"Oh! yes, my dear! Of that fact there can be no doubt. Why do you question it?"
"She told me once that Mr. Murray had won her heart."
It was the first time Edna had mentioned his name since her return, and it brought a faint flush to her cheeks.
"That was a childish whim which she has utterly forgotten. A woman of her temperament never remains attached to a man from whom she is long separated. I do not suppose that she remembered St. Elmo a month after she ceased to meet him. I feel a.s.sured that she loves Gordon as well as she can love any one. She is a remarkably sweet- tempered, unselfish, gladsome woman, but is not capable of very deep, lasting feeling."
"I will go away at once. This is Sat.u.r.day, and I will start to New York early Monday morning. Mr. Leigh is weaker than I ever imagined he could be."
The outline of her mouth hardened, and into her eyes crept an expression of scorn, that very rarely found a harbor there.
"Yes, my dear; although it grieves me to part with you, I know it is best that you should not be here, at least for the present. Agnes is visiting friends at the North and when she returns, Gordon and Gertrude will remove to their new house. Then, Edna, if I feel that I need you, if I write for you, will you not come back to me? Dear child, I want your face to be the last I look upon in this world."
She drew the pastor"s shrunken hand to her lips, and shook her head.
"Do not ask me to do that which my strength will not permit. There are many reasons why I ought not to come here again; and, moreover, my work calls me hence, to a distant field. My physical strength seems to be ebbing fast, and my vines are not all purple with mellow fruit. Some cl.u.s.ters, thank G.o.d! are fragrant, ripe, and ready for the wine-press, when the Angel of the Vintage comes to gather them in; but my work is only half done. Not until my fingers clasp white flowers under a pall, shall it be said of me, "Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep." In coelo quies! The German idea of death is to me peculiarly comforting and touching, "Heimgang"--GOING HOME. Ah, sir! humanity ought to be homesick; and in thinking of that mansion beyond the star-paved pathway of the sky, whither Jesus has gone to prepare our places, we children of earth should, like the Swiss, never lose our home- sickness. Our bodies are of the dust--dusty, and bend dustward; but our souls floated down from the sardonyx walls of the Everlasting City, and brought with them a yearning maladie du pays, which should help them to struggle back. Sometimes I am tempted to believe that the joys of this world are the true lotos, devouring which, mankind glory in exile, and forget the Heimgang. Oh! indeed, "here we have no continuing city, but seek one to come." Heimgang! Thank G.o.d!
going home for ever!"
The splendor of the large eyes seemed almost unearthly as she looked out over the fields, where in summers past the shout of the merry reapers rose like the songs of Greek harvesters to Demeter! Nay, nay, as a hymn of grat.i.tude and praise to Him who "feedeth the fowls of the air," and maketh the universe a vast Sarepta, in which the cruse never faileth the prophets of G.o.d. Edna sat silent for some time, with her slender hands folded on her lap, and the pastor heard her softly repeating, as if to her own soul, those lines on "Life":
"A cry between the silences, A shadow-birth of clouds at strife With sunshine on the hills of life; Between the cradle and the shroud, A meteor"s flight from cloud to cloud!"
Several hours later, when Mr. Leigh returned to the study, he found Edna singing some of the minister"s favorite Scotch ballads; while Gertrude rested on the lounge, half propped on her elbow, and leaning forward to dangle the cord and ta.s.sel of her robe de chambre within reach of an energetic little blue-eyed kitten, which, with its paws in the air, rolled on the carpet, catching at the silken toy. The governess left the piano, and resumed her mending of the contents of the clothes-basket.
In answer to some inquiries of Mr. Hammond, Mr. Leigh gave a brief account of his travels in Southern Europe; but his manner was constrained, his thoughts evidently preoccupied. Once his eyes wandered to the round, rosy, dimpling face of his beautiful child- wife, and he frowned, bit his lip, and sighed; while his gaze, earnest and mournfully anxious, returned and dwelt upon the weary but serene countenance of the orphan.
In the conversation, which had turned accidentally upon philology and the MSS. of the Vatican, Gertrude took no part; now and then glancing up at the speakers, she continued her romp with the kitten.
At length, tired of her frolicsome pet, she rose with a half- suppressed yawn, and sauntered up to her husband"s chair. Softly and lovingly her pretty little pink palms were pa.s.sed over her husband"s darkened brow, and her fingers drew his hair now on one side, now on the other, while she peeped over his shoulder to watch the effect of the arrangement.
The caresses were inopportune, her touch annoyed him. He shook it off, and, stretching out his arm, put her gently but firmly away, saying, coldly:
"There is a chair, Gertrude."
Edna"s eyes looked steadily into his, with an expression of grave, sorrowful reproof--of expostulation; and the flush deepened on his face as his eyes fell before her rebuking gaze.
Perhaps the young wife had become accustomed to such rebuffs; at all events she evinced neither mortification nor surprise, but twirled her silk ta.s.sel vigorously around her finger, and exclaimed:
"Oh, Gordon! have you not forgotten to give Edna that letter, written by the gentleman we met at Palermo? Edna, he paid your book some splendid compliments. I fairly clapped my hands at his praises- -didn"t I, Gordon?"
Mr. Leigh drew a letter from the inside pocket of his coat, and, as he gave it to the orphan, said with a touch of bitterness in his tone:
"Pardon my negligence; probably you will find little news in it, as he is one of your old victims, and you can guess its contents."
