CHAPTER XIV
SORROW'S CROWN OF SORROW
"Whatever happens!" The words rang through Daffodil's brain like aknell. There was something to happen. She had been so happy, soserenely, so trustingly happy. For her youthful inexperience had nottaught her doubt. The cup of love had been held to her lips and shehad drank the divine draught fearlessly, with no thought of bitterdregs at the bottom.
Grandmere came and unpinned the veil; it was too fine and precious anarticle to be tumbled about.
"Let the rest be," she said. "He is coming and I want to be as I wasthen."
Then they left her lying there on the bed, the gold of her young lifeturning slowly to dross. Some curious prescience told her how it wouldbe.
She heard the low voices in the other room. There was crying too. Thatwas her mother. Felix asked questions and was hushed. Was it hours orhalf a lifetime! All in her brain was chaos, the chaos of beliefstriving with disbelief that was somehow illumined but not with hope.
He came at last. She heard his step striding through the room and noone seemed to speak to him. He came straight to her, knelt at thebed's side, and took her cold hands in his that were at fever heat.
"My poor darling!" he said brokenly. "I should not have learned tolove you so well, I should not have asked for your love. But in thisnew country and beginning a new life it seemed as if I might bury theold past. And you were the centre, the star of the new. Perhaps if Ihad told you the story----"
"Tell it now," she made answer, but it did not sound like her voice.She made no effort to release her hands though his seemed to scorchthem.
"You can hardly understand that old life in London. There is nothinglike it here. I was with a lot of gay companions, and all we thoughtof was amusement. I had a gift for acting and was persuaded to takepart in a play. It was a success. I was flattered and feted. Womenmade much of me. I was only a boy after all. And the leading lady,some seven years my senior, fascinated me by her attention and herflatteries. It did turn my head. I was her devoted admirer, yet it wasnot the sort of love that a man knows later on. How it came about, whyshe should have done such a thing I cannot divine even now, for atthat time I was only a poor, younger son, loaded with debts, thoughmost of my compeers were in the same case. But she married me withreally nothing to gain. She kept to the stage. I was tired of it andgave it up, which led to our first dissension. She fancied she saw inme some of the qualities that might make a name. And then--she wasangry about the child. We bickered continually. She was very fond ofadmiration and men went down to her. After a little I ceased to bejealous. I suppose it was because I ceased to care and could onlythink of the wretched blunder I had made and how I could undo it. Wehad kept the marriage a secret except from her aunt and a few friends.She would have it so. The child was put out to nurse and the companywas going to try their fortunes elsewhere. I would not go with her. Ina certain way I had been useful to her and we had a little scene. Iwent to my father and asked him for money enough to take me toAmerica, where I could cut loose from old associates and begin a newlife. He did more. He paid my debts, but told me that henceforward Imust look out for myself as this was the last he should do for me."
"And now he asks you to return?" There was a certainty in her voiceand she was as unemotional as if they were talking of some one else.
"It is true that now I am his only living son. Late last autumn LordVeron, his wife and two sons, with my next brother, Archibald, wereout for an afternoon's pleasure in a sailboat when there came up anawful blow and a sudden dash of rain. They were about in the middle ofthe lake. The wind twisted them around, the mast snapped, they foundafterward that it was not seaworthy. There was no help at hand. Theybattled for awhile, then the boat turned over. Lady Veron never rose,the others swam for some time, but Archibald was the only one who camein to shore and he was so spent that he died two days later. I wonderthe awful blow did not kill poor father. He was ill for a long while.My wife went to him then and took the child and had sufficient proofto establish the fact of the marriage, and her aunt had always been afoster mother to the boy. There must be some curious fascination abouther, though I do not wonder father felt drawn to his only remainingson. Archibald's two children are girls and so are not in the entail.Hurst Abbey would go to some distant cousins. And she offered to cometo America and find me. She has succeeded," he ended bitterly.
There was a long pause. He raised his head, but her face was turnedaway. Did she really care for him? She was taking it all so calmly.
"You will go," she said presently.
