_ CHAPTER XXV
"And therefore my heart is heavy
With a sense of unquiet pain,
For but Heaven can tell if the parted
Shall meet in the earth again.
"With Him be the time and the season
Of our meeting again with thee:
Whether here, on these earthly borders,
Or the shore of the world to be."
CAREY.
One day our party had traveled further than on any previous occasion: long and tedious was the ride, still they pushed on, hoping to reach some stream ere the tents were pitched for the night, as an abundant supply of pure fresh water was essential to the comfort of their camp. In the metaphorical strain of a certain writer--"Phoebus drove his steeds to be foddered in their western stables." Slowly twilight fell upon the earth, and, one by one, the lamps of heaven were lit. The wagon in which Dr. Bryant and Mary rode was rather in the rear of the party, as the riders pressed anxiously forward. The cool night-wind blew fresh upon the fevered brow of the invalid, and gently lifted and bore back the clustering curls.
"I am very much afraid you will take cold:" and Dr. Bryant wrapped his coat carefully about her.
"Thank you:" and she sank back in its heavy folds, and looked up to the brilliant firmament, where the stars glittered, like diamonds on a ground of black velvet, in the clear, frosty air.
"Orion has culminated; and how splendidly it glows to-night, I think I never saw it so brilliant."
"Perhaps it appears so from the peculiar position whence you view it. You never observed it before from a wagon, in a broad prairie, with naught intervening between the constellation and yourself save illimitable space, though I agree with you in thinking it particularly splendid. I have ever regarded it as the most beautiful among the many constellations which girt the heavens."
"I have often wondered if Cygnus was not the favorite of papists, Dr. Bryant."
"Ah I it never occurred to me before, but, since you mention it, I doubt not they are partial to it. How many superstitious horrors are infused into childish brains by nurses and nursery traditions! I well remember with what terror I regarded the Dolphin, or, in common parlance, 'Job's Coffin,' having been told that, when that wrathful cluster was on the meridian, some dreadful evil would most inevitably befall all who ventured to look upon it; and often, in my boyhood, I have covered my face with my hands, and asked its whereabouts. Indeed I regarded it much as AEneas did Orion, when he says:
"'To that blest shore we steered our destined way,
When sudden dire Orion roused the sea!
All charged with tempests rose the baleful star,
And on our navy poured his watery war.'
The contemplation of the starry heavens has ever exerted an elevating influence on my mind. In viewing its glories, I am borne far from the puerilities of earth, and my soul seeks a purer and more noble sphere."
"Your quotation from Virgil recalled a passage in Job--'Seek him that maketh the seven stars and Orion, and turneth the shadow of death into morning.' Oh! how inimitably sublime is inspired language--and 'turneth the shadow of death into morning.' And how comforting the promise conveyed," said Mary, earnestly.
"Miss Irving, don't you admire Cassiopeia very much?" said Dr. Bryant, wishing to turn the current of her thoughts. "I think it very beautiful, particularly when it occupies its present position, and, as it were, offers to weary travelers so inviting a seat. Yet often I am strangely awed, in gazing on the group so enveloped in unfathomable mystery. Who may say when another of its jewels shall flicker and go out? And when may not our own world to other planets be a 'Lost Star?' How childish associations cling to one in after years. I never looked up at Cassiopeia, without recalling the time when my tutor gave me as a parsing lesson, the first lines of the 'Task'--literally a task to me (mind I do not claim the last as original, for it is a plagiarism on somebody, I forget now who). My teacher first read the passage carefully over, explaining each idea intended to be conveyed, and at the conclusion turned to an assistant, and remarked that 'with Cassiopeia for a model, he wondered chairs were not earlier constructed.' I wondered in silence what that hard word could signify, and at length summoned courage to ask an explanation. A few nights afterward, visiting at my father's, he took me out, pointed to the constellation, and gave the origin of the name, while, to my great joy, I discovered the resemblance to a chair. Ah! that hour is as fresh in my memory as though I stood but last night by his side and listened to his teachings.
