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Foxglove Manor, Volume II (of III). Robert W Buchanan
Читать онлайн.Название Foxglove Manor, Volume II (of III)
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Автор произведения Robert W Buchanan
Жанр Зарубежная классика
Издательство Public Domain
“Don’t!” she exclaimed. “For pity’s sake, be silent. You do not know what you are saying. I am not fit to become your wife.”
He moved a few steps from her, and waited until her wild, hysterical sobbing should have ceased. She commanded herself quickly, as it the wild outburst which she had not been able to control had terrified her. Then she rose, and would have left the room, but the young man stopped her.
“Edith,” he said, “surely you did not mean what you said just now, that you are not fit to become my wife?”
“Yes,” she replied quickly; “I did mean it.”
She was glad that her face, was turned from him, and that the room was in partial darkness. She was glad that she was able to steady her voice, and to give a direct reply.
He did not answer; she felt he was waiting for her to speak on.
“Even if two people love each other,” she said, trembling, “or only think they do, which is too often the case, they have no right to thoughtlessly contract that holy tie. There cannot be perfect happiness in this world without perfect spiritual communion. I know – I feel sure – that this does not exist between you and me.”
The young man flushed, and his brow contracted somewhat angrily.
“Take time to think it over,” he said quickly; “this is not your own heart that is speaking now. The seeds which that man, your clergyman, has been sowing in your heart have borne fruit. Religion is changing your whole nature. It is alienating you hopelessly from all to whom you are so dear; it is making you unjust, cruelly unkind, to yourself, but doubly so to others, under the shallow pretence that you are serving God!”
She did not interrupt him; but when he ceased, she put out her hand and said, quickly but firmly —
“Good night.”
“Good night,” he repeated. “It is so early, surely you are not going to-your room already? This is our last night together, remember.”
“I am so tired,” returned the girl, wearily. “I must get a good night’s rest, since I am to start early in the morning.”
“And you will not say another word?”
“I don’t know that there is anything more that I can say.”
“You are angry with me, Edith. Before you go, say at least that you forgive me.”
“I am not angry; indeed, I am glad you have spoken. I know now I should never have come here. I know I must never come again.”
So, without another word, they parted. Edith went up to her room. Walter sought his, and there he remained all the evening, sitting in the darkness, pondering over the unaccountable change which had taken place in the girl.
Yes, she was changed; but was it hopeless, and altogether unexpected? Might she not, with gentle care, be freed from this hateful influence of the Church? Walter believed that might be so. Already he seemed to see light through the cloud, and to trace the secret of this man’s influence over her. Edith was imaginative and highly fanatical; he had appealed to her imagination. Being a High Church clergyman, he had employed two powerful agents – colour and form. He had scattered the shrine at which she worshipped with soft and durable perfumes, and had set up sacred symbols; and he had said, “Kneel before these; cast down all your worldly wishes and earthly affections.” She, being intoxicated, as it were, had yielded to the spell. It was part of his plan, thought Walter, that she must neither marry nor form any other earthly tie; for was it not through her, and such as her, that his beloved Church was able to sustain its full prestige? The Church must reign supreme in her heart, as it had done in that of many another vestal; it was at the altar alone that her gifts of love and devotion must be burned. She must be sacrificed, as many others had been before her, and the Church would stand.
This was the young man’s true view of the case. He believed it, for he had learnt in his home to hate other worldliness; but though he fancied he saw the nature of the discord, he could not as yet perceive the directest means of cure.
The next morning, when Edith, looking very pale and weary, but still very pretty in her simple travelling costume, came down to breakfast, she was a little surprised to find Walter already there. His manner was kind and considerate, as it had always been, and he made no reference whatever to what had passed between them on the previous night. They sat and carried on a constrained but polite conversation; but both were glad when it was interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Hetherington. The old lady was filled with genuine regret at her niece’s sudden departure, and, while presiding at the breakfast-table, was so busy laying down plans for her speedy return that she did not notice that every morsel on Edith’s plate remained untouched, and that, while sipping her tea, her eyes wandered continually towards the window, as if anxiously watching for the cab which was to take her away. Walter noticed it with pain, and remained discreetly silent.
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