CHAPTER XXVIII.SHADOWS
ELLA TO PHILIP D’ARCY.
ELLA TO PHILIP D’ARCY.
ELLA TO PHILIP D’ARCY.
The Retreat, September —, 18—.
Forgiveme for what I am about to write. Indeed, I feel that I am performing a duty, even though my dear mother is ignorant of this step. I must, however, add, that I have the full approbation of one who never fails to judge rightly—I mean our good, sensible friend, Mary Mildmay. Dear Mr. D’Arcy, esteeming and respecting you above all men living, as I do, you will think it strange, when I tell you that I have come to the conclusion, seriously and advisedly, that I canneverbe your wife; and, believe me, this resolution isirrevocable. As a favor, I implore you not to attempt to change my determination. It would beutterly fruitless. Would you know my reasons? They are many.
When you honored me, by asking my hand, I was a mere child. I am now a woman, and must exert the prerogative of my sex—that of choice—in a matter which concerns my own happiness, and your future welfare. Know, then, that I am inspired to say to you, that, in marrying me, you willpass by your destiny. The impression is so strong that I cannot, if I would, shake it off; but must obey, as if a voice from heaven had spoken. Do you not know, too, that I have sworn never to forsake my beloved mother in her sorrow and her loneliness? And can I falsify my oath? In order to remove all further doubt from your mind, know, likewise, that it is not tomethat you owe your life. Poor little Ella nursed you tenderly, it is true, through your convalescence; but it was her dear mother who recalled you, by the magnetism of her health-producing touch, from the trance of death; and, in so doing, she herself nearly perished. If I have yet another reason for thus writing—thatI must ever preserve profoundly secret.
One parting favor I request: let this make no difference. Come to us as before. Be still a friend—prove thus to me that I have your pardon—for—give—forget.Yes, forget all, except that I shall never cease to pray for your happiness, and that
I am, as ever,
Your affectionate friend,
Ella.
My readers may readily imagine how highly I approved my young friend’s dignified and womanly letter. I had never thought them suited either in years or in tastes. Ella, lovely, sweet, innocent, intelligent, was yet scarcely the companion required by a man of D’Arcy’s intellect and superior mind. Their temperaments, too, were similar, each being outwardly cold, reserved, calm, unimpulsive. Now I have invariably found that the happiest unions proceed from similarity of taste, but diversity of temperament. I was therefore satisfied as to the wisdom of my Ella’s decision. We had now been staying about a fortnight in this lovely place, where D’Arcy, on the plea of very pressing business at Washington, had excused himself from escorting us. He had, however, sent his confidential servant with us, as courier, having telegraphed to his housekeeper to have all in readiness on our arrival at “The Retreat.” And in truth the house was furnished with a luxury only to be attained by the union of refined taste with great wealth in itsowner. We discerned the ever-presiding hand of affection in the recently-arrived harp and piano, and in the works of modern literature, and late numbers of periodicals which filled the shelves, and encumbered the tables of the sitting-rooms. Some men never remember anything—D’Arcy had that double memory of heart and head which never forgets the most minute arrangement or least matured intention. Poor Evelyn, humiliated, heart-broken at the wicked deception which had been practiced upon her, loathing her position of reputed wife to such a villain, was glad to hide her burning sense of shame in complete solitude, happy even, that D’Arcy, in respectful sympathy, delicately kept aloof for a time. The latter had not yet replied to Ella’s letter, but in about ten days he wrote to Evelyn a few lines, expressing the fear that business might detain him another month at Washington, but that the moment he could hope for a few days’ recreation, he would visit his friends at “The Retreat.” He hinted a fear that he had alarmed herself and her sweet Ella, and asked pardon if his uncontrollable indignation had caused him to forget for the first time what is due to the presence of ladies. This slight allusion was the only one he made to having received Ella’s letter of dismissal. Strange Being, and unlike all others, I thought!—
And the days passed onward, and Evelyn was made acquainted by her daughter that her engagement with D’Arcy was at an end, and the sad mother carefully scrutinized each look and movement of her child—for with the exaggeration of love, she could ill believe that one who had been chosen by Philip D’Arcy as his bride, could live without him, and be happy. So she tenderly watched lest the delicate rose should fade from that young cheek, lest the soft blue eyes should look dim, and lack their wonted lustre. It did strike me that the young girl’s step was less elastic, and that she more frequently than was her wont, sought the solitude of her chamber. But I persuaded Evelyn that the shock experienced by poor Ella, on the discovery of Sir Percy’s perfidious conduct, and her sympathy for her mother’s now blighted life, sufficiently accounted for this apparent change in her.
And now the glorious Indian Summer pervades the atmosphere with a glowing and intense heat, the heavens wear a deeper tint of azure, the forests clothed in their Autumn foliage, varying from the palest shade of gold, and the softest green, to the richest and most brilliant scarlet, and the deepest crimson, remind you of the trees in the fabled garden of Aladdin, whose branches were pendant with the weight of rubies, emeralds, topaz and other preciousstones, so wonderfully gorgeous are the November tints of the North American forests, so unlike anything ever beheld in the Old World. It seems almost as if nature, prophetic of coming decay, would array herself for the last time in her gayest and richest attire, and like Cleopatra of old queen it even on her couch of death.
And as one fine evening we sat in the verandah, enjoying the fresh breezes, and looking on the deep and rapid Hudson, we observed the splendid large steamer stop opposite the landing, and a few passengers enter the small boat which rowed towards shore. Listlessly we watched, soothed by the quiet beauty of the scene. A quarter of an hour may possibly have elapsed, when hearing the door open, we turned gladly to perceive and joyfully welcome Philip D’Arcy.