"Oh, how can I leave you? For now I know what real love is like. Andthis is a new country. I have begun a new life, Daffodil----"
"But I cannot be your wife, you see that. Would you give up yourfather's love, the position awaiting you for a tie that could never besanctified? You must return."
"There is my son, you know. I shall not matter so much to them. Itshall be as you say, my darling. And we need not stay here. It is abig and prospering country and I know now that I can make my way----"
It was not the tone of ardent desire. How she could tell she did notknow, but the words dropped on her heart like a knell. Apart from thesacrifice he seemed ready to make for her there was the cruel factthat would mar her whole life, and an intangible knowledge that hewould regret it.
"You must go." Her voice was firm.
Did she love so deeply? He expected passionate upbraiding and thendespairing love, clinging tenderness. One moment he was wild to havethe frank, innocent sweetness of their courtship; he was minded totake her in his arms and press bewildering kisses on the sweet mouth,the fair brow, the delicately tinted cheek, as if he could not giveher up. Then Hurst Abbey rose before him, his father bowed with theweight of sorrow ready to welcome him, the fine position he couldfill, and after all would the wife be such a drawback? There were manymarriages without overwhelming love. If his father accepted her--andfrom his letter he seemed to unreservedly.
He rose from his kneeling posture and leaned over her. She looked inher quaint wedding dress and marble paleness as if it was death ratherthan life.
"You can never forgive me." His voice was broken with emotion, thoughhe did not realize all the havoc he had made. "But I shall dream ofyou and go on loving----"
"No! no!" raising her hand. "We must both forget. You have otherduties and I must rouse myself and overlive the vision of a life thatwould have been complete, perhaps too exquisite for daily wear. It mayall be a dream, a youthful fancy. Others have had it vanish aftermarriage. Now, go."
He bent over to kiss her. She put up her hand.
Was it really more anger than love?
"I wish you all success for your poor father's sake." She was going toadd--"And try to love your wife," but her whole soul protested.
He went slowly out of the room. She did not turn or make the slightestmotion. She heard the low sound of voices in the other room, his amongthem, and then all was silence. He had gone away out of her life.
Her mother entered quietly, came near, and took her in her arms.
"Oh, my darling, how could the good All Father, who cares for hischildren, let such a cruel thing happen? If that woman had come amonth ago! And he fancied being here, marrying, never to go back, madehim in a sense free. But he should not have hidden the fact. I cannever forgive him. Yet one feels sorry as well that he should havemisspent so much of his life."
"Help me take off my gown, mother. No one must ever wear it again. Andwe will try not to talk it over, but put it out of our minds. I amvery tired. You won't mind if I lie here and see no one except you whoare so dear to me."
It was too soon for any comfort, that the mother felt as she movedabout with lightest tread. Then she kissed her and left her to hersorrow.
Mr. Carrick had been very much incensed and blamed the suitorseverely. Andsdell had taken it with such real concern and regret andapparent heart-break that the father felt some lenity might be allowedin thought, at least.
Grandad was v
ery bitter and thought condign punishment should overtakehim.
"And instead," said warm-hearted Norah indignantly, "he turns into agreat lord and has everything to his hand. I could wish his wife wasten times worse and I hope she'll lead him such a life that he'llnever see a happy day nor hour, the mean, despicable wretch."
In the night tears came to Daffodil's relief, yet she felt theexposure had come none too soon. With her sorrow there was a sense ofdeception to counteract it. He had not been honest in spite ofapparent frankness, and it hurt her to think he had accepted herverdict so readily. Hard as it would have been to combat hisprotestations in her moment of longing and despair, any woman wouldrather have remembered them afterward.
Daffodil kept her bed for several days. She felt weak and distraught.Yet she had her own consciousness of rectitude. She had not been soeasily won, and she had been firm and upright at the last. There wasno weak kiss of longing to remember. The one he had given her in thechurch could be recalled without shame. For a few moments she had beenin a trance of happiness as his wife. And putting him away she mustalso bury out of sight all that had gone before.
She took her olden place in the household, she went to church after aweek or two and began to see friends again, who all seemed to stand ina little awe of her. The weather was lovely. She was out in the gardenwith her mother. She rode about with her father. But she felt as ifyears had passed over her and she was no longer the lightsome girl.
