CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
"Far be it from me to wish to annoy you, my son," said Father Mathias,as with difficulty he kept pace with the rapid strides of Philip, whowas now within a quarter of a mile of his home; "but still, recollectthat this is but a transitory world, and that much time has elapsedsince you quitted this spot. For that reason, I would fain desire you,if possible, to check these bounding aspirations after happiness, thesejoyful anticipations in which you have indulged since we quitted thevessel. I hope and trust in the mercy of God, that all will be right,and that in a few minutes you will be in the arms of your much-lovedwife; but still, in proportion as you allow your hopes to be raised, sowill you inevitably have them crushed should disappointment cross yourpath. At Flushing we were told that there has been a dreadfulvisitation in this land, and death may not have spared even one so youngand fair."
"Let us haste on father," replied Philip; "what you say is true, andsuspense becomes most dreadful."
Philip increased his speed, leaving the old man to follow him: hearrived at the bridge with its wooden gate. It was then about seveno'clock in the morning, for they had crossed the Scheldt at the dawn ofday.
Philip observed that the lower shutters were still closed.
"They might have been up and stirring before this," thought he, as heput his hand to the latch of the door. It was not fastened. Philipentered; there was a light burning in the kitchen; he pushed open thedoor, and beheld a maid-servant leaning back in her chair, in a profoundsleep. Before he had time to go in and awaken her, he heard a voice atthe top of the stairs, saying, "Marie, is that the doctor?"
Philip waited no longer; in three bounds he was on the landing-placeabove, and pushing by the person who had spoken, he opened the door ofAmine's room.
A floating wick in a tumbler of oil gave but a faint and glimmeringlight; the curtains of the bed were drawn, and by the side of it waskneeling a figure which was well known to Philip--that of Father Seysen.Philip recoiled; the blood retreated to his heart; he could not speak:panting for breath, he supported himself against the wall, and at lastvented his agony of feeling by a deep groan, which aroused the priest,who turned his head, and perceiving who it was, rose from his knees, andextended his hand in silence.
"She is dead, then!" at last exclaimed Philip.
"No! my son, not dead; there is yet hope. The crisis is at hand; in onemore hour her fate will be decided: then, either will she be restored toyour arms, or follow the many hundreds whom this fatal epidemic hasconsigned to the tomb."
Father Seysen then led Philip to the side of the bed, and withdrew thecurtain. Amine lay insensible, but breathing heavily; her eyes wereclosed. Philip seized her burning hand, knelt down, pressed it to hislips, and burst into a paroxysm of tears. As soon as he had becomesomewhat composed, Father Seysen persuaded him to rise and sit with himby the side of the bed.
"This is a melancholy sight to witness at your return, Philip," said he;"and to you who are so ardent, so impetuous, it must be doubly so; butGod's will be done. Remember, there is yet hope--not strong hope, Igrant; but still, there is hope, for so told me the medical man who hasattended her, and who will return, I expect, in a few minutes. Herdisease is a typhus fever, which has swept off whole families withinthese last two months, and still rages violently; fortunate indeed, isthe house which has to mourn but one victim. I would that you had notarrived just now, for it is a disease easily communicated. Many havefled from the country for security. To add to our misfortunes, we havesuffered from the want of medical advice, for the physician and thepatient have been swept away together."
The door was now slowly opened, and a tall, dark man, in a brown cloak,holding to his nose a sponge saturated with vinegar, entered the room.He bowed his head to Philip and the priest, and then went to thebedside. For a minute he held his fingers to the pulse of the sufferer,then laying down her arm, he put his hand to her forehead, and coveredher up with the bedclothes. He handed to Philip the sponge and vinegar,making a sign that he should use it, and beckoned Father Seysen out ofthe room.
In a minute the priest returned. "I have received his directions, myson; he thinks that she may be saved. The clothes must be kept on her,and replaced if she should throw them off; but everything will dependupon quiet and calm after she recovers her senses."
"Surely, we can promise her that," replied Philip.
"It is not the knowledge of your return, or even the sight of you, whichalarms me. Joy seldom kills, even when the shock is great, but thereare other causes for uneasiness."
"What are they, holy Father?"
"Philip, it is now thirteen days that Amine has raved, and during thatperiod I have seldom quitted her but to perform the duties of my officeto others who required it. I have been afraid to leave her, Philip, forin her ravings she has told such a tale even unconnected as it has been,as has thrilled my soul with horror. It evidently has long lain heavilyon her mind, and must retard her recovery. Philip Vanderdecken, you mayremember that I would once have had the secret from you--the secretwhich forced your mother to her tomb, and which now may send your youngwife to follow her, for it is evident that she knows all. Is it nottrue?"
