Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 20 (27 page)

 
          
Full
of this purpose, he went to his tryst one golden August afternoon, intent on
seeing March
First, that
he might go to Ariel armed
with her father’s consent.
But March was out upon the sea,
where he often floated aimlessly for hours, and Southesk found no one but
Stern, busily burnishing the great reflectors until they shone again.

 
          
“Where
is Ariel?” was the young man’s second question, though usually it was the
First.

 
          
“Why
ask me, when you know better than
I
where to find her,” Stern answered harshly, as he frow ned over the bright
mirror that reflected both his own and the happy lovers face; and too
lighthearted to resent a rude speech, Southesk went smiling awav to find the
girl, waiting for him in the chasm.

 
          
“What
pretty piece of work is in hand, to-day, busy creature?” he said, as he threw
himself down beside her w ith an air of supreme content.

 
          
“I’m
stringing these for you, because you carrv the others so constantly they will
soon be worn out,” she answered, busying herself with a redoubled assiduity,
for something in his manner made her heart beat fast and her color vary. He saw
it, and fearing to agitate her by abruptly uttering the ardent words that
trembled on his lips, he said nothing for a moment, but leaning on his arm,
looked at her with lovers eyes, till Ariel, finding silence more dangerous than
speech, said hastilv, as she glanced at a ring on the hand that was idly
playing w ith the many-colored shells that strewed her lap: “This is a curious
old jewel; are those your initials on it?”

 
          
“No,
my fathers;” and he held it up for her to see.

 
          
“R.
M., where is the S. for Southesk?” she asked, examining it with girlish
curiositv.

 
          
“I
shall have to tell vou a little story all about myself in order to explain
that. Do you care to hear it?”

 
          
“Yes,
your stories are always pleasant; tell it, please.”

 
          
“Then,
you must know that I was born on the long voyage to
India
, and nearly died immediately after. The
ship was wrecked, and my father and mother were lost; but, by some miracle, my
faithful nurse and I were saved. Having no near relatives in the world, an old
friend of my father’s adopted me, reared me tenderly, and dying, left me his
name and fortune.”

 
          
“Philip
Southesk is not your true name, then?”

 
          
“No;
I took it at my good old
friends
desire. But you shall
choose which name you will bear, when you let me put a more precious ring than
this on the dear little hand I came to ask you for. Will you marry Philip
Southesk or Richard Marston, my Ariel?”

 
          
If
she had leaped down into the chasm the act would not have amazed him more than
the demonstration which followed these playful, yet tender words. A stifled
exclamation broke from her, all the color died out of her face, in her eyes
grief deepened to despair, and when he approached her she shrunk from him with
a gesture of repulsion that cut him to the heart.

 
          
“What
is it? Are you ill? How have I offended you? Tell me, my darling, and let me
make my peace at any cost,” he cried, bewildered by the sudden and entire
change that had passed over her.

 
          
“No,
no; it is impossible. You must not call me that. I must not listen to you. Go —
go at
once,
and never come again. Oh, why did I not
know this sooner?” and, covering up her face, she burst into a passion of
tears.

 
          
“How
could you help knowing that I loved you when I showed it so plainly — it seemed
hardly necessary to put it into
words.
Why do you
shrink from me with such abhorrence? Explain this strange change, Ariel. I have
a right to ask it,” he demanded distressfully.

 
          
“I
can explain nothing till I have seen my father. Forgive me. This is harder for
me to hear than it ever can be for you,” she answered through her grief, and in
her voice there was the tender-
est
regret, as well as
the firmest resolution.

 
          
“You
do not need your father to help you. Answer whether you love me, and that is
all I ask. Speak, I conjure you.” He took her hands and made her look at him.
There was no room for doubt; one look assured him, for her heart spoke in her
eyes before she answered, fervently as a woman, simplv as a child:

 
          
“I
love you more than I can ever tell.”

 
          
“Then, why this grief and terror?
What have I said to
trouble you? Tell me that, also, and I am content.”

 
          
He
had drawn her toward him as the sweet confession left her lips, and was already
smiling with the happiness it gave him; but Ariel banished both smile and joy
by breaking from his hold, pale and steady as if tears had calmed and
strengthened her, saying, in a tone that made his heart sink with an ominous
foreboding of some unknown ill:

 
          
“I
must not answer you without my father’s permission. I have made a bitter
mistake in loving you, and I must amend it if I can. Go now, and come again
to-morrow; then I can speak and make all clear to you. No, do not tempt me with
caresses; do not break my heart with reproaches, but obey me, and whatever
comes between us, oh, remember that I shall love you while I live.”

 
          
Vain
were all his prayers and pleadings, questions and commands: some power more
potent than love kept her firm through the suffering and sorrow of that hour.
At last he yielded to her demand, and winning from her a promise to set his
heart at rest earlv on the morrow, he tore
himself
away, distracted bv a thousand vague doubts and dreads.