"Yes, who will deny the magic influence of association? After all, Dr. Bryant, it is not the intrinsic beauty of an object that affords us such delight, but ofttimes the memory of the happy past, so blended with the beauty viewed as scarcely to be analyzed in the soothing emotions which steal into the heart. Such a night as this ever reminds me of the beautiful words of Willis, in his 'Contemplations;' and, like Alethe, I often ask, 'When shall I gather my wings, and, like a rushing thought, stretch onward, star by star, up into heaven?'"
A silence ensued for several moments, and then the cry of "Water!" "water!" fell refreshingly on the ears of the wearied travelers, and the neighboring stream was hailed as joyfully as was in olden time the well of Gem-Gem.
Soon the tents were pitched, and a bright crackling fire kindled. Florence, declaring she was too much fatigued for supper, threw herself on her pallet. Aunt Lizzy and Mrs. Carlton were busily unpacking some of their utensils, and Mary, closely wrapt up, stood by the blazing logs, thinking how cheerful its ruddy light made every object seem, and wondering if, after all, the Ghebers were so much to blame, Mr. Carlton joined her; and after inquiring how she bore their very fatiguing ride, remarked that in a few more days their journeyings would be over.
"I shall almost regret its termination. This mode of traveling seems very pleasant to me, and you, who are strong and well, must enjoy it much more."
Just then the sound of approaching hoofs caused her to look toward their wagon; and she perceived two men mounted, one in the act of descending, while Dr. Bryant advanced quickly to meet him.
Mr. Carlton left her. Silently she looked on, wondering who the strangers could possibly be, when the words fell with startling distinctness on her listening ear:
"Dudley Stewart! do my eyes deceive me?"
"Frank Bryant is it possible I meet you here?"
The tones of the last speaker were too familiar to be mistaken. She trembled from head to foot as the past rose before her. Her first thought was of Florence.
"Oh, if he is married, this meeting will be terrible!" and her heart throbbed violently as the gentlemen approached her. Scarce conscious of her movements, she advanced to meet Dr. Bryant, whose arm was linked in that of the new comer. They met: the fire-light glowed on the face of both.
"Mr. Stewart!" and the wasted hand was extended.
"Mary Irving! or is this an illusion?" Tightly the hand was clasped.
"It is I----your old pupil, though so altered, I wonder not that you fail to recognize me." She lifted her eyes and met Dr. Bryant's gaze, deep and piercing, as though he were reading her inmost soul. Mr. Stewart looked long at the face turned toward him.
"Frank, you did not tell me she was with you! Oh, how changed--how wasted you are! But what means this black dress?" and his fingers clutched her mourning gown, while his deep tone faltered. Mary drew closer to his side, and murmured:
"Florry is well: but my uncle has been taken from us." Her head sunk on her bosom as she spoke.
"Where is Florence?" and he tightly clasped her hand between his own.
A shudder crept over Dr. Bryant, who had not heard their words, and he walked quickly away.
"Florry is in the tent. Mr. Stewart, we heard that you were married; can this be true?"
"No, no! Did your cousin credit the report?"
"Yes; and ere you make yourself known, let me in some degree prepare her for the meeting."
So saying, she sought Florence, and asked if she were sleeping.
"No, Mary; can I do anything for you?" and she raised her head.
"Yes, Florry, come with me--I want to speak to you."
Her cousin accompanied her to the door, and standing so that the tent intervened between them and Mr. Stewart, Mary laid her hand on Florence's shoulder, and said:
"I have just learned, Florry, that Mr. Stewart is not married."
"Mary, Mary! why touch a chord which ever vibrates with the keenest agony? There is no happiness for me on earth--I have known that for long, and now I am striving to fix my thoughts, and all of hope that remains, on heaven."
Mary linked her arm in Florence's, and gently drawing her forward, replied:
"God has not promised heaven as the price of every earthly joy and comfort. Can you not still hope for happiness?"
"Mary, I am parted forever from him whom I have loved so devotedly; yet I cease to repine. I know my lot, and I will pass through life alone, yes, alone, without a murmur."
"Not so, Florence--my own treasured Florence!"