"She does know all," replied Philip, mournfully.
"And she has in her delirium told all. Nay, I trust she has told morethan all; but of that we will not speak now: watch her, Philip. I willreturn in half an hour, for by that time, the doctor tells me, thesymptoms will decide whether she will return to reason, or be lost toyou for ever."
Philip whispered to the priest that he had been accompanied by FatherMathias, who was to remain as his guest, and requested him to explainthe circumstances of his present position to him, and see that he wasattended to. Father Seysen then quitted the room, when Philip sat downby the bedside, and drew back the curtain.
Perhaps there is no situation in life so agonising to the feelings asthat in which Philip was now placed. His joyful emotions, whenexpecting to embrace in health and beauty the object of his warmestaffections, and of his continual thought during his long absence,suddenly checked by disappointment, anxiety and grief, at finding herlying emaciated, changed, corrupted with disease--her mind overthrown--her eyes unconscious of his presence--her existence hanging by a singlehair--her frame prostrate before the king of terrors, who hovers overher with uplifted dart, and longs for the fiat which should permit himto pierce his unconscious victim.
"Alas!" thought Philip, "is it thus we meet, Amine? Truly did FatherMathias advise me, as I hurried so impetuously along, not (as I fondlythought) to happiness, but to misery. God of Heaven! be merciful, andforgive me. If I have loved this angelic creature of thy formation,even more than I have thee, spare her, good Heaven, spare her--or I amlost for ever."
Philip covered up his face, and remained for some time in prayer. Hethen bent over his Amine, and impressed a kiss upon her burning lips.They were burning hot; still there was moisture upon them, and Philipperceived that there was also moisture on her forehead. He felt herhand, and the palm of it was moist; and carefully covering her with thebedclothes, he watched her with anxiety and hope.
In a quarter of an hour he had the delight of perceiving that Amine wasin a profuse perspiration; gradually her breathing became less heavy,and instead of the passive state in which she had remained, she moved,and became restless. Philip watched, and replaced the clothes as shethrew them off, until she at last appeared to have fallen into aprofound and sweet sleep. Shortly after, Father Seysen and thephysician made their appearance. Philip stated, in few words, what hadoccurred. The doctor went to the bedside, and in half a minutereturned.
"Your wife is spared to you, Mynheer, but it is not advisable that sheshould see you so unexpectedly; the shock may be too great in her weakstate; she must be allowed to sleep as long as possible; on her wakingshe will have returned to reason. You must leave her then to FatherSeysen."
"May I not remain in the room until she awakes? I will then hasten awayunobserved."
r /> "That will be useless; the disease is contagious, and you have been heretoo long already. Remain below; you must change your clothes, and seethat they prepare a bed for her in another room, to which she must betransported as soon as you think she can bear it; and then let thesewindows be thrown open, that the room may be properly ventilated. Itwill not do to have a wife just rescued from the jaws of death run therisk of falling a sacrifice to the attentions necessary to a sickhusband."
Philip perceived the prudence of this advice, and quitting the room withthe medical man, he went and changed his clothes, and then joined FatherMathias, whom he found in the parlour below.
"You were right, Father," said Philip, throwing himself on the sofa.
"I am old and suspicious, you are young and buoyant, Philip; but I trustall may yet be well."
"I trust so too," replied Philip. He then remained silent and absorbedin thought, for now that the imminent danger was over, he was reflectingupon what Father Seysen had communicated to him, relative to Amine'shaving revealed the secret whilst in a state of mental aberration. Thepriest, perceiving that his mind was occupied, did not interrupt him.An hour had thus passed, when Father Seysen entered the room.
"Return thanks to Heaven, my son. Amine has awakened, and is perfectlysensible and collected. There is now little doubt of her recovery. Shehas taken the restorative ordered by the doctor though she was soanxious to repose once more, that she could hardly be persuaded toswallow it. She is now again fast asleep, and watched by one of themaidens, and in all probability will not move for many hours; but everymoment of such sleep is precious, and she must not be disturbed. I willnow see to some refreshment, which must be needful to us all. Philip,you have not introduced me to your companion, who, I perceive, is of myown calling."
"Forgive me, sir," replied Philip; "you will have great pleasure inmaking acquaintance with Father Mathias who has promised to reside withme, I trust, for some time. I will leave you together, and see to thebreakfast being prepared; for the delay of which I trust Father Mathiaswill accept my apology."
Philip then left the room and went into the kitchen. Having orderedwhat was requisite to be taken into the parlour, he put on his hat andwalked out of the house. He could not eat; his mind was in a state ofconfusion; the events of the morning had been too harassing andexciting, and he felt as if the fresh air was necessary to hisexistence.
