CHAPTER XXVII.
3IADAMR IWOTAIIT's ADVICE. Foor >fais had passed since Vivian, Lord Carsdalp, went away, leaving his young wfe, and four ycar3 hart brought changes. The merry month cif May had just begun to smilo over the land, the fire of the laburnum*) gleamed golden from the green mapsea of foliage, the birda were pin^inrr in their Irjfv bowers, the air was sweet vuth the odor of violet and mignonette, the troa thrilled again with the swectnrs3 of new li«\ Obo bright morning in this bright month, Ktfao stood in her mom alo:;c ; she had been out with Madime Iloubarfr, and some little incidtnt that occurred on the way had sent hpr thoughts to the hnsband who had almost cea?ed to remember her existence. For thp last two years ha hud not wr.tten one line to her ; ohe had recc ivod bur incomp. simply bo oaufe it w»s a matter qm'c in (he lawyerH 1 hands — Lord Caredale had nothing to dp with it. Thin bright May morning, thinking of him and of l»ow atrftn-^elyher life was passing, had saddened her. Four years married, and during that time her husband had neither written nor spoken one word of love to her — ho had never kissed her, never held her hand in bia own, never shown the least interest in j her since the day he had married her ; while she had grown to love him with an idolatrous ] lovo. All the pocma, the novels she had read, the lovo stories written in burning words, the tragedies, the reading of which had mocked her life — all these hod gone to feed the wild worphip she had for him. Once, during the first year of his absenoe, in an unguarded moment he had sent her his phot' graph. It had happened quite accidentally ; he had had some excellent ones taken, and they lay, carelessly enough, upon h» writing-tablo. Without a moment's thought, hr. placed one inside the envelope he was ad-dreg--ii.g to her ; be never thought of tho pain or thp plea p nrp it woulJ eauHQ ; it wai an aot of nmple indifference. There was the envelope, there was the photograph ; he pent them toji ther, never dr6Gming of the rapture of happincß- and of pain thst picture would cause hi<j wife. It, in hardly an exiir^rr.tion to say that she h<id madp that portrait her idol. Sue had enpiH it, mil wore it by night and by day in % Ificlv^t rf a^l'l ; Hhe slapt all night with th 6 locked o!ft»jW in her hand ; aho kissed the hsndi'omo face as soon as hhe woke : she iooktd at it fifty times during tho day, while tho p'i«sionate lovo deepened in her heart, flunking her rapidly from the innocent, airrpk), dreaming child- to the pa^Bionate, tragiu woman, wiio had no life out of her love. How t-he worked, snd toiled, and labored to make hwdf worthy of him — how oho studied, and thought, ard imitated I " Why," thfy arjkcd her, often — " why, Miss Dorwerrt, do you wish to be perfeot in everything?" " Why 1 She would look up with a gleam of wonder in her beautiful eyes. " Why, for his uake, to be euro— to win a word of approval from him ; to make him admire her ; to fit hcrrelf to be, in pome degree, a oompat.ion for him. To have won a word of love from him, she would have walked over 'redhot plough shares to her death. Everything wont to feed this one wild, inl^nce, passionate love, until it fillrd hfr whole heart, soul, and li f o — until she had no thought, no wish, no desire, no life beyond it. 0.1 thi« bright May morning she stood in the pretty room allotted to hnr, and no fairer picture could bavp brpn found in nil this gay city of London. She had ftro'vn taller ; her (i^ure whb be outifully devoloprd ; it was full of grace, r.nd pymmetry, and harmony, wellroundod, wi'.h lovply curvei and lines ; her fair hair h>id gi'own darker in hue— it was glopsy and silken, and was wound in rich coila round a noble head ; her throat was white as a lily, graceful and firm ; she had nrrn? that would have mado a sculptor dream, and Fr.onldpn) that w^re perfect. She was simply but plfgcntly drpfeed, the dark silk relieved bv ddirate wbit" lace ; but it was her face that riveted attention ; any stranger, feeing it for the first time, stood wondering what was in it. The unfinished "sketchy" beauty of the pirl had given place to the mnivelloui lorclinesH of the woman ; the regular foaturpa wire fully developed, tho sweet, pad lips, with their hidden dimple, had a new charm, there were new depths in the beautiful, rad eyes; but it was not bo much thp loveliness of *hfl fftoo that attracted one an the btory told tlore — tbereprcf-&«d passion, the intensity of love,' the tragedy. It wan e^ontially a tragic faoo ; looking at it, you felt sure that, no matter who the girl wai, ox vrh&t ihe was, there wav
