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93 pages

English

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Life, struck sharp on death, Makes awful lightning. - MRS. BROWNING.

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Publié par	Pub One Info
Date de parution	23 octobre 2010
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9782819908920
Langue	English

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I.
T HE ALARM. Life,struck sharp on death, Makes awful lightning. – MRS. BROWNING.
I had just come in from the street. I had a letterin my hand. It was for my fellow-lodger, a young girl who taught inthe High School, and whom I had persuaded to share my room becauseof her pretty face and quiet ways. She was not at home, and I flungthe letter down on the table, where it fell, address downwards. Ithought no more of it; my mind was too full, my heart too heavywith my own trouble.
Going to the window, I leaned my cheek against thepane. Oh, the deep sadness of a solitary woman's life! The sense ofhelplessness that comes upon her when every effort made, everypossibility sounded, she realizes that the world has no place forher, and that she must either stoop to ask the assistance offriends or starve! I have no words for the misery I felt, for I ama proud woman, and – – But no lifting of the curtain that shroudsmy past. It has fallen for ever, and for you and me and the world Iam simply Constance Sterling, a young woman of twenty-five, withouthome, relatives, or means of support, having in her pocketseventy-five cents of change, and in her breast a heart like lead,so utterly had every hope vanished in the day's rush ofdisappointments.
How long I stood with my face to the window I cannotsay. With eyes dully fixed upon the blank walls of the cottagesopposite, I stood oblivious to all about me till the fadingsunlight – or was it some stir in the room behind me? – recalled meto myself, and I turned to find my pretty room-mate staring at mewith a troubled look that for a moment made me forget my ownsorrows and anxieties. "What is it?" I asked, going towards herwith an irresistible impulse of sympathy. "I don't know," shemurmured; "a sudden pain here," laying her hand on her heart.
I advanced still nearer, but her face, which hadbeen quite pale, turned suddenly rosy; and, with a more naturalexpression, she took me by the hand, and said: "But you look morethan ill, you look unhappy. Would you mind telling me what worriesyou?"
The gentle tone, the earnest glance of modest yetsincere interest, went to my heart. Clutching her handconvulsively, I burst into tears. "It is nothing," said I; "only mylast resource has failed, and I don't know where to get a meal forto-morrow. Not that this is any thing in itself," I hastened toadd, my natural pride reasserting itself; "but the future! thefuture! – what am I to do with my future?"
She did not answer at first. A gleam – I canscarcely call it a glow – passed over her face, and her eyes took afar-away look that made them very sweet. Then a little flush stoleinto her cheek, and, pressing my hand, she said: "Will you trust itto me for a while?"
I must have looked my astonishment, for she hastenedto add: "Your future I have little concern for. With suchcapabilities as yours, you must find work. Why, look at your face!"and she drew me playfully before the glass. "See the forehead, themouth, and tell me you read failure there! But your present is whatis doubtful, and that I can certainly take care of." "But – – " Iprotested, with a sensation of warmth in my cheeks.
The loveliest smile stopped me before I could uttera word more. "As you would take care of mine," she completed, "ifour positions were reversed." Then, without waiting for a furtherdemur on my part, she kissed me, and as if the sweet embrace hadmade us sisters at once, drew me to a chair and sat down at myfeet. "You know," she naively murmured, "I am almost rich; I havefive hundred dollars laid up in the bank, and – – "
I put my hand over her lips; I could not help it.She was such a frail little thing, so white and so ethereal, andher poor five hundred had been earned by such weary, weary work."But that is nothing, nothing," I said. "You have a future toprovide for, too, and you are not as strong as I am, if you havebeen more successful."
She laughed, then blushed, then laughed again, andimpulsively cried: "It is, however, more than I need to buy awedding-dress with, don't you think?" And as I looked up surprised,she flashed out: "Oh, it's my secret; but I am going to be marriedin a month, and – and then I won't need to count my pennies anymore; and, so I say, if you will stay here with me without a careuntil that day comes, you will make me very happy, and put me atthe same time under a real obligation; for I shall want a greatmany things done, as you can readily conceive."
What did I say – what could I say, with her sweetblue eyes looking so truthfully into mine, but – "Oh, you darlinggirl!" while my heart filled with tears, which only escaped fromoverflowing my eyes, because I would not lessen her innocent joy bya hint of my own secret trouble. "And who is the happy man?" Iasked, at last, rising to pull down the curtain across a tooinquisitive ray of afternoon sunshine. "Ah, the noblest, best manin town!" she breathed, with a burst of gentle pride. "Mr. B – –"