As he proceeded, careless in which direction, he met many with whom hehad been acquainted, and from whom he had received condolence at hissupposed bereavement, and congratulations when they learnt from him thatthe danger was over; and from them he also learnt how fatal had been thepestilence.
Not one-third of the inhabitants of Terneuse and the surrounding countryremained alive, and those who had recovered were in a state ofexhaustion, which prevented them from returning to their accustomedoccupations. They had combated disease, but remained the prey of miseryand want; and Philip mentally vowed that he would appropriate all hissavings to the relief of those around him. It was not until more thantwo hours had passed away that Philip returned to the cottage. On hisarrival he found that Amine still slumbered, and the two priests were inconversation below.
"My son," said Father Seysen, "let us now have a little explanation. Ihave had a long conference with this good father, who hath muchinterested me with his account of the extension of our holy religionamong the Pagans. He hath communicated to me much to rejoice at, andmuch to grieve for; but, among other questions put to him, I have (inconsequence of what I have learnt during the mental alienation of yourwife) interrogated him upon the point of a supernatural appearance of avessel in the Eastern seas. You observe, Philip, that your secret isknown to me, or I could not have put that question. To my surprise hehath stated a visitation of the kind to which he was eye-witness, andwhich cannot reasonably be accounted for, except by supernaturalinterposition. A strange and certainly most awful visitation! Philip,would it not be better (instead of leaving me in a maze of doubt) thatyou now confided to us both all the facts connected with this strangehistory, so that we may ponder on them, and give you the benefit ofadvice of those who are older than yourself, and who by their callingmay be able to decide more correctly whether this supernatural power hasbeen exercised by a good or evil intelligence?"
"The holy father speaks well, Philip Vanderdecken," observed Mathias.
"If it be the work of the Almighty, to whom should you confide, and bywhom should you be guided, but by those who do his service on thisearth? If of the evil one, to whom but to those whose duty and wish itis to counteract his baneful influence? And reflect, Philip, that thissecret may sit heavily on the mind of your cherished wife, and may bowher to the grave, as it did your (I trust) sainted mother. With you,and supported by your presence, she may bear it well; but recollect howmany are the lonely days and nights that she must pass during yourabsence, and how much she must require the consolation and help ofothers. A secret like this must be as a gnawing worm, and, strong asshe may be in courage, must shorten her existence but for the supportand the balm she may receive from the ministers of our faith. It wascruel and selfish of you, Philip, to leave her, a lone woman, to bear upagainst your absence, and at the same time oppressed with so fatal aknowledge."
"You have convinced me, holy father," replied Philip. "I feel that Ishould before this have made you acquainted with this strange history.I will now state the whole of the circumstances which have occurred, butwith little hope your advice can help me in a case so difficult, and ina duty so peremptory, yet so perplexing."
Philip then entered into a minute detail of all that had passed, fromthe few days previous to his mother's death until the present time, andwhen he had concluded, he observed,--"You see father, that I have boundmyself by a solemn vow--that that vow has been recorded and accepted,and it appears to me that I have nothing now to do but to follow mypeculiar destiny."
"My son, you have told us strange and startling things--things not ofthis world--if you are not deceived. Leave us now. Father Mathias andI will consult upon this serious matter; and, when we are agreed, youshall know our decision."
Philip went upstairs to see Amine; she was still in a deep sleep. Hedismissed the servant, and watched by the bedside. For nearly two hoursdid he remain there, when he was summoned down to meet the two priests.
"We have had a long conversation, my son," said Father Seysen, "uponthis strange and perhaps supernatural occurrence. I say _perhaps_, forI would have rejected the frenzied communications of your mother as theimaginings of a heated brain; and for the same reason I should have beenequally inclined to suppose that the high state of excitement that youwere in at the time of her death may have disordered your intellect; butas Father Mathias positively asserts that a strange, if notsupernatural, appearance of a vessel did take place, on his passagehome, and which appearance tallies with and corroborates the legend--ifso I may call it--to which you have given evidence, I say that it is notimpossible but that it is supernatural."
"Recollect that the same appearance of the Phantom Ship has beenpermitted to me and to many others," replied Philip.
"Yes," replied Father Seysen; "but who is there alive of those who sawit but yourself? But that is of little importance. We will admit thatthe whole affair is not the work of man, but of a superiorintelligence."
"Superior, indeed!" replied Philip. "It is the work of Heaven!"