She turned quickly, and was clasped to the heart of him she had sworn to love alone.
"Am I dreaming?" said Florence, gazing eagerly up into the noble face before her. He lifted his cap from his brow, and bent his head that the light might fall full upon it. A gleam of perfect joy irradiated her beautiful face, and, leaning her head on his shoulder, she whispered: "Forgive me--for I doubted you."
He bent, and sealed her pardon with a long kiss.
Mary stole away to Mrs. Carlton to impart the good news; Dr. Bryant had already communicated it. Warmly she sympathized with them in again meeting an old friend; but Mary heeded not her words, for her eyes were riveted on Frank's stern brow and slightly curling lip. A mist rose before her, and catching for support at the tent, she would have fallen, had not his strong arm encircled her; and soon she lay motionless in her tent. He stood and looked on her a moment, then knelt and clasped the cold hands. Mary had not swooned, though well-nigh insensible, and a low moan of anguish escaped her lips, colorless, and writhing with pain.
"Can I do nothing for you?"
"No, thank you; only do not tell Florry and Mr. Stewart I am ill. It would only damp the joy of their meeting."
He left her, and met the lovers as they sought the remainder of the party. He understood at a glance the position of affairs, and with the sad conviction that Mary loved Mr. Stewart, and loved him in vain, he strove to repress his emotion and appear as usual.
Florence withdrew her hand from Mr. Stewart's clasp, and, with a deep blush, passed Frank in order to reach the tent. He placed himself before it.
"Miss Hamilton, I can't allow any one to disturb your cousin; she is almost exhausted by our long ride, and I forbid all company, as she needs rest and quiet."
"I will not disturb her in the least, I assure you, Doctor." But he persisted, and she was forced to form one of the circle that now gathered round the fire.
Mr. Stewart, in answer to Dr. Bryant's inquiries, replied that he had long felt anxious to visit San Antonio, but had been detained at home by important business till within a few weeks, when he set out for Austin, and obtaining there a sort of guide and companion, was hastening on, hoping to reach the former place ere the arrival of the Mexican forces.
"Having heard," continued he, "that Mr. Hamilton's death left his family somewhat unprotected, I felt particularly anxious on their account. Seeing your camp-fire, attracted us in this direction, and happy am I to meet so many old friends."
To Florence he had been far more explicit, detailing the causes which produced a most fortunate change in his circumstances, and his immediate determination to seek her in her Western home.
"You will return with us to Washington then, Stewart, as we possess the treasure you are in search of?"
"Yes, if none of the party offer any objection," replied he.
"I don't know that any feel disposed to act so ungratefully: suppose we inquire however. Miss Hamilton, have you any objection to receiving, as an escort and protector, this amiable cavalier, who has wandered so far from home to offer his services?"
"Frank, it is hardly fair to make her speak for the party; some may differ with her, on so important a point."
"You seem quite certain as to her sentiments on this subject. Upon my word, Miss Florence, if I were you, I should most assuredly take this occasion to teach him a little humility; for instance, just tell him it makes no difference with you--that it is perfectly immaterial."
"In following your advice, Doctor, the responsibility will be inevitably transferred to yourself; and I must thank you for so politely relieving me."
"I see no reason, Stewart, why you should not join our party, and lend your assistance toward enlivening the tedious hours yet in store for us; though only a few more days of travel remain, thank Heaven."
"One would suppose, from the fear of ennui which seems to cloud your future, that Mary and I had not succeeded so happily as we imagined, in our efforts to entertain you."
"Pardon me, Miss Florence, if I have failed duly to appreciate your kind efforts; though candor compels the avowal, that I was not aware any extraordinary exertion was made in my behalf."
"Really, Frank, I should say you have made considerable progress in raising yourself in your own estimation since last I heard you converse. Mrs. Carlton, I am afraid this climate is unfavorable for the growth of at least two of the cardinal virtues."
"Your insinuation is contemptible, because utterly without grounds. Miss Florence, I appeal to you, as worthy the privilege of acting as umpire in this important discussion. Have you ever observed aught in my conduct indicating a want of humility?"