She went no further, or if she did, I did not hearher, for just then a hubbub arose in the street, and lifting thewindow, I looked out. "What is it?" she cried, coming hastilytowards me. "I don't know," I returned. "The people are all rushingin one direction, but I cannot see what attracts them." "Come awaythen!" she murmured; and I saw her hand go to her heart, in the wayit did when she first entered the room a half-hour before. But justthen a sudden voice exclaimed below: "The clergyman! It is theclergyman!" And giving a smothered shriek, she grasped me by thearm, crying: "What do they say? ' The clergyman '? Do they say'The clergyman'?" "Yes," I answered, turning upon her with alarm.But she was already at the door. "Can it be?" I asked myself, as Ihurriedly followed, "that it is Mr. Barrows she is going tomarry?"
For in the small town of S – – Mr. Barrows was theonly man who could properly be meant by "The clergyman"; for thoughMr. Kingston, of the Baptist Church, was a worthy man in his way,and the Congregational minister had an influence with his flockthat was not to be despised, Mr. Barrows, alone of all hisfraternity, had so won upon the affections and confidence of thepeople as to merit the appellation of "The clergyman." "If I amright," thought I, "God grant that no harm has come to him!" and Idashed down the stairs just in time to see the frail form of myroom-mate flying out of the front door.
I overtook her at last; but where? Far out of townon that dark and dismal road, where the gaunt chimneys of thedeserted mill rise from a growth of pine-trees. But I knew before Ireached her what she would find; knew that her short dream of lovewas over, and that stretched amongst the weeds which choked theentrance to the old mill lay the dead form of the revered youngminister, who, by his precept and example, had won not only theheart of this young maiden, but that of the whole community inwhich he lived and labored.
II.
A FEARFULQUESTION. Nay, yet there's more in this: I pray thee, speak to meas to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate; and give thy worst ofthoughts The worst of words. – OTHELLO.
My room-mate was, as I have intimated, exceedinglyfrail and unobtrusive in appearance; yet when we came upon thisscene, the group of men about the inanimate form of her loverparted involuntarily as if a spirit had come upon them; though I donot think one of them, until that moment, had any suspicion of therelations between her and their young pastor. Being close behindher, I pressed forward too, and so it happened that I stood by herside when her gaze first fell upon her dead lover. Never shall Iforget the cry she uttered, or the solemn silence that fell overall, as her hand, rigid and white as that of a ghost's, slowly roseand pointed with awful question at the pallid brow upturned beforeher. It seemed as if a spell had fallen, enchaining the roughestthere from answering, for the truth was terrible, and we knew it;else why those dripping locks and heavily soaked garments oozing,not with the limpid waters of the stream we could faintly heargurgling in the distance, but with some fearful substance that dyedthe forehead blue and left upon the grass a dark stain that floodsof rain would scarcely wash away? "What is it? Oh, what does itmean?" she faintly gasped, shuddering backward with wondering dreadas one of those tiny streams of strange blue moisture found its wayto her feet.
Still that ominous silence. "Oh, I must know!" shewhispered. "I was his betrothed"; and her eyes wandered for amoment with a wild appeal upon those about her.
Whereupon a kindly voice spoke up. "He has beendrowned, miss. The blue – – " and there he hesitated. "The blue isfrom the remains of some old dye that must have been in the bottomof the vat out of which we drew him," another voice went on. "Thevat!" she repeated. "The vat! Was he found – – " "In the vat? Yes,miss." And there the silence fell again.
It was no wonder. For a man like him, alert, busy,with no time nor inclination for foolish explorations, to have beenfound drowned in the disused vat of a half-tumbled-down old mill ona lonesome and neglected road meant – – But what did it mean? Whatcould it mean? The lowered eyes of those around seemed to declineto express even a conjecture.
My poor friend, so delicate, so tender, reeled in myarms. "In the vat!" she reiterated again and again, as if her mindrefused to take in a fact so astounding and unaccountable. "Yes,miss, and he might never have been discovered," volunteered a voiceat last, over my shoulder, "if a parcel of school-children hadn'tstrayed into the mill this afternoon. It is a dreadful lonesomespot, you see, and – – " "Hush!" I whispered; "hush!" and I pointedto her face, which at these words had changed as if the breath ofdeath had blown across it; and winding my arms still closer abouther, I endeavored to lead her away.
But I did not know my room-mate. Pushing me gentlyaside, she turned to a stalwart man near by, whose face seemed toinvite conf