CHAPTER ELEVEN.
FACE TO FACE.
As he walked along Corianton increased his speed; passion rocked his frame, and a deep design for revenge filled his heart. He passed down the path with rapid strides and entered the hall of Seantum's dwelling. Here he met a maid who had attended on Joan—Isabel,—and in whose company he had left her the night before.
"Where is your mistress, maid?" he demanded in no gentle tones.
"She is yet in her room, sir prophet," said the maid, trembling with fear.
"And where is that room?"
"The first door to the left opens to a passage leading to it; shall I say to my mistress you would see her?"
"No," he replied in tones husky with anger. "I will see her unannounced. Small need to stand on ceremony with such as she."
And with a few rapid strides he reached the door indicated, and entered the passage leading to the splendid rooms set apart for the use of Isabel.
He threw aside the heavy curtain drawn across the passage and stood in the presence of the woman bent on his destruction. She was seated on a low ottoman with a silver mirror in her hand and a slave was just putting the finishing touches to her toilet. She hastily arose as Corianton entered, and intense anger flashed in her dark eyes.
"Methinks this entrance is somewhat rude, bold Nephite. At least I should have thought a 'prophet' would have had respect for a maiden's privacy."
"Aye, no doubt he would. All men would respect a maiden's privacy; the most licentious wretch would tremble did he invade its hallowed precinct. But who respects the privacy of a commoner? Who pauses on the threshold of a strumpet?"
"Commoner? Strumpet?" echoed Isabel, choking with rage, "what mean you?"
"Mean? mean?" he cried, "I mean that the mask behind which you would hide as Joan is snatched away. I mean that you are a base harlot; that that fair face is besmirked with loathsome filth, that the sweet tones of your voice, the arch smile, that angel form, are but the blandishments of hell to decoy men to ruin. I mean that you with your paramours conspired to work my undoing; and I, fool-like, must walk in midday light into your traps."
He had approached her at this climax of his passion and seized her by the throat! With a shriek she sank upon her knees before him in terror. Finding her helpless in his grasp, he recovered his self-control sufficiently to loose his hold.
"No, no, I will not kill you—I meant not to harm you—pardon me. O, my God! why, oh why, is this woman so foul and yet so fair that heated rage is cooled, madness subdued to gentleness, and man's purposed revenge weeps itself to softness in woman's tears?" Covering his face with his hands he sank into a settee overpowered by the emotions which shook his frame.
By this time Isabel had recovered from the terror into which Corianton's sudden rage had thrown her; and deeply read in man's moods and passions, she saw what an influence she held over the one now before her. Stealing softly to his side, and placing her hand on his shoulder she gently said:
"Corianton, have you done well in thus proceeding? What have I done to merit such harsh treatment—such bitter words—how deserved it?"
"What have you done?" he cried—"you came to me with a lie on your lips, deceit in your heart, and under the guise of innocence, purity and goodness sought to encompass my ruin!—Well madame, your plans have carried—I am undone