'i onrtjiiiiiii -"urn 1 « ; \ rimir>i vi iv. 10 'AOf—tbe hntr mih, Ji'i'ml r> r f, full of unt'i'd noetry, radn^M, und love ; tho swi'et lips rno«t beautiful and m^t sad when si us 'milod. How could aha po thr->nih life lika other ppople — nho who lived in eloudland, i+he •vliofe thoughts were ritfays with the hu«Waiid who had numi^d hn* " vvith leii consif 7 oration than he would hr.ye Riven to Ux; ohooHin<^ of a huntr-r or a hound— how cc-ulil f>bo tafce life quietly and in the same commonplaoa in*aauro m thco who hurt no trajredy of wtutfd love anr! Wf<ted aff.ction ? What did they know of lifo. th* 83 people, who oiinpored and air.il.-d, who laughed ard sang, who loved ono moment and forgot tbe next, who changed their lovere as they did thpir gloves? She sinikd in oupeib d-Mitun. What did they know of nights *p~nt m bitter thought and bitter fears, of dayfl consumed in a fever of longing, of hours ol passionate unrest and pa?°ionate mi*ely7 It was &11 a dead, bitter life— nothing but play for th»m. "My dear Mias Dei went," fiaid Mudamo Roubart te her ono da^ , " could you not contrive to look a little less earnest? You have an almost tragic foroB of expression. You look more like a Groek podded— a Gre^k tragic muse, than a ninete( nth century young lady." Alice looked up in great alarm. "Is it so, madame? Do I look unlike other people ? "You always remind me of Tennyson's lEnone," replied madame, with a bright little laugh. " When I have a few moments to spare I like to spend it in studying dear Tennyson, and iEnone is one of my favorites. I oannot tell why, but whenever I look at you I think of her." " But why ?" asked Alice. " There must alwayß be a reason for all that every one does —why is it ?" 11 1 oanDat tell you, only that in my thoughts I give to iEnone tragic depth of sadneos and earnestness that you most certainly nldo possess, ihough of oourae," she continued, laughingly, "it is all nonsense. I know that , you have no beautiful Paris, no • evil hearted P»rip,' to mourn— how should you have? You have not met your Prub yet." " No one has ever loved me," replied Alice, with quiet dignity, "if that be what you mean." "That is just what I mean," toughed madame; " therefore I wouder why yon have that tragio expression— that carneft, selihd sadness." " Is there no cause of sorrow besides love ?" aaked Alice. 11 Yes ; I should say want of money was a thousand times harder to bear ; but >ou have neither, Mjbb Derwent, so try to look fcatt like a tragic muse. I have often told you you oannot make a greater mistake in this world than to show emotion, feeling or senpibUity of any kind; the world only commaM3 upon it to laugh at it. The mont perfect, well-bred woman," continuod madame, " i-i tho one who never shows joy or sorrow, pleasura cr piin ; who could stand, as many women do pund, with her foot on a red-hot plow-share, and not betray the least emotion of pam ; women in riociety have more to bear than that. 1 have serm thf-m smile a languid, inditleront etinle, while I have known that a red-hot sword has just been plunged deep into their hearts. 1 tiavo seen them smile, talk, laauli, sin?, v.hen I have known that they would have tfhen woilds to have sought refuge in death. Tho .^r«itart of good breeding h absence of all feeling. If you wi3h to make a decided eucoeaa iv society, you must take, al! that intensity from yrur face." "I will try," said Alioe; but the trial was all useless. She forgot it m a very few minute*, and looked more like, a Greek muse than evu-. " Four yoarß," Bhe was saying to herself, ts »hn Btood this morning in her little room. Next year cc "would be back again, and what would happen then? She had been home occasionally during that time, and on eaoh occasion had found matters a little improved. The help that Lord Garsdalo had given to the dancing-master had, to use his own expression, kept his head above water ; the falling off of a few pupils had not been a matter of life or death, and John Dorwent was very grateful for it— he told Alice so. Frank was doing well at school, the whole family wero better off and more at eace. The dancing-master spoke highly of Mr. Nelion, as he called him. He declared that most of the comfort of his life was owing to his generosity, and he was exceedingly grateful for it. Mrs. Derwent added that for the first time in her married life she had peace of mind. She knew that her house-rent and taxes were secure. She professed herself equally grateful to the same generous man. " Your marriape was a fortunate thing for us, Alice," she would say ; and Alice, her heart warm with all this praise of her husband, forgot for the time being the distanoe, the coldness, the reserve that was between them, and wrote him a moat rapturous letter of thanks. She repented having done that afterward, when week after week passed and no answer came. Lord Carsdale had read the letter through with a feeling of something like wonaor — wonder that any one should think so muoh of a trifle — wonder that Ailie should write so warmly to him. He had never answered it, simply because he was entirely indifferent; and she had been terribly wounded by that neglect. If he had sent a few curt lines, saying, " You need not thank me for what is to me a trifle too insignificant to remember," Bhe would have been oomforted. As it was, twenty times eaoh day her face would flush and grow hot at the remembranoe of each kindly or affectionate word Bhe had used to him. "Neither Bose, nor Frank, nor Hettie is married, nor likely to be," added Mrs. Derwent, with a sigh ; " they will never do as well as you have done, Alice." While in her heart Alioe prayed that the sisters she loved and oared for would never have a life marred by want of love, aa hers was.
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Waikato Times, Volume XXV, Issue 2063, 26 September 1885, Page 5 (Supplement)
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1,904CHAPTER XXVII. Waikato Times, Volume XXV, Issue 2063, 26 September 1885, Page 5 (Supplement)
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