"Unfortunately, Doctor, should I return an answer in your favor, it would be at the expense of a virtue equally entitled to pre-eminence."
"To the very candid Miss Hamilton, I must return thanks for her disinterested and very flattering decision."
Here the conversation was interrupted by a call to the evening meal, and gladly they obeyed the welcome summons.
Florence glancing round perceived the absence of her cousin, and inquired the cause.
"I dare say she is asleep, poor child," said Aunt Lizzy.
"She is trying to rest, Miss Hamilton, and I would not advise any interruption. She needs quiet, for she was sorely tried by this day's fatigues," observed Dr. Bryant.
"I am afraid so," replied Florence, an anxious look again settling on her face. "Oh, I wish on her account we could reach a place of rest and safety. I fear she has failed in strength since leaving San Antonio."
"How sadly changed she has become: had she not spoken in her old, familiar tones, I should not have known her. I earnestly hope there is nothing serious in her attack, and that she will soon regain her former bloom; it pains me to see her so altered," said Mr. Stewart.
"She cannot possibly improve while subjected to the fatigues of this journey. I feared she was scarce able to endure it," answered Frank.
The conversation turned on more agreeable topics, and soon--by all but Frank, who could not forget her look of anguish--she was for a time forgotten.
Mary heard from her couch of suffering the cheerful blending of voices, though nothing distinct reached her ear; and as none approached to soothe her by affectionate inquiries, a sense of neglect stole over her. But too habitually accustomed to judge gently of others and forget herself, it passed quickly away. She knelt on her pallet, and clasping her thin hands, raised her heart to God, in the low, feeble tone of one well-nigh spent:
"My God, thou readest my heart! Thou knowest how, day by day, I have striven to love thee more and serve thee better. Yet, oh, Father of mercies! my soul is tortured with unutterable agony! Oh! on the verge of the tomb, my heart still clings to earth and its joys. Look down in thy mercy upon me, and help me to fix my thoughts on heaven and thee. For long I have known the vanity of my hope, and the deceitfulness of human things; yet I could not tear away the pleasing image, and turn to thee alone for comfort. Oh, may peace be my portion the few days I have to live, and when death comes, be thou with me, my God, to comfort and take me soon to my home above."
She sank back in very weariness. "Oh, Frank, how could you so mistake me?--you whom I have loved so long, how could you believe I loved another?"
* * * * *
In the clear sunny light of morning, how cheerful all things looked; and to a heart at peace with God, nature seemed rejoicing. The deep blue vault arching inimitably above--the musical murmuring of the creek, as it rushed along its rocky bed--the mosquit, bent and glittering with its frosty mantle, blended with the blazing camp-fire and the busy hum of preparation for the day, stole pleasingly into the heart. All the party, save Mary, stood about the fire, warming their fingers and chatting on the various occurrences of their long journey. All paused to welcome the invalid, as she joined them with a slow, feeble step; yet she looked better than she had done since leaving her home. Restlessly she had tossed on her hard couch, and now the hectic flush mantled the thin cheek and brightened the deep blue eyes. The warm congratulations of her friends on her improved appearance brought a sad smile to her lip, and the expression of Dr. Bryant's countenance told her that he at least realized her danger. Never had Florence looked more beautiful, as the clear cold air brought the glow to her cheek, added to the effect of her mourning dress and the expression of quiet happiness, imparting an indescribable charm to her lovely features.
"As you now stand, Miss Florence, looking so earnestly toward the east, you seem to me a perfect realization of Willis's Jephtha's Daughter:
"'She stood before her father's gorgeous tent,
To listen for his coming. Her loose hair
Was resting on her shoulder, like a cloud
Floating around a statue, and the wind
Just swaying her light robe, revealed a shape
Praxiteles might worship:
Her countenance was radiant with love:
She looked to die for it--a being whose
Whole existence was the pouring out
Of rich and deep affections.'"
As he looked upon her these lines were uttered half unconsciously; and then turning to Mary, he gently asked if he might speak what was passing in his mind.