It made her smile too, to think how everything else was changing. Theold log houses were disappearing. Alleyways were transformed intostreets and quite noteworthy residences were going up. General O'Haraand Mayor Craig enlarged their glass house and improved the quality ofglass. She remembered when her father had tacked some fine cloth overthe window-casing and oiled it to give it a sort of transparency sothat they could have a little light until it was cold enough to shutthe wooden shutters all the time, for glass was so dear it could notbe put in all the windows. Not that it was cheap now, the processeswere cumbersome and slow, but most of the material was at hand.
Mrs. Forbes was a warm and trusty friend through this time of sorrow.She would not let Daffodil blame herself.
"We all liked Mr. Andsdell very much, I am sure. I can count up half adozen girls who were eager enough to meet him and who were sending himinvitations. He really was superior to most of our young men in theway of education and manners. And, my dear, I rather picked him outfor you, and when I saw he was attracted I made the captain write to afriend of his at Williamsburg and learn if there was anything seriousagainst him, and everything came back in his favor. Of course none ofus suspected a marriage. He talked frankly about his family when therewas need, but not in any boastful way. And this is not as disgracefulas some young men who have really had to leave their country for theircountry's good. But, my dear, if it had not been for this horridmarriage you would have gone off in style and been my lady."
"But maybe none of it would have happened then;" with a rather wansmile.
"True enough! But you're not going to settle down in sober ways andwear hodden gray. And it's not as if you had been jilted by some gaygallant who had married another girl before your eyes as ChristySpeers' lover did. And she found a much better man without any longwaiting, for Everlom has never succeeded in anything and now he hastaken to drink. Don't you suppose Christy is glad she missed herchance with him!"
"It won't be that way, though. I think now he will make a fine man andwe shall hear nothing disgraceful about him, if we ever hear at all,which I pray may never come to pass. For I want to put it out of mymind like a story I have read with a bad ending."
"You are a brave girl, Daffodil."
"I don't know why I should be really unhappy. I have so many to loveme. And it doesn't matter if I should never marry."
Mrs. Forbes laughed at that, but made no reply. Here was the younglieutenant, who was taking heart of grace again, though he did notpush himself forward.
On the whole it was not an unhappy summer for Daffodil. She found agreat interest in helping Felix though he was not a booky boy. Alwayshis mind seemed running on some kind of machinery, something thatwould save time and labor.
"Now, if you were to do so," he would say to his father, "you see itwould bring about this result and save a good deal of time. Whydoesn't some one see----"
"You get through with your books and try it yourself. There's plentyof space in the world for real improvements."
Daffodil went up to the old trysting place one day. How still andlonesome it seemed. Had the squirrels forgotten her? They no longerran up her arm and peered into her eyes. He was at Hurst Abbey andthat arrogant, imperious woman was queening it as my lady. Was allthis satisfying him?
It was the right thing to do even if his motives were not of thehighest. To comfort his father in the deep sorrow, and there was hislittle son.
"No," she said to herself, "I should not want to come here often. Theold remembrances had better die out."
She had written to her guardian explaining the broken marriage, and hewondered a little at the high courage with which she had accepted allthe events. He had sent her a most kindly answer. And now came anotherletter from him.
There had been inquiries about leasing some property at Allegheny.Also there were several improvements to be made in view ofestablishing a future city. His health would not admit of the journeyand the necessary going about, so he had decided to send his partner,Mr. Bartram, whom she must remember, and whom he could trust to studythe interests of his ward. And what he wanted to ask now was anothervisit from her, though he was well aware she was no longer the littlegirl he had known and whose brightness he had enjoyed so much. He wasnot exactly an invalid, but now he had to be careful in the winter andstay in the house a good deal. Sometimes the days were long andlonesome and he wondered if out of the goodness of her heart she couldspare him a few months and if her parents would spare her.Philadelphia had improved greatly and was now the Capitol of thecountry, though it was still staid and had not lost all of its oldnice formality. Couldn't she take pity on him and come and read tohim, talk over books and happenings, drive out now and then and belike a granddaughter as she was to his friend Duvernay?
