Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 15 (34 page)

 
          
“I
understand now; you intend to hold me to my bond, and see in me nothing but
your guardian. You are as ignorant as headstrong, if you think this possible. I
gave up that foolish delusion long ago, and tried to show you a truer, happier
tie. But you were blind and would not
see,
deaf and
would not hear, hardhearted and would not relent.”

 
          
“You
bade me be a marble woman, with no heart to love you, only grace and beauty, to
please your eye and do you honor. Have I not obeyed you to the letter?”

 
          
Coldly
and quietly she spoke, yet kept her eyes on the ground, her hand on her breast,
as if to hold some rebellious emotion in check. As the soft voice reechoed the
words spoken long ago,
all that
scene came back to
Yorke, and made the present moment doubly hard to bear.

 
          
“You
have, you have! God forgive me for the wrong I did you. I tried to atone for
it, but I have failed, and this is my punishment.”

 
          
He
spoke humbly, despairingly, and his proud eyes filled as he turned his face to
hide the grief he was ashamed to show. Cecil stood with bent head, and
face
half hidden by her falling hair, but though she
trembled, she compelled voice and features to obey her with the ease which long
practice had made second nature.

 
          
“If
you had cared to teach me a gentler lesson, I would have gladly learned it; but
you did not, and having done your best to kill love in my heart, you should not
reproach me if you are disappointed now, or wonder that I turn to others for
the affection without which none of us can live.”

 
          
“I
will not reproach; I do not wonder, but I cannot give you up. Cecil, there is
still time to relent, and to return; let me tell you how hard I have tried to
make you love me, in spite of my own decree, and perhaps my patience, my
penitence, may touch your heart. I will not urge my right as husband, but plead
as lover. Will you listen?”

 
          
“Yes.”

 
          
Cecil
stole a glance at him as she spoke, and a curious smile touched her lips,
though she listened with beating heart to words poured out with the rapidity of
strong emotion.

 
          
“When
you came to me, I kept you because you were like your mother, whom I loved, and
who deserted me. That loss embittered my whole nature, and I resolved to make
your life as loveless as my own. It seemed a small atonement for a great wrong,
and believing that it was just to visit the sins of the parents upon the
children, I carried out my purpose with a blind persistency that looks like
madness to me now. But the sentiment I had forsworn revenged itself upon me,
and while trying to cheat you of love, it crept into my own heart, and ruled me
like a tyrant. Unconsciously, I loved you long before I knew it; that was why I
disliked Alfred, why I was so willing to marry you, and why I was so
disappointed when others found in you the same want that I felt yet would not
own. The night I watched beside you, fearing you would never wake, I found the
key to my own actions, saw my delusion, and resolved to conquer it.”

 
          
He
paused for breath, but Cecil did not speak, though the hidden face brightened,
and the heart fluttered like a caged bird.

 
          
“I
could not conquer it, for it was my master. You can never know how hard I
tried, how rebellious my pride was, or how firm my purpose, but all failed, and
I was forced to own that my happiness, my peace, depended upon you. Then I
determined to undo my six years’ work, to teach you how to love, and make my
wife mine in heart as in name. I gave myself wholly to the task of winning you;
I studied your tastes, gratified your whims, and tried every art that can
attract a woman. You were tired of the old home, and I gave you a new one; you
enjoyed Germain’s society, and I let him come, in defiance of my better
judgment; you had some pride in my talent, for your sake I displayed it; you
loved pleasure, and I labored to supply it freely; I even tried to lure you
with splendor and bribe you with diamonds. But I bad lost my skill, and all my
efforts were in vain, for no veritable marble woman could have received my
gifts more coldly, or ignored my unspoken love more utterly than you. One smile
like those you daily gave Germain would have repaid me, but you never shed it
over me; one frank word or affectionate look would have brought me to your
feet; but all the compassion, confidence, and tenderness were given to
others—for me you had only indifference, gratitude, and respect. Cecil, I have suffered
one long torment since I married you, longing for my true place, yet not daring
to claim it, lest I should rouse aversion and not love.,,

 
          
Still
with her head bent, her face hidden, and her hand upon her heart, she stood,
and Yorke went on, more passionately than before.

 
          
“I
know that I have forfeited my right to expect affection or demand obedience,
but I implore you to forget this infatuation, and retrieve this rash step. You
do not know what you are doing, for this will mar your whole life, and make
mine worthless. Cecil, come back to me, and let me try again to win you! I will
work and wait for years, will be your servant, not your master, will bear and
suffer anything if I may hope to touch your heart at last. Is this impossible?
Do you love Alfred more than reputation, home, or husband?”

 
          
“I
never have loved Alfred.”

 
          
“Then
who, in God’s name, is this man to whom you will cling through everything?”

 
          
“My father.”

 
          
She
looked up now, and turned on him a face so full of hope and joy, that he stood
dumb with astonishment as she drew nearer and nearer, with outstretched hands,
beaming eyes, and tender voice.

 
          
“O
Bazil! I know all; the past is forgiven, your long labor and atonement are
over, and there is no need for you to work or wait, because my heart always has
been yours.”

