CHAPTER XII.SUSPENSE.
Uncertainty!Fell demon of our fears! The human soulThat can sustaindespair—endures notthee.—Anon.
Uncertainty!Fell demon of our fears! The human soulThat can sustaindespair—endures notthee.—Anon.
Uncertainty!Fell demon of our fears! The human soulThat can sustaindespair—endures notthee.—Anon.
Uncertainty!
Fell demon of our fears! The human soul
That can sustaindespair—endures notthee.—Anon.
A weary week passed away. Zuleime had written to Frank, and Carolyn, we already know, had despatched a letter to Archer. But the week had passed away, and no answer to either had come from Winchester. Had the sisters confided in each other, such mutual confidence might have soothed the soul-sickening anxiety ofoneat least. Carolyn would have known that some accidentmusthave prevented Frank Fairfax from receiving or answering the momentous letter of his youthful wife, and she would have felt that the same cause had probably operated in the case of Archer Clifton. But the sisters did not entrust their secrets to each other. Zuleime was withheld by her sacred promise. Carolyn by her pride. But the wife bore the pain of suspense far better than the maiden. The wife had perfect faith in her young husband, and knew that some adverse chance had hindered his getting or replying to her letter. The maiden knew that she had unjustly banished her lover. And she had no faith in the love that endureth all things. Carolyn had never suspected the depth of that calm, secure, habitual affection—which had from childhood grown—until now. While life and love and hope had flowed smoothly on, her emotions were serene and moderate. But now that the quiet stream had been stemmed by rocks and breakers, it was lashed into fury and roared in whirlpools. The calm sentiment rose to turbulent, maddening passion. Her days were restless, her nights sleepless, until, as the week wore away, her nerves were wrought to such severity of tension, that you might know that at the end of uncertainty, whether that werejoy or sorrow, they must alike suddenly give way. Towards the last of the week, she had privately besought her father to ride to Winchester, and see the detachment off, and bring her the last news of it. The request had been confidential—yet do you feel all that it had cost her haughty heart? During the absence of Mr. Clifton, suspense was wrought up to agony. Her days and nights were feverish, delirious, and so confused into each other, that she scarcely knew the fitful, disturbed visions of the night, from the wild and anxious broodings of the day. The day upon which her father was expected back, was the acme, the crisis of her suffering. Oblivious of pride and caution, careless of exposing herself to the malign sneers of Georgia, or the rude comments of the servants, she sat in the piazza, watching the road by which the carriage should come—one wild, anxious, despairing hope possessing her. “The drowning catch at straws”—and she, in her despair, had clutched one mad possibility, and clung to it, until to her weakened, confused, insane soul, it seemed a probability, and then almost a certainty. It was the hope that Clifton might return with her father! Oh, yes! That Clifton might resign his commission and come back to her. Oh! if indeed he loved her, as he had a thousand times sworn, if he sorrowed over their estrangement only half as much as she did, no hope of glory, no fear of disgrace would keep him back. The more she brooded over this, the more likely, the more certain it appeared to be. And she sat and gazed up the dim forest road.
The sun sank to the edge of the horizon, and lit up all the mountain tops with fire, and then went down. And when she could no longer see, she still sat and strained her ear to catch the distant sound of wheels.
The moon arose, and flooded all the mountain scenery with silver light, and flashed upon that distant bend of the river, until it seemed a silver lake, lying among the dark hills, and pointed the peaks of White Cliffs, until they stood up and glittered, like an enormous row of spears, against the deep blue sky.
At last, at last the very distant sound of wheels came faintly like a doubt to her ear, and faded away again. Then it came more distinctly, nearer, and a moving object appeared upon the road. And she knew indeed it was herfather’s carriage. She saw and recognized it in the moon light. It turned into the lawn gate, rolled rapidly around the circular drive, and swept swiftly up to the entrance, where it stopped. The steps were let down, the door opened, and old Mr. Clifton got out, followed by—no one.