The letter was from Sir Roger; and while he expressed great grief at hearing, through Mr. Manning"s notes, that her health was seriously impaired, he renewed the offer of his hand, and asked permission to come and plead his suit in person.
As Edna hurriedly glanced over the pages, and put them in her pocket, Gertrude said gayly, "Shame on you, Gordon! Do you mean to say, or, rather to insinuate, that all who read Edna"s book are victimized?"
He looked at her from under thickening eyebrows, and replied with undisguised impatience:
"No; your common sense ought to teach you that such was not my meaning or intention. Edna places no such interpretation on my words."
"Common sense! Oh, Gordon, dearie! how unreasonable you are! Why, you have told me a thousand times that I had not a particle of common sense, except on the subject of juleps; and how, then, in the name of wonder, can you expect me to show any? I never pretended to be a great shining genius like Edna, whose writings all the world is talking about. I only want to be wise enough to understand you, dearie, and make you happy. Gordon, don"t you feel any better? What makes your face so red?"
She went back to his chair, and leaned her lovely head close to his, while an anxious expression filled her large blue eyes.
Gordon Leigh realized that his marriage was a terrible mistake, which only death could rectify; but even in his wretchedness he was just, blaming only himself--exonerating his wife. Had he not wooed the love of which, already, he was weary? Having deceived her at the altar, was there justification for his dropping the mask at the hearthstone? Nay, the skeleton must be no rattling of skull and crossbones to freeze the blood in the sweet laughing face of the trusting bird.
Now her clinging tenderness, her affectionate humility, upbraided him as no harsh words could possibly have done. With a smothered sigh he pa.s.sed his arm around her, and drew her closer to his side.
"At least my little wife is wise enough to teach her husband to be ashamed of his petulance."
"And quite wise enough, dear Gertrude, to make him very proud and happy; for you ought to be able to say with the sweetest singer in all merry England:
"But I look up and he looks down, And thus our married eyes can meet; Unclouded his, and clear of frown, And gravely sweet.""
As Edna glanced at the young wife and uttered these words, a mist gathered in her own eyes, and collecting her sewing utensils she went to her room to pack her trunk.
During her stay at the parsonage she had not attended service in the church, because Mr. Hammond was lonely, and her Sabbaths were spent in reading to him. But her old a.s.sociates in the choir insisted that, before she returned to New York, she should sing with them once more.
Thus far she had declined all invitations; but on the morning of the last day of her visit, the organist called to say that a distinguished divine, from a distant State, would fill Mr. Hammond"s pulpit; and as the best and leading soprano in the choir was disabled by severe cold, and could not be present, he begged that Edna would take her place, and sing a certain solo in the music which he had selected for an opening piece. Mr. Hammond, who was pardonably proud of his choir, was anxious that the stranger should be greeted and inspired by fine music, and urged Edna"s compliance with the request.
Reluctantly she consented, and for the first time Duty and Love seemed to signal a truce, to shake hands over the preliminaries of a treaty for peace.
As she pa.s.sed through the churchyard and walked up the steps, where a group of Sabbath-school children sat talking, her eyes involuntarily sought the dull brown spot on the marble.
Over it little Herbert Inge had spread his white handkerchief, and piled thereon his Testament and catechism, laying on the last one of those gilt-bordered and handsome pictorial cards, containing a verse from the Scriptures, which are frequently distributed by Sabbath- school teachers.
Edna stooped and looked at the picture covering the blood-stain. It represented our Saviour on the Mount, delivering the sermon, and in golden letters were printed his words:
"Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged; and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again."
The eyes of the Divine Preacher seemed to look into hers, and the outstretched hand to point directly at her.
She trembled, and hastily kissing the sweet red lips which little Herbert held up to her, she went in, and up to the gallery.
The congregation a.s.sembled slowly, and as almost all the faces were familiar to Edna, each arrival revived something of the past. Here the flashing silk flounces of a young belle brushed the straight black folds of widow"s weeds; on the back of one seat was stretched the rough brown hand of a poor laboring man; on the next lay the dainty fingers of a matron of wealth and fashion, who had entirely forgotten to draw a glove over her sparkling diamonds.
In all the splendor of velvet, feathers, and sea-green moire, Mrs.
Montgomery sailed proudly into her pew, convoying her daughter Maud, who was smiling and whispering to her escort; and just behind them came a plainly-clad but happy young mechanic, a carpenter, clasping to his warm, honest heart the arm of his sweet-faced, gentle wife, and holding the hand of his rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed, three-year old boy, who toddled along, staring at the brilliant pictures on the windows.
When Mr. Leigh and Gertrude entered there was a general stir, a lifting of heads and twisting of necks, in order to ascertain what new styles of bonnet, lace, and mantle prevailed in Paris.
A moment after Mrs. Murray walked slowly down the aisle, and Edna"s heart seemed to stand still as she saw Mr. Murray"s powerful form.
He stepped forward, and while he opened the door of the pew, and waited for his mother to seat herself, his face was visible; then he sat down, closing the door.
The minister entered, and, as he ascended the pulpit, the organ began to breathe its solemn welcome. When the choir rose and commenced their chorus, Edna stood silent, with her book in her hand, and her eyes fixed on the Murrays" pew.
The strains of triumph ceased, the organ only sobbed its sympathy to the thorn-crowned Christ, struggling along the Via Dolorosa, and the orphan"s quivering lips parted, and she sang her solo.