of this young wife laboring
to win her husband’s heart. At first I tried to be all she asked, but soon
relapsed into my former life, and finding no reproaches followed, believed I
should enjoy it as never before — but I did not. As weeks passed I slowly
became conscious that some new power had taken possession of me, swaying my
whole nature to its will; a power alien yet sovereign. Fitfully it worked,
coming upon me when least desired, enforcing its commands regardless of time,
place or mood; mysterious yet irresistible in its strength, this mental tyrant
led me at all hours, in all stages of anxiety, repugnance and rebellion, from
all pleasures or employments, straight to Agatha. If I sat at my easel the
sudden summons came, and wondering at myself I obeyed it, to find her busied in
some cheerful occupation, with apparently no thought or wish for me. If I left
home I often paused abruptly in my walk or drive, turned and hurried back,
simply because I could not resist the impulse that controlled me. If she went
away I seldom failed to follow, and found no peace till I was at her side
again. I grew moody and restless, slept ill, dreamed wild dreams, and often
woke and wandered aimlessly, as if sent upon an unknown errand. I could not fix
my mind upon my work; a spell seemed to have benumbed imagination and robbed
both brain and hand of power to conceive and skill to execute.

 
          
At
first I fancied this was only the reaction of entire freedom after long
captivity, but I soon found I was bound to a more exacting mistress than my
wife had ever been. Then I suspected that it was only the perversity of human
nature, and that having gained my wish it grew valueless, and I longed for that
which I had lost; but it was not this, for distasteful as my present life had
become, the other seemed still more so when I recalled it. For a time I
believed that Agatha might be right, that
1
was really learning to love
her, and this unquiet mood was the awakening of that passion which comes swift
and strong when it comes to such as
I
. If I had never
loved I might have clung to this belief, but the memory of that earlier
affection, so genial, entire and sweet, proved that the present fancy was only
a delusion; for searching deeply into myself to discover the truth of this, I
found that Agatha was no dearer, and to mv own dismay detected a covert dread
lurking there, harmless and vague, but threatening to deepen into aversion or
resentment for some unknown offence; and while I accused myself of an unjust
and ungenerous weakness, I shrank from the thought of her, even while I sought
her with the assiduity but not the ardor of a lover.

 
          
Long
I pondered over this inexplicable state of mind, but found no solution of it;
for I would not own, either to myself or Agatha, that the shadow of her
prophecy had come to pass, though its substance was still wanting. She
sometimes looked inquiringly into my face with those strange eves of hers,
sometimes chid me with a mocking smile when she found me sitting idlv before mv
easel w ithout a line or tint given though hours had passed; and often, when
driven by that blind impulse I sought her anxiously among her friends, she
would glance at those about her, saving, with a touch of triumph in her mien,
“Am I not an enviable wife to have inspired such devotion in this grave
husband?” Once, remembering her former words, I asked her playfully if she
still “sent her love to find and bring me home?” but she only shook her head
and answered, sadly,

 
          
“Oh,
no; my love was burdensome to you, so I have rocked it to sleep and laid it
where it w ill not trouble you again.”

 
          
At
last I decided that some undetected physical infirmity caused mv disquiet, for
years of labor and privation might w ell have worn the delicate machinery of
heart or brain, and this warning suggested the wisdom of consulting medical skill
in time. This thought grew as month after month increased mv mental malady and
began to tell upon mv hitherto unbroken health. I wondered if Agatha knew how
listless, hollow-eyed and wan I had grown; but she never spoke of it, and an
unconquerable reserve kept me from uttering a complaint to her.

 
          
One
day I resolved to bear it no longer, and hurried away to an old friend in whose
skill and discretion I had entire faith. He was out, and while I waited I took
up a book that lay among the medical works upon his table. I read a page, then
a chapter, turning leaf after leaf with a rapid hand, devouring paragraph after
paragraph with an eager eye. An hour passed, still I read on. Dr.
L---------------- did not come, but I did not think of that, and when I laid down
the book I no longer needed him, for in that hour I had discovered a new world,
had seen the diagnosis of my symptoms set forth in unmistakable terms, and
found the key to the mystery in the one word — Magnetism. This was years ago,
before spirits had begun their labors for good or ill, before ether and hashish
had gifted humanity with eternities of bliss in a second, and while Mesmer’s
mystical discoveries were studied only by the scientific or philosophical few.
I knew nothing of these things, for my whole life had led another way, and no
child could be more ignorant of the workings or extent of this wonderful power.
There was Indian blood in my veins, and superstition lurked there still;
consequently the knowledge that I was a victim of this occult magic came upon
me like an awful revelation, and filled me with a storm of wrath, disgust and
dread.

 
          
Like
an enchanted spirit who has found the incantation that will free it from
subjection, I rejoiced with a grim satisfaction even while I cursed myself for
my long blindness, and with no thought for anything but instant accusation on
my part, instant confession and atonement on hers, I went straight home,
straight into Agatha’s presence, and there, in words as brief as bitter, told
her that her reign was over. All that was sternest, hottest and most
unforgiving ruled me then, and like fire to fire roused a. spirit equally
strong and high. I might have subdued her by juster and more generous words,
but remembering the humiliation of my secret slavery I forgot my own offence in
hers, and set no curb on tongue or temper, letting the storm she had raised
fall upon her with the suddenness of an unwonted, unexpected outburst.

 
          
As
I spoke her face changed from its first dismay to a defiant calmness that made
it hard as rock and cold as ice, while all expression seemed concentrated in
her eye, which burned on me with an unwavering light. There was no excitement
in her manner, no sign of fear, or shame, or grief in her mien, and when she
answered me her voice was untremulous and clear as when I heard it first.

 
          
“Have
you done? Then hear me: I knew you long before you dreamed that such a woman as
Agatha Kure existed. I was solitary, and longed to be sincerely loved. 1 was
rich, yet I could not buy what is unpurchasable; I was young, yet I could not
make my youth sweet with affection; for nowhere did I see the friend whose
nature was akin to mine until you passed before me, and I felt at once, ‘There
is the one I seek!’ I never yet desired that I did not possess the coveted
object, and believed I should not fail now. Years ago I learned the mysterious
gift I was endowed with, and fostered it; for, unblessed with beauty, I hoped
its silent magic might draw others near enough to see, under this cold
exterior, the woman’s nature waiting there. The first night you saw me I
yielded to an irresistible longing to attract your eye, and for a moment sec
the face
1
had learned to love looking into mine. You know how well I
succeeded — you know your own lips asked the favor I was so glad to give, and
your own will led you to me. That day I made another trial of my skill and
succeeded beyond my hopes, but dared not repeat it, for your strong nature was
not easily subdued, it was too perilous a game for me to plav, and I resolved
that no delusion should make you mine. I would have a free gift or none. You
offered me your hand, and believing that it held a loving heart, I took it, to
find that heart barred against me, and another woman’s name engraved upon its
door. Was this a glad discovery for a wife to make? Do you wonder she
reproached you when she saw her hopes turn to ashes, and could no longer
conceal from herself that she was only a stepping-stone to lift an ambitious
man to a position which she could not share? You think me weak and wicked; look
back upon the year nearly done and ask yourself if many young wives have such a
record of neglect, despised love, unavailing sacrifices, long suffering
patience and deepening despair? 1 had been reading the tear-stained pages of
this record when you bid me win you if I could; and with a bitter sense of the
fitness of such a punishment, I resolved to do it, still cherishing a hope that
some spark of affection might be found. I soon saw the vanity of such a hope,
and this hard truth goaded me to redouble my efforts till I had entirely
subjugated that arrogant spirit of yours, and made myself master where I would
so gladly have been a loving subject. Do you think I have not suffered?
have
not wept bitter tears in secret, and been wrung by
sharper anguish than you have ever known? If you had given any sign of
affection, shown any wish to return to me, any shadow of regret for the wrong
you had done me, I would have broken my wand like Prospero, and used no magic
but the pardon of a faithful heart. You did not, and it has come to this.
Before you condemn me, remember that you dared me to do it — that you bid me
make my presence more powerful than Art — bid me convert you to my shadow, and
subdue you till you came like a pet dog at my call. Have I not obeyed you? Have
I not kept my part of the compact? Now keep yours.”

 
          
There
was something terrible in hearing words whose truth wounded while they
fell,
uttered in a voice whose concentrated passion made its
tones distinct and deep, as if an accusing spirit read them from that book
whose dread records never are effaced. My hot blood cooled, mv harsh mood
softened, and though it still burned, my resentment sank kwver, for,
remembering the little life to be, I wrestled with myself, and won humility
enough to say, with regretful energy:

 
          
“Forgive
me, Agatha, and let this sad past sleep. I have w ronged you, but I believed I
sinned no more than many another man w
⁷
ho, finding love dead, hoped
to feed his hunger w ith friendship and ambition. I never thought of such an
act till I saw
⁷
affection in your face; that tempted me, and I tried
to repay all you gave me
bv
the offer of the hand you
mutely asked. It w
⁷
as a bargain often made in this strange world of
ours, often repented as we repent now. Shall we abide by it, and by mutual
forbearance recover mutual peace?
or
shall I leave you
¹
free, to make life sweeter with a better man, and find myself poor and honest
as when w
⁷
e met?”

 
          
Something
in my w'ords stung her; and regarding me with the same baleful aspect, she
lifted her slender hand, so w asted since I made it mine, that the single
ornament it wore dropped into her palm, and holding it up, she said, as if
prompted by the evil genius that lies hidden in every heart:

 
          
“I
will do neither. I have outlived mv love, but pride still remains; and I will
not do as you have done, take cold friendship or selfish ambition to fill an
empty heart; I v ill not be pitied as an injured woman, or pointed at as one
who staked all on a mans faith and lost; I will have atonement for my
long-suffering — you owe me this, and I claim it. Henceforth you are the slave
of the ring, and when I command you must obey, for I possess a charm you cannot
defy. It is too late to ask for pity, pardon, liberty or happier life; law and
gospel joined us, and as yet law and gospel cannot put us asunder. You have
brought this fate upon yourself, accept it, submit to it, for I have bought you
with my wealth, I hold you with my mystic art, and body and soul, Max Krdmann,
you are mine!

 
          
I
knew it was all over then, for a woman never flings such taunts in her
husband’s teeth till patience, hope and love are gone. A desperate purpose
sprung up within me as I listened, yet I delayed a moment before I uttered it,
with a last desire to spare us both.

 
          
“Agatha,
do you mean that I am to lead the life I have been leading for three months — a
life of spiritual slavery worse than any torment of the flesh?”

 
          
“I
do.”