The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1860-12-28
CHATTER II.


The coast of England was in sight. From
the time they left that hoyel, rescued by u
body of irregular cavalry, through their slow
and dangerous journey down to Calcutta
through all the dull monotony of the long
sea yOyngc-hc had never referred to her
confession. Ii was this silence which OPP
pressed her; It would have been so much more
endurablc to have talked upon the subject.
She often tried to lead the conversation up
the point, but he invariably turned it off,
and until the present moment she had not
found courage to approach 1t directly.
Yet she knew full well what he ielt.
In long watching beside his bed, through
that dangerous fever which he had at CAL
cutta-shc had often heard him, in the in.
tcnsity OF the deirium, cry horsist name,
till the word smotc her like II sharp sword.
Ono evening, rs she stood before him, he had
started up in his bed, and gazing wildly in
her face, and clasping her hands with hi.
burning grasp, he had uttered incohcrcnt
words his joy that Clara had come back to
him at let.
This was the violent uphcaving OF nature
pouring forth the deep feelings of the heart
like molten lava.but with returning strength
came proud endurance, beneath which those
feelings were hidden away.
She would sit for hours and watch him in
his ftful sleep. She knew he must always
hate her, yet she liked to feel that he rested
in her power as a helpless child. The vital
energy was wasted from his face the strong
arm she had clung to in that terrible flight
wasvcry weak and purposcless; the hands were
ncrvclcss which had freed her from the rui-
fans grasp;-and yet he looked so noble in
his weakness.
What was this feeling at her heart?
Was it conscience prompting her to make
the fullest rcpartiOn for the past?
She felt that was not the true reply, and
then she would start in terror from his bed
side. The thought was so fearful. What IL
Love should he his own avcngcr?
The principle her needy parents had taught
her in her youtli-that love was Il fiction,
murriagc result of worldly calculation
was growing into an utter ialschood. 1t had
all seemed very true when she made the ex-
ccllcnt match which had been so clcvcrly de-
yiscd for her, and she had lived quite con.
tentcdly in the enjoyment OF her wealth and
worldly position.
Yet surely there remained to her the sor-
rowful recollection Of that brave husband,
who died noble death, which might deliver
her from this fatal fascination. She strove
TO love him dead as she had never dreamed OF
loving him when living.
Then she forgot that no real sympathy had
ever existed between them, and dwclt only
ON his kind indulgence, which had been be-
slowed upon her as upon child, magniiying
il 10 the utmost. Yet, after all, they twain
were only parties to u contract, beauty for
wealth. She had acted her part faithfully
rs q wife, but her arthad never been asked
and never been given. 1herewas no deliver
ance for her in all this. The feeling which
wrstlcd with her was loye-irst lOye-with
all i,s intensity, first love, to be met with
shuilcring and endured with sorrow. ltwas
her sisters name which stole from his un-
conscious lips as she smoothcd his pillow
with trembling hands, and drew asldc tho
ruiIled hair from his burning brow.
But she had saved his life there was com.
fort in that. The doctors all Mld that her
careful nursing had ayailcd more than their
skill: in truth, they maryclled at the way
she had, as it were, instinc,iycly felt the
slightest changes in his condition. 1T last
they said the sea voyage, ut all hazard, was
the only hope ofsaying him. Ii lighted her
heart for the moment to lavish every comfort
tina, money could procure in the fitting up
of his cabin. lie was carried on board ON u
couch. too weak to know ofthc arrangements
that had been made.
There was change for the better from
the iirst day of his being at sea, yet his pro-
cress towards recovery was very slow. In
the depth of her heart she glad at this; for
the more service she could render, the more
the load on her soul was eased; il likewise
prolonged her privilege TO be near him, for
she felt, when he was fully recovered, that
the past must bc an everlasting bar between
them. She felt convinced of this, vet she
hoped against her conviction ;-saddest
logic!
lie had not entirely recovered his strength;
his cheeks were still thin and pale. She
knew il was only the golden rose Of the set.
. ting sun which flushed his face. as he 81,
near the bulwark, gazing on the last sunset
Of their voyage She might justly claim her
right Of care a little longer; he had no friends
near Liverpool. He must remain ut her
sisters house until his health was quite re-
stored. She was too blind to see that she
had no right to take him 70 her home. IL