Carolyn had bent eagerly, unconsciously forward; now she started up and caught her father’s hand, and gazed silently, imploringly into his face, for the news she could not ask for.
“The detachment has marched, my dear child! Marched the morning of the day upon which I reached Winchester, and two days before it was expected to have gone. So, you see, I could not get a sight of either Frank or Archer. They were thirty miles on their road before I reached the city. Can’t think what could have been the reason of the new order, to anticipate their departure by two days. However! cheer up! No use fretting, my dear! No use fretting! The family have supped long ago, of course—have they kept my supper hot for me? I am as hungry as an old wolf,” said the old man.
Carolyn did not hear him. Her hold relaxed upon his arm, her hands flew up to her head, and she turned, as one struck with sudden blindness, and tottered into the house. It was so dark in the shady piazza, screened from the moonbeams by interlacing cypress vines, that the old man did not see her state. He hastened into the house, where another awaited him with equal anxiety.
Zuleime’s private hope had been that Frank would seize the opportunity of Mr. Clifton’s visit, and confess his marriage, and invent some way of delivering her father from the toils of Major Cabell.
“What news, father?” she asked, meeting him in the hall.
“‘What news?’ Why, I am as hungry as a bear, my pet! That’s the news! I stopped to supper at L——. But, my life! They like to have poisoned me withfriedbeefsteaks and heavy biscuits and green coffee. Couldn’t touch a morsel, child! And now I am starved up to a savage pitch! What have you got for supper?”
“Turtle soup and old crusted port, among other things, father,” replied Zuleime, waving her own anxiety for the sake of satisfying him.
“Turtle soup!AndOLD CRUSTED PORT;” exclaimed the old man, in an ecstacy of delight. “Why, where on earth did they come from?”
“The turtle came from a ship at Norfolk, and was sent hither by Major Cabell, who added a dozen of port of his own importation,” said Zuleime, dying with anxiety to hear from Frank.
“Ah-h-h-h!Thatwas kind!He’sa fellow! He’ll make a magnificent husband and son-in-law, Zuleime! I hope you know how turtle soup should be made?”
“Father, I know it should be eaten quitehot, and it is on the table by this time. Come in.”
The old man needed no pressing, but went into the dining-room, and sat down at the table, with a face radiant with delight. Zuleime waited on him, although there was a servant in attendance. And when he had freely partaken of turtle soup, devilled crabs, a roasted fowl, etc., washed them down with port wine, she brought him a cup of fragrant Mocha coffee and his case of cigars. And he sipped the coffee with an air of infinite leisure, and then lit a cigar and puffed slowly away, as if eternity was before him.
“Father, what news from Winchester?” again asked Zuleime, though her hopes had fallen very low. “What news, dear father?”
“What’s that to you, my pet? Will you let me digest my supper in peace?”
Zuleime sat down, but looked so anxious, that her verylooksworried the old gentleman, and he said—
“Don’t you know, girl, that indigestion is very dangerous to a man of my time of life? It may bring on apoplexy! Don’t worry me!”
Zuleime veiled her anxious gaze, but even then the paleness of her cheeks annoyed her father, and he testily inquired—
“Now, what is it to you? I can understand Carolyn’s anxiety. I cannot comprehend yours at all! There, now. Go and send my wife to me!”
Zuleime arose to obey, but before she went, she threw her arms around his neck, and asked—
“Dearest father,onlytell me! Were our friends well? Have they gone? Did they send any message?”
“Only answer you three questions at a time! That is reasonable! However, I can answer all in one. I have not seen our friends. Their detachment left Winchester twelve hours before I reached there. And now I’ll tell you what I did not like to tell Carolyn, poor girl! Namely, that the detachment marched two days earlier than was intended, upon account of dispatches received from Fort ——, praying for speedy succor in a reinforcement. The savages have been massacreing and scalping there at a most tremendous rate! It is really a very dangerous service, Indian warfare! God grant that our young friends may return to us safe! Why don’t you go along and tell Georgia to come to me?”