 
          
A
SLEEPLESS NIGHT, an hour or two of restless pacing to and fro upon the beach,
then the impatient lover was away upon his fateful errand, careless of
observation now, and rowing as he had never rowed before. The rosy flush of
early day shone over the island, making the grim rocks beautiful, and Southesk
saw in it a propitious omen; but when he reached the lighthouse a sudden fear
dashed his sanguine hopes, for it was empty. The door stood open — no fire
burned upon the hearth, no step sounded on the stairs, no voice answered when
he called, and the dead silence daunted him.

 
          
Rapidly
searching every chamber, shouting each name, and imploring a reply, he hurried
up and down like one distraught, till but a single hope remained to comfort
him. Ariel might be waiting at the chasm, though she had bid him see her lather
first. Bounding over the cliffs, he reached the dearest spot the earth held for
him, and looking down saw only desolation. The ladder w as gone, the vines torn
from the walls, the little tree lay prostrate; every green and lovely thing
w'as crushed under the enormous stones that some ruthless hand had hurled upon
them, and all the beauty of the rock was utterly destroyed as if a hurricane
had swept over it.

 
          
“Great heavens!
who
has done this?”

 
          
“I
did.”

 
          
Stern
spoke, and standing on the opposite side ol the chasm,
^r
egarded
Southesk with an expression of mingled exultation, hatred, and defiance, as if
the emotions which had been so long restrained had found a vent at last.

 
          
“But
why destroy what Ariel loved?” demanded the young man, involuntarily retreating
a step from the fierce figure that confronted him.

 
          
“Because
she has done with it, and no other shall enjoy what she has lost.”

 
          
“Done
with it,” echoed Southesk, forgetting everything but the fear that oppressed
him. “What do you mean? Where is she? For God’s sake end this horrible
suspense.”

 
          
“She
is gone, never to return,” and as he answered Stern smiled a smile of bitter
satisfaction in the blow he was dealing the man he hated.

 
          
“Where
is March?”

 
          
“Gone with her.”

 
          
“Where
are they gone?”

 
          
“I
will never tell you.”

 
          
“When did they go, and why?
Oh!
answer
me!”

 
          
“At dawn, and to shun you.”

 
          
“But
why let me come for weeks and then fly me as if I brought a curse with me?”

 
          
“Because
you are what you are.”

 
          
Questions
and answers had been too rapidly exchanged to leave time for anything but intense
amazement and anxiety. Stern’s last words arrested Southesk’s impetuous
inquiries and he stood a moment trying to comprehend that enigmatical reply.
Suddenly he found a clue, for in recalling his last interview with Ariel, he
remembered that for the first time he had told her his father’s name. The
mystery was there — that intelligence, and not the avowal of his
love,
was the cause of her strange agitation, and some
unknown act of the father’s was now darkening the son’s life. These thoughts
flashed through his mind in the drawing of a breath, and with them
came
the recollection of Ariel’s promise to answer him.

 
          
Lifting
the head that had sunk upon his breast, as if this stroke fell heavily, he
stretched his hands imploringly to Stern, exclaiming:

 
 
          
“Did
she leave no explanation for me, no word of comfort, no farewell? Oh!
be
generous, and pity me; give me her message and 1 will go
away, never to disturb you any more.”

 
          
“She
bade me tell you that she obeyed her father, but her heart was yours forever,
and she left you this.”

 
          
With
a strong effort at self-control, Stern gave the message, and slowly drew from
his breast a little parcel, which he flung across the chasm. It fell at
Southesks feet, and tearing it open a long, dark lock of hair coiled about his
fingers with a soft caressing touch, reminding him so tenderly of his lost
love, that for a moment he forgot his manhood, and covering up his face, cried
in a broken voice:

 
          
“Oh!
Ariel, come back to me — come back to me!”

 
          
“She
will never come back to you; so cast yourself down among the ruins yonder, and
lament the ending of your love dream, like a romantic boy, as you are.”

 
          
The
taunting
speech,
and the scornful laugh that followed
it calmed Southesk better than the gentlest pity. Dashing away the drops he
turned on Stern with a look that showed it was fortunate the chasm parted the
tw o men, and answered in a tone of indomitable resolve:

 
          
“No,
I shall not lament, but find and claim her as my own, even if I search the
world till I am
grev,
and a thousand obstacles be
between us. I leave the ruins and the tears to you, for I am rich in hope and
Ariel’s love.”

 
          
Then
thev parted, Southesk full of the energy of youth, and a lover’s faith in
friendly fortune, sprang down the clitts, and shot away across the glittering
bay on his long search, but Stern, w ith despair for his sole companion, flung
himself on the hard bosom of the rocks, struggling to accept the double
desolation which came upon his life.