"Certainly, Frank--continue your quotation; the lines never seemed so beautiful before;" said Mr. Stewart, glancing at Florence as he spoke.
"Doubtless not, Stewart, because never so applied. Miss Hamilton, your cousin looks more as did the Jewish maiden at close of evening:
"'Her face was pale, but very beautiful; her lip
Had a more delicate outline, and the tint
Was deeper. But her countenance was like the
Majesty of Angels.'"
"Dr. Bryant, is it possible you so far forget yourself and previously expressed opinions, as to make quotations? I thought you a sworn foe to the practise."
"On ordinary occasions, I am: and you may rest assured it is the last time I commit such an absurdity by a camp fire. I think you once asked me my objection--will you hear it now? When I was quite young, I one day read an anecdote of the celebrated Greek professor, Dr. Porson, which gave me a strong bias against quotations, particularly locating them, which necessarily follows. Porson was once traveling in a stage-coach, when a young Oxonian, fresh from college, was amusing some ladies with quite a variety of small talk, among other things a quotation from Sophocles, as he said. A Greek quotation in a stage-coach roused Porson, who half slumbered in a quiet corner. 'Young gentleman,' said he, 'I think you indulged us, just now, with a quotation from Sophocles; I don't happen to remember it there.'--'Oh, sir,' rejoined the tyro, 'the quotation is word for word, and in Sophocles too.' The professor handed him a small edition of Sophocles, and requested him to point out the passage. After rummaging about for some time, he replied: 'Upon second thought the passage is in Euripides.' 'Then,' said Porson, handing him a similar edition of Euripides, 'perhaps you will be so kind as to find it for me in this little book.' Our young gentleman returned unsuccessfully to the search, with the very pleasant cogitation of 'Curse me, if ever I quote Greek again in a stage-coach,' The tittering of the ladies increased his confusion, and desperate at last, he exclaimed--'Bless me, how dull I am; I remember now perfectly that the passage is in AEschylus. The incorrigible professor dived again into his apparently bottomless pocket, and produced an edition of AEschylus; but the astounded Oxonian exclaimed, 'Stop the coach! Halloa! coachman, let me out instantly; there is a fellow inside here that has got the whole Bodleian library in his pocket. Let me out, I say--it must be Porson or the devil!' Now previous to reading this anecdote, I must confess to quite a
penchant for quotations, but I assure you a full year elapsed ere I ventured on another; and for a long time the ghost of our gentleman appeared, specter-like, before me, whenever I attempted one."
When the merriment subsided, Mr. Stewart asked if it was not of this same professor that a phrenologist remarked, on examining his skull, that "the most important question was, how the ideas found access to the brain--once inside, and there are very solid reasons to prevent their getting out again."
"Yes, the same. Craniologists admit, I believe, that his was the thickest skull ever examined; and it is related that when he could no longer articulate English, he spoke Greek with fluency."
In a few moments the camp was broken up, and they proceeded on their way. Mary cast a longing glance toward her horse, now mounted by one of the servants, and was taking her seat in the wagon, when Dr. Bryant said:
"Would you like to try your horse a little while this morning? If it proves too fatiguing, you can return to the wagon."
"I should like it very much, if I felt strong enough, but I could not sit upright so long. Doctor, will you be so kind as to ride my horse for me to-day, and let William drive?"
"Certainly, if you prefer it; but may I venture to ask your reason?"
"You have long been separated from your friend, and naturally wish to be with him. Do not, on my account, remain behind the party, as you are forced to do in driving the wagon, but join Florence and Mr. Stewart, who seem in such fine spirits this beautiful morning. I feel too weary and feeble to talk, and William will take good care of me."
He fixed his dark eyes mournfully on her face; she could not meet his gaze, and her head sunk upon her bosom.
"Believe me, Miss Irving, every other pleasure is second to that of watching over and being with you. If, in the proposed change, my feelings alone are to be consulted, allow me to remain with you."
"Thank you, Dr. Bryant, you are very kind to remember me so constantly; my only object was to promote your enjoyment of the day."
They rode for some distance in silence.