Zuleime kissed her father, settled the cushion under his feet, and went on her errand. That dispatched, she sought her own chamber, and lay down to collect her thoughts. No letter or message from her husband, and her promise of secrecy in regard to her marriage, binding on her as ever. And next week she must give an answer to her father for Major Cabell. She was confident that one of two things had happened. Either her letter had never reached Frank, or else his answer had been lost. And by the transaction only one week’s respite had she gained for her father—for next week her refusal must be decided and final, and then—what might not the consequence be to him? These thoughts excited her mind, and kept her awake. And despite her determination to sleep, and her efforts to do so, she heard every passing hour strike. It was soon after one o’clock that she had fallen into a fitful slumber, when she was awakened by the sound of a gay, high voice, intermingling merry words and joyous laughter. Indeed, there seemed to be not only one, but many voices, talking and laughing in the most jocund manner. And strange—passing strange! it seemed to come from her sister’s room, which adjoined hers! She listened awhile; the words became fewer, but the laughter grew wilder! And then it struck upon her frightened senses that Carolyn was a maniac, talking, laughing to herself! Springing from her bed, and without even waiting to slip on a gown, she ran into the passage and knocked at her sister’s door, and attempted to push it open. It was locked on the inside, and all her efforts to force an entrance were vain, and all her entreaties for admission were answered by peals of unconsciouslaughter. At last she ran to her father’s door, and rapped loudly, exclaiming—
“Father, father! Get up! get up! Something, I am sure, has happened to Carolyn! Something dreadful! Get up! get up!”
The old man was hard to awaken, even by the efforts of Georgia, who was aroused at once, and came and opened the door for Zuleime! And all this time the sound of loud talk, high laughter, and wild snatches of song, as from several excited people, rather than from one, issued from Carolyn’s chamber. At length, by the united exertions of his wife and daughter, the fatigued and drowsy old gentleman was aroused and placed upon his feet, and made to
“Understand a horror in their words—If not the words.”
“Understand a horror in their words—If not the words.”
“Understand a horror in their words—If not the words.”
“Understand a horror in their words—
If not the words.”
He threw on his shawl gown and hastened to Carolyn’s door, which was instantly forced open.
And what a sight met their eyes!
There stood Miss Clifton arrayed in her gorgeous bridal costume, looking gloriously beautiful, though certainly as no bride ever looked before! The raging fever had given the brightness and richness of the carnation rose to her complexion, and imparted a supernatural light to her eyes, that burned and flashed, and seemed to strike fire as they sprang from one to the other of the intruders, with a mad, joyous, defiant glance!
The alarm of her father was unlimited, unspeakable! He darted from the room, and almost precipitated himself down the stairs in his haste to mount and dispatch a servant for the family physician. And while he was gone, Georgia and Zuleime, by coaxing and humoring the phantasy of the poor girl, succeeded in undressing her and putting her to bed—she still raving about her marriage, and sometimes breaking out into a wild laugh, and once telling Georgia thatshe, being a married woman, had no right or business to be officiating as bridesmaid.
It was near morning when the doctor came. After examining the state of the patient, he pronounced her disease to be brain fever, brought on by over-excitement of the nervous system. He wrote prescriptions, and remained with her untilthey were administered. And then he departed with a promise to return early in the forenoon.
Mrs. Clifton, of Hardbargain, was summoned, and lost no time in hastening to the sick room of her daughter-in-law, as she chose to call Carolyn.
For many days the struggle between life and death went on, and no one, not even the medical attendant, was able to form an opinion as to which power would eventually conquer.
Mrs. Clifton had taken her station by the bedside of the patient as permanent nurse, and she constantly refused to yield her post to any other person. And it was to her vigilant attention, quick perceptions, and intelligent treatment, that all the family ascribed the recovery of the girl. For the crisis came and passed, and Carolyn Clifton lived.
But no sooner was the patient pronounced out of danger, and the excitement of anxiety over, than the nurse herself fell ill. And Mrs. Clifton, exhausted, prostrated, entered her carriage, and was driven to Hardbargain.