"Oh, mother, read it," and she laid the letter in her mother's lap.Did she want to go? She had been so undecided before.
Bernard Carrick had received a letter also. Mr. Bartram was to startin a short time, as it seemed necessary that some one should lookafter Daffodil's estate and he wished to make her father co-trustee ifat any time he should be disabled, or pass out of life. He coulddepend upon the uprightness and good judgment of Mr. Bartram in everyrespect. And he put in a very earnest plea for the loan of hisdaughter awhile in the winter.
"Oh, I should let her go by all means," declared Mrs. Forbes. "You seethat unlucky marriage service has put her rather out of gear withgayeties and when she comes back she will be something fresh and theywill all be eager to have her and hear about the President and LadyWashington. And it will cheer her up immensely. She must not grow oldtoo fast."
Daffodil went to tea at Mrs. Ramsen's and there was to be a card partywith some of the young men from the Fort. Mrs. Forbes and the captainwere at tea and the Major's wife. They talked over the great rush ofeverything, the treasures that were turning up from the earth, theboats going to and fro. Booms had not come in as a word applicable tothis ferment, but certainly Pittsburg had a boom and her people wouldhave been struck dumb if the vision of fifty or a hundred years hadbeen unrolled. Lieutenant Langdale came in to the card playing. Theyreally were very merry, and he thought Daffodil was not so muchchanged after all, nor heartbroken. He was very glad. And then heasked and was granted permission to see her home. He wanted to saysomething sympathetic and friendly without seeming officious, yet hedid not know how to begin. They talked of his mother, of Archie andhow well he was doing.
"And at times I wish I had not enlisted," he remarked in a ratherdissatisfied tone. "Not that the feeling of heroism has died
out--itis a grand thing to know you stand ready at any call for yourcountry's defence, but now we are dropping into humdrum ways exceptfor the Indian skirmishes. And it gets monotonous. Then there's nochance of making money. I didn't think much of that, it seemed to merather ignoble, but now when I see some of those stupid fellowsturning their money over and over,--and there's that Joe Sanders; doyou remember the wedding feast and his going off to Cincinnati withhis new wife, who was a very ordinary girl?" and Ned gave an almostbitter laugh. "Now he owns his boat and is captain of it and tradesall the way to New Orleans."
"Oh, yes." She gave a soft little laugh as the vision rose before her.
"I remember how sweet you looked that night. And I had to be dancingattendance on her sister. How many changes there have been."
"Yes; I suppose that is life. The older people say so. Otherwiseexistence would be monotonous as you said. But you did admire militarylife."
"Well, I like it still, only there seem so few chances ofadvancement."
"But you wouldn't want real war?"
"I'd like an opportunity to do something worth while, or else go backto business."
If she had expressed a little enthusiasm about that he would havetaken it as an interest in his future, but she said--
"You have a very warm friend in Captain Forbes."
"Oh, yes;" rather languidly.
Then they talked of the improvements her father had made in the house.There had been two rooms added before the wedding. And the trees hadgrown so, the garden was bright with flowering shrubs.
"I wonder if I might drop in and see you occasionally," he said ratherawkwardly, as they paused at the gate. "We used to be such friends."
"Why, yes;" with girlish frankness. "Father takes a warm interest inyou two boys."
Her mother sat knitting. Barbe Carrick hated to be idle. Her fatherwas dozing in his chair.
"Did you have a nice time, little one?"
"Oh, yes. But I am not an enthusiastic card player. I like the brightbits of talk and that leads to carelessness;" laughing. "Mrs. Remsenis charming."
Then she kissed them both and went her way.
"She is getting over her sorrow," admitted her father. "Still I thinka change will be good for her, only we shall miss her very much."
"She has been a brave girl. But it was the thought of his insincerity,his holding back the fact that would have rendered him only the merestacquaintance. She has the old French love of honor and truth."
"And the Scotch are not far behind."
Lieutenant Langdale tried his luck one evening. Mr. Carrick welcomedhim cordially, and Felix was very insistent that he should share theconversation. He wanted to know about the Fort and old Fort Duquesne,and why the French were driven out. Didn't they have as good right asany other nation to settle in America? And hadn't France been asplendid friend to us? And why should the French and English becontinually at war?