 
          
If
the dead Cecilia had come to him in the youthful guise she used to wear, it
would not have more amazed and startled him than did these words from his
wife’s lips, and not till he felt her clinging to him so trustfully, so
tenderly, did he fully realize his happiness.

 
          
“What
does it mean? Why keep this from me so long? Did you not see I loved you,
Cecil?”

 
          
“It
means that I, too, tried to conquer myself, and failed. Till very lately, I was
not sure you loved me, and I could not bear to be repulsed again.”

 
          
“Ah,
there is the thorn that has vexed you! You are a true woman, in spite of all my
training,
and you could not forget that hour, so I had
to suffer till you were appeased. Is it possible that my innocent, artless girl
could lay such plots, and wear a mask so long, that she might subdue her
guardians
proud heart?”

 
          
“Everything
is possible to a woman when she loves, and you were only conquered with your
own weapons, Bazil. Let me make my confession now, and you shall see that you
have not suffered, worked, and waited all alone. When you bade me renounce
love, I found it very hard to kill the affection that had grown warmer than you
chose to have it. But I did my best to seem what you desired me to be, and your
lessons of self-control stood me in good stead. I chilled and hardened myself
rigorously; I forced myself to be meek, cold, and undemonstrative to you,
whatever I might be to others; I took opium, that I might forget my pain, and
feign the quietude I could not feel, and I succeeded beyond my hopes. When you
asked me to marry you, I was half prepared for it, because Alfred insisted that
you loved me. I wished to believe it; I wanted to stay, and would have frankly
owned how dear you were to me, if you had not insisted upon offering me
protection, but no love. That night I resolved to show you your mistake, to
prove to you that you had a heart, and teach you a better lesson than any you
had taught your pupil.”

 
          
“You
have done so, little dearest, and I am your scholar henceforth. Teach me
gently, and I will study all my days. What more, Cecil?”

 
          
“I
found it very hard to resist when you grew so kind, and should have been sure
you loved me, but for Germain. Why you let him come, and showed no displeasure
at my delight in his society, was so inexplicable to me that I would not yield
till 1 was satisfied. Last night my father told me all, and if anything could
make you dearer, it would be the knowledge of the great debt we owe you. My
generous, patient husband, how can I thank you as I ought?”

 
          
He
showed her how, and for several minutes they stood in the sunshine, very
silent, very happy, while the waves broke softly on the shore, as if all storms
had passed away forever. Yorke spoke first.

 
          
“One
thing more, Cecil, lest I forget it, for this sudden happiness has turned my
brain, I think, and nothing is clear to me but that you are mine. What does
this mean?” And drawing out the card, he held it before her eyes, with some
anxiety dimming the brightness of his own.

 
          
She
took it, tore it up, and as the white shreds went flying away on the wind, she
said smiling, “Let all your jealous fears go with them, never to come back
again. What a miserable night you must have had, if you believed that I had
left you for Alf.”

 
          
“An
awful night, Cecil,” and he told her all the wanderings and his fears.

 
          
“I
will not say that you deserved it for harboring such a thought, because you
have suffered enough, and it is so much sweeter to forgive than to reproach.
But you must promise never to be jealous anymore, not even of poor Alf
/ ”

 
          
The
happy-hearted laugh he had so longed to hear gladdened his ear, as she looked
up at him with the arch expression that made her charming.

 
          
‘Til
try,” he answered meekly, “but keep him away till I am very sure you love me,
else I shall surely fling him into the sea, as I nearly did the night Sir
Walter and the marquise tormented me. Why did he come? And why did you meet him
yesterday?”

 
          
“He
came to tell me that he had replaced my image with a more gracious one, for
when he heard that I was married, he cast me off, and found consolation in his
pretty cousin’s smiles. His was a boyish love, ardent but short-lived, and he
is happy now, with one who loves him as I never could have loved. Hearing of
our masque, he planned to come in disguise, and tell his story as a stranger,
that he might the better watch its effect on me. But I knew him instantly, and
we enjoyed mystifying those about us, till I forgot him in my own
mystification. You did not wish him to come again, so I wrote to him, saying
good-bye, and begging him to go at once. The disobedient boy had more to tell
me, and sent word he should be on the beach at five. I knew he would come to
the house unless I met
him,
and fearing a scene—for
you have grown very tragic, dear—I went. He delayed so long that he had only
time to hurry across to the lower depot for the last train, leaving his boat to
Father and myself.”

 
          
“What
misery the knowledge of this would have spared
me!
Why did you not tell me, when we were together yesterday, that
Alfred had forgotten you?”

 
          
“I
meant to do so, but you gave me no opportunity, for you were so restless and
strange I was half afraid of you. Besides, since you had confessed jealousy, I
hoped you would confess love also, and I waited, thinking it would come.”

 
          
“How
could I own it, when you had confessed you loved a younger man than I, and my
eyes were blinded by Alfreds silence and your own?”

 
          
“I
did not tell you that it was my father. Did he betray me?”

 
          
She
looked perplexed, and Yorke half ashamed, as he confessed another proof of his
affection.

 
          
“It
was I, Cecil, who came to you in the garden, who questioned you, and was
stabbed to the heart by your answers. Good heavens, how blind I’ve been!”