 
          
“An
earlv row and an earlv ride without a moments rest between. Why, Mr. Southesk,
we shall not dare to call you
dolce far niente
any more,” began Miss
Lawrence, as she came rustling out upon the wide piazza, fresh from her morning
toilette, to find Southesk preparing to mount his fleetest horse; but as he
turned to bow silently the smile vanished from her lips, and a keen anxiety
banished the gracious sweetness from her face.

 
          
“Good
heavens, what has happened?” she cried, forgetting her self-betrayal in alarm
at the haggard countenance she saw.

 
          
“I
have lost a very precious treasure, and I am going to find it. Adieu;” and he
was gone without another word.

 
          
Miss
Lawrence was alone, for the gong had emptied halls and promenades of all but
herself
, and she had lingered to caress the handsome horse
till its master came. Her eye followed the reckless rider until he vanished,
and as it came back to the spot where she had caught that one glimpse of his
altered face, it fell upon a little case of curiously-carved and scented Indian
wood. She took it up, wondering that she had not seen it fall from his pocket
as he mounted, for she knew it to be his, and opening it, found the key to his
variable moods and frequent absences of late. The string of shells appeared
first, and, examining it with a woman’s scrutiny, she found letters carved on
the inside of each. I'en rosy shells — ten delicate letters, making the name
Ariel March. A folded paper came next, evidently a design for a miniature to
form a locket for the pretty chain, for in the small oval, drawn with all a
lover’s skill, was a young girl’s face, and underneath, in Southesk’s hand, as
if written for his eye alone, the words, “My Ariel.” A long, dark lock of
hair,
and a little knot of dead flowers were all the case
held beside.

 
          
“This
is the mermaid old Jack told me of, this is the muse Southesk has been wooing,
and this is the lost treasure he has gone to find.”

 
          
As
she spoke low to herself, Helen made a passionate gesture as if she would tear
and trample on the relics of this secret love, but some hope or purpose checked
her, and concealing the case, she turned to hide her trouble in solitude,
thinking as she went:

 
          
“He
will return for this, till then I must wait.”

 
          
But
Southesk did not return, for the lesser loss was forgotten in the greater, and
he was wandering over land and sea, intent upon a fruitless quest. Summer
passed, and Helen returned to town still hoping and waiting with a woman’s
patience for some tidings of the absentee.

           
Rumor gossiped much about the young
poet — the eccentricities of genius — and prophesied an immortal work as the
fruit of such varied and incessant travel.

 
          
But
Helen knew the secret of his restlessness, and while she pitied his perpetual
disappointment she rejoiced over it, sustaining herself with the belief that a
time would come when he would weary of this vain search, and let her comfort
him. It did come; for, late in the season, when winter gaieties were nearlv
over, Southesk returned to his old haunts, so changed that curiosity went hand
in hand with sympathy.

 
          
He
gave no reason for it but past illness; yet it was plain to see the maladv of
his mind. Listless, taciturn, and cold, with no trace of his former energv
except a curiously vigilant expression of the eye and a stern folding of the
lips, as if he was perpetuallv looking for something and perpetuallv meeting
with disappointment. This was the change which had befallen the once gav and
debonair
Philip Southesk.

 
          
Helen
Lawrence was among the first to hear of his return, and to welcome him, for,
much to her surprise, he came to see her on the second
dav
,
draw n by the tender recollections of a past w ith which she was associated.

 
          
Full
of the deepest joy at beholding him again, and the gentlest pity for his
dejection, Helen had never been more charming than during that interview.

 
          
Eager
to assure herself of the failure w hich his lace betrayed, she soon inquired,
with an air and accent of the friendliest interest:

 
          
“Was
your search successful, Mr. Southesk? You left so suddenly, and have been
so
long aw ay I hoped the treasure had been found, and that you had been busy
putting that happy summer into song for us.”

 
          
The
color
rose
to Southesk’s forehead, and lading lelt him
paler than before, as he answered with a vain attempt at calmness.

 
          
“I
shall never find the thing I lost, and never put that summer into song, for it
was the saddest of my life;” then, as il anxious to change the direction of her
thoughts, he said abruptly, “I am on another quest now, looking for a little
case w hich I think I dropped the day I left you, but whether at the hotel or
on the road I cannot tell. Did you hear anything of such a trifle being found?”

 
          
“No.
Was it of much value to you?”

 
          
“Of
infinite value now, for it contains the relics of a dear friend lately lost.”

 
          
Helen
had meant to keep what she had found, but his last words changed her purpose,
for a thrill of hope shot through her heart, and, turning to a cabinet behind
her, she put the case into his hand, saying in her softest tone:

 
          
“I
heard nothing of it because I found it, believed it to be yours, and kept it
sacred until you came to claim it, for I did not know where to find you.”

 
          
Then,
with a woman’s tact, she left him to examine his recovered treasure, and,
gliding to an inner room, she busied herself among her flowers till he rejoined
her.

 
          
Sooner
than she had dared to hope he came, with signs of past emotion on his face, but
much of his old impetuosity of manner, as he pressed her hand, saying warmly: