The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1859-05-05


it was hard, very hard indeed
Excepting that letter, made no effort to de-
fend myself. did not dare write again, did
not dare seek an interview with Miss Estmere
GA, had l but dared but the blow was too
prostrating, it robbed me at once of mental
energy and moral courage. / could not ven
ture to bring my so loathed self into the pres.
ence of her idolized. To crown all, the very
first day that ventured out, and, pale, haggard,
| feeble, leaning on a friends arm, dragged my
lettering limbs along in search of the fresh air
| for which | languished, met Joscian Estmere,
and she passed me without the faintest sign of
recognition. Undoubtedly, then, it was all
over The vase whose precious contents had
once touched my lips was now irrevocably
dashed to pieces, and its nectar spilled. What
more then was to do2 ] had sacrificed nv
last kid upon the altar, but the deity deigned
me no rewarding oracle. Dumb were the
voices prophetic save with an eternally it
| Grated tdSctdte Ogni SpeJaplzd. After that was
mad, or, as my friends were pleased to call it,
reekless.p | gave pyself up to dissipation,
Afd was rapidly "going to the dogs," as the
phrase is, when my dearest friend-God bless
him came to the rescue, and spared me that
base exit. u
lie made me accompany him to Europe, and
encouraged me to endeavor, by study and trav-
ell, to purchase forgetfnlness. But there was no
Lethe water for me to quaf. We may forget
our greis, we may outgrow our loves, but we
| cannot eXtirpate the strumous faint of shame
| was careful enough observer, and studied
faithfully. Outwardly the promise was fair
enough, but in my veins, hot and piercing, like
the stab of the cholera-6end, Kissed the Dragon
blood | had drunken. The end of that state,
L knew we'll enough, was inevitable mad
ness, and though might repeatedly beat it off,
lighting manfully enough against it, | was
sadly sensible that it would eventually conquer
for | could feel its gradual but sure approach,
hear its footballs drawing nearer, as the con-
demned prisoner, deep down in his cold dun
| geon, catches the echoing sound of the execu-
toners steps, the harsh clang of the axe against
the walls, and the rustling of the priests robe,
| coming nearer nearer, nearer.
| have to thank Joscian Estmere that the
bitter shaft thus sharpened and aimed was not
finally launched. You remember that passage
in Miss Bronte's novel, where Jane Eyre is rep
resented as going out into the night, and then
and there hearing Rochester summoning her
to his side, and how she obeys it, with re-
hgious faith in the reality of this summons, as
not subjective impression, but an objective
fact 2 There is more in that than fancy, more
than mere spark of imagination struck off in
the fever Of composition. Call it what you will,
demoniacal or spiritual or sympathetic it is
true, deeply and solemnly true, and / believe
the day is not very far distant when such things
will be demonstrably true.
was in Southern Tyrol; it was the sunny side
of the mountains, and down below me there was
Italy. Already the grapes grew on great trellised
vines, as if the rich, ripe sun lent them so much
Of his exuberant strength, that they did not
need to be pruned. 1t was high noon. l had
walked since early morning, and now / needed
rest. seated myself by the roadside, a foun
tain at my elbow, murmuring, as RAINIER has
made it, about doing good in silence The
breeze, limiting of vineyards and olive groves
came up from the valleys, across the way was
tall image of Madonna, fixed in niche, and
with flowers at her feet, and above these Gods
blue sky. So rested, while first stout peas
ant came along, bowed to the image, spoke to
me kindly, and went on. And all the time the
bees were humming about me, among the bios
SONS that hung over my head. Then came u
dainty little Tyrolienne, with the brightest rosy
cheeks, and manipulated black hair done up in
ribbons. She bent knee before the shrine
made me shy courtesy, and passed on down
into the valley, chirruping just such heart
stirring song as Pippa sings beneath the sculp
tors window in Robert Browning's drama:
"Give her but excuse TO love you"
Then, as | sat there, suffering my eXpectan
thoughts to wander towards the fair land | was
entering, for the first time, not thinking Of her
then, | say, Joscan Estmere called me. You
have heard the clear note Of the plover, culver
ing atar off, yet seeming near you, as he bewail>
the lost sun on an April evening; that note sc
shrill, so plaintive, and waking in your breast
such sense of sadness and of yearning? Sc
the voice of Joscian Estmere came to my ears
calling me. pretend not to have distinguished
H., - Int hut e.
me; it implied a summons, and signifed she
had imperative need of me. So it was : can
not explain it reason but confutes me--so il
was and | had faith. did not hesitate. Pluck
ing one Italian flower from Madonna's vase,
thrust it into my notebook, and then, half in
awe, half in Joy, l turned my back upon the
sunny land, obeying the summons.
In less than month | was by the side Of
Joscian Estmere--in.my place.
81 knew you would come" said she, with a
quiet smile of content; then, as she held my
hand in hers, she gazed in my face a moment
aud murmured: How well you look-so brown
and stout, and man-Gke"
No wonder the contrast struck her. for her
hand was but feather-touch now, thin and
daphanous. Seeing how sadly | gazed at it.
she smiled, as she pointed to the dry flush on
each cheek and said:
IF am an invalid, have not lost all my
color yet"
Then, as she let her hand drop again upon
mine, she said
al am sorry that you did not come sooner,
Ned"
ooh, ,Iosciaui" And on my knees before
her, like sinner, whose stiff joints have the
first time bent in agony and supphcation, |
poured out to her all my love, my shame, my
madness, my despair She listened quietly,
letting drop that hand upon my head, with q
gently measured movement, as if she kept time
TO some heavens music, audible only to her
spiritualzed senses; and then, when / had fin
ished, and still bent before her, her arm crept
softly about my neck, drew me to her breast
softly, and she murmured:
! 81 know Ned, know. have been dream
ing it all out since l have been unwell, Just as
| you have told me- that is why so longed to
see you and oh, my darling, that is why I wish
ed you had come sooner; for then, Ned, do
not think | would have become so thin and
weak"
Thin and weak Oh, had that bullet been
but better aimed Would no victim do but
this So blind Why had not guessed this {?
The letter had not reached her, she did not see
me on the street, well-meaning friends of hers
and my own blind folly had done the rest Oh,
thou sorrow-Crowned, why had l not thought of
this? Why could | not guess that this little
tender flower had wrapped itself around me
forever, so that when / rudely and madly tore
myself away, had plucked it up by the roots
And nOw-not too late, oh no, not too late,
| for Mercy's sake, not too late Grant respite
oh Christ!
"Do not grieve, Ned, }" said Joscian, Z" do not
grieve. 1t seems great pity, but it is all for
the best. And may be / will get well again