"It would take a whole history to answer you and that hasn't beenwritten yet," subjoined his father.
Ned had stolen glances at the fair girl, who was sitting undergrandmother Bradin's wing, knitting a purse that was beaded, and shehad to look down frequently to count the beads. Yes, she had grownprettier. There was a fine sweetness in her face that gave poise toher character. Had she really loved that detestable Englishman?
They made ready for Mr. Bartram. Not but what there were tolerableinns now, but taking him in as a friend seemed so much morehospitable. Daffodil wondered a little. He had not made much of animpression on her as a girl. Sometimes he had fallen into good-naturedteasing ways, at others barely noticed her. Of course she was such achild. And when the talk that had alarmed her so much and inflamed herchildish temper recurred to her she laughed with a sense of wholesomeamusement. She knew now a man must have some preference. The oldFrench people betrothed their children without a demur on their part,but here each one had a right to his or her own most sacred feelings.
Mr. Bartram was nearing thirty at this period. Daffodil felt that shereally had forgotten how he looked. He had grown stouter and now had afirm, compact figure, a fine dignified face that was gentle and kindlyas well, and the sort of manliness that would lead one to depend uponhim whether in an emergency or not.
Her father brought him home and they all gave him a cordial welcomefor M. de Ronville's sake first, and then for his own. He had therefined and easy adaptiveness that marked the true gentleman.
They talked of the journey. So many improvements had been made andtowns had sprung up along the route that afforded comfortableaccommodations. Harrisburg had grown to be a thriving town and was theseat of government. He had spent two very entertaining days within itsborders.
"Yes, M. de Ronville was in failing health, but his mind was clear andbright and had gone back to the delights and entertainments of hisearly youth. He had a fine library which was to go largely to thatstarted in the city for the general public. He kept a great deal ofinterest in and ambition for the city that had been a real home.Through the summer he took many outside pleasures, but now thewinters confined him largely to the house.
"I do what I can in the way of entertainment, but now that I have allthe business matters to attend to, I can only devote evenings to himand not always those, but friends drop in frequently. He has been likea father to me and I ought to pay him a son's devotion and regard,which it is not only my duty, but my pleasure as well. But he has awarm remembrance of the little girl he found so entertaining."
"Was I entertaining?" Daffodil glanced at him with a charming laugh."Everybody, it seems, was devoted to me, and my pleasure was beingconsulted all the time. Mrs. Jarvis was so good and kindly. And Jane!Why, it appears now as if I must have been a spoiled child, andspoiled children I have heard are disagreeable."
"I do not recall anything of that. And Jane is married to asober-going Quaker and wears gray with great complacency, but shestumbles over the thees and thous. Our new maid is very nice,however."
"Oh, that is funny. And Jane was so fond of gay attire and bows in myhair and shoulder knots and buckles on slippers. Why, it is all like ahappy dream, a fairy story," and her eyes shone as she recalled hervisit.
They still kept to the old living room, but now there was an outsidekitchen for cooking. And some logs were piled up in the widefire-place to be handy for the first cold evening.
"M. de Ronville talked about an old chair that came from France," Mr.Bartram said as he rose from the table. "His old friend used to sit init----"
"It's this," and Daffodil placed her hand on the high back. "Won't youtake it? Yes, great-grandfather used it always and after he was gone Iused to creep up in it and shut my eyes and talk to him. What curiousthings you can see with eyes shut! And I often sat here on the armwhile he taught me French."
"I suppose it is sacred now?" He looked at it rather wistfully.
"Oh, you may try it," with her gay smile. "Father has quite fallenheir to it. Grandfather Bradin insists it is too big for him."
"I'm always wanting a chair by the light stand so that I can see toread or make fish-nets," said that grandfather.
The room was put in order presently and the ladies brought out theirwork. Daffodil saw with a smile how comfortably the guest adaptedhimself to the old chair while her father talked to him about the townand its prospects, and Allegheny across the river that was comingrapidly to the attention of business men. What a picture it made,Aldis Bartram thought, and, the pretty golden-haired girl glancing upnow and then with smiling eyes.