"That is a point not so easily admitted; there is another power as wellas that which is divine--that of the devil!--the arch-enemy of mankind!But as that power, inferior to the power of God, cannot act without hispermission, we may indirectly admit that it is the will of Heaven thatsuch sighs and portents should be allowed to be given on certainoccasions."
"Then our opinions are the same, good Father."
"Nay, not exactly, my son. Elymas, the sorcerer, was permitted topractise his arts--gained from the devil--that it might be proved, byhis overthrow and blindness, how inferior was his master to
the DivineRuler; but it does not therefore follow that sorcery generally waspermitted. In this instance it may be true that the evil one has beenpermitted to exercise his power over the captain and crew of that ship,and, as a warning against such heavy offences, the supernaturalappearance of the vessel may be permitted. So far we are justifiable inbelieving. But the great questions are, first, whether it be yourfather who is thus doomed? and, secondly, how far you are necessitatedto follow up this mad pursuit, which, it appears to me--although it mayend in your destruction--cannot possibly be the means of rescuing yourfather from his state of unhallowed abeyance? Do you understand me,Philip?"
"I certainly understand what you would say, Father; but--"
"Answer me not yet. It is the opinion of this holy Father as well as ofmyself, that, allowing the facts to be as you suppose, the revelationsmade to you are not from on high, but the suggestions of the devil tolead you into danger and ultimately to death; for if it were your task,as you suppose, why did not the vessel appear on this last voyage, andhow can you (allowing that you met her fifty times) have communicationwith that, or with those which are but phantoms and shadows, things notof this world? Now, what we propose is, that you should spend aproportion of the money left by your father in masses for the repose ofhis soul, which your mother, in other circumstances, would certainlyhave done; and that, having so done, you should remain quietly on shoreuntil some new sign should be given to you which may warrant oursupposing that you are really chosen for this strange pursuit?"
"But my oath, Father--my recorded vow!"
"From that, my son, the holy Church hath power to absolve you; and thatabsolution you shall receive. You have put yourself into our hands, andby our decision you must be guided. If there be wrong, it is we, andnot you, who are responsible; but, at present, let us say no more. Iwill now go up, and so soon as your wife awakens, prepare her for yourmeeting."
When Father Seysen had quitted the room, Father Mathias debated thematter with Philip. A long discussion ensued, in which similararguments were made use of by the priest; and Philip, although notconvinced, was at least doubtful and perplexed. He left the cottage.
"A new sign--a corroborative sign," thought Philip; "surely there havebeen signs and wonders enough. Still it may be true that masses for myfather's soul may relieve him from his state of torture. At all events,if they decide for me I am not to blame. Well, then, let us wait for anew sign of the divine will--if so it must be;" and Philip walked on,occasionally thinking on the arguments of Father Seysen, and oftenerthinking of Amine.
It was now evening, and the sun was fast descending. Philip wanderedon, until at last he arrived at the very spot where he had knelt downand pronounced his solemn vow. He recognised it: he looked at thedistant hills. The sun was just at the same height; the whole scene,the place, and the time were before him. Again Philip knelt down, tookthe relic from his bosom and kissed it. He watched the sun--he bowedhimself to the earth. He waited for a sign, but the sun sank down, andthe veil of night spread over the landscape. There was no sign; andPhilip rose and walked home towards the cottage, more inclined thanbefore to follow the suggestions of Father Seysen.
On his return, Philip went softly up stairs and entered the room ofAmine, whom he found awake and in conversation with the priests. Thecurtain was closed, and he was not perceived. With a beating heart heremained near the wall at the head of the bed.
"Reason to believe that my husband has arrived!" said Amine, in a faintvoice. "Oh tell me, why so?"
"His ship is arrived, we know; and one who had seen her said that allwere well."
"And why is he not here, then? Who should bring the news of his returnbut himself? Father Seysen, either he has not arrived or he is here--Iknow he must be, if he is safe and well. I know my Philip too well.Say! is he not here? Fear not, if you say yes; but if you say no, youkill me!"
"He is here, Amine," replied Father Seysen--"here and well."
"O God! I thank you; but where is he? If he is here, he must be inthis room, or else you deceive me. Oh, this suspense is death!"
"I am here," cried Philip, opening the curtains.
Amine rose with a shriek, held out her arms, and then fell senselessback. In a few seconds, however, she was restored, and proved the truthof the good Father's assertion, "that joy does not kill."
We must now pass over the few days during which Philip watched the couchof his Amine, who rapidly regained her strength. As soon as she waswell enough to enter upon the subject, Philip narrated all that hadpassed since his departure; the confession which he had made to FatherSeysen, and the result. Amine, too glad that Philip should remain withher, added her persuasions to those of the priests, and, for some littletime, Philip talked no more of going to sea.