"This is my birthday; and how little I fancied, on the last anniversary, that I should be so situated," said Dr. Bryant, as though speaking unconsciously.
"How one's feelings change with maturer years. I remember well that, in my childhood, the lapse of time seemed provokingly slow, and I wondered why, from year to year, it seemed so very long. The last three years of my life, though somewhat checkered, have flown too quickly away. A month ago, I would willingly have recalled them, but they are lost in the ocean of eternity, only to be remembered now as a changing, feverish dream," Mary replied.
"Miss Irving, without the benign and elevating influence of Hope, that great actuating principle from the opening to the close of life, what a dreary blank our existence would prove. In childhood it gorgeously gilds the future; the tints fade as maturity gains that future, and then it gently brightens the evening of life, while memory flings her mantle of witchery over the past, recalling, in hours of sadness, all of joy to cheer the heart, and banishing forever the phantoms of terror--the seasons of gloom that once haunted us."
"Yes, how appropriately has the great bard of Time, termed Hope 'silver-tongued.' And then, its soothing accents are felt and acknowledged in the darkest hour of human trial. When about to sever every earthly tie--when on the eve of parting with every object rendered dear by nature and association--when the gloomy portals of the silent tomb open to receive us, then comes Hope to paint the joys of heaven. Our reunion with those we have loved and lost--perfect freedom from sin--the society of angels, and the spirits of the just made perfect; the presence of our Saviour, and an everlasting home in the bosom of our God."
A look of unutterable peace and joy settled on the face of Mary as she finished speaking and sank back, her hands clasped, and her eyes raised as though in communion with the spirits above.
Dr. Bryant's eyes rested with a sort of fascination on her countenance.
"You have this hope; yes, already your soul turns from earth and its vanities to the pure, unfailing fount of heavenly joy. Oh! that I, like you, could soon find peace and perfect happiness? I have striven against the bitter feelings which of late have crept into my heart; still, despite my efforts, they gather rapidly about me. I look forward, and feel sick at heart. Turbid are all the streams of earthly pleasures, and fully now I realize those lines, which once seemed the essence of misanthropy--
'I thought upon this hollow world,
And all its hollow crew.'
For a time I found delight in intellectual pursuits, but soon wearied of what failed to bring real comfort in hours of trial."
"You need some employment to draw forth every faculty: in a life of active benevolence and usefulness, this will be supplied. Do not give vent to feelings of satiety or ennui; your future should be bright--no dangers threaten, and many and important duties await you in life. God has so constituted us, that happiness alone springs from the faithful discharge of these. Every earthly resource fails to bring contentment, unless accompanied by an active, trusting faith in God, and hope of blessedness in heaven. Wealth, beauty, genius are as naught; and fame, that hollow, gilded bauble, brings not the promised delight, and an aching void remains in the embittered heart. One of our most talented authors, now seated on the pinnacle of fame, assures us that
'The Sea of Ambition is tempest tost,
And your hopes may vanish like foam.'
* * * * *
'The Sun of Fame but gilds the name,
The heart ne'er felt its ray.'
Pardon me if I have ventured too far, or wounded your feelings: it was not my intention, and I have spoken half unconsciously."
"Thank you, Miss Irving, for your kind words of comfort and advice. Fear not that ambition will lure me: I know its hollow, bitter wages, and cannot be deceived. Yet there is a lonely feeling in my heart which I cannot dispel at will. Still my plans for the future are sufficiently active to interest me; and I doubt not that a year hence I shall feel quite differently. If I could always have your counsel and sympathy, I should fear nothing."
"In seasons of trial--in the hours of gloom and despondency--appeal to your sister for comfort. Oh! she is far more capable of advising and cheering than I, who only echo her sentiments." Mary pressed her hand to her side, and leaning back, closed her eyes, as if longing for rest.
"I have drawn you on to converse more than was proper--forgive my thoughtlessness; and, if it would not be impossible, sleep, and be at rest." He carefully arranged her shawls, and as she lay a long while with closed eyes, he thought her sleeping, but turning, after a time, was surprised to perceive her gazing earnestly out on the beautiful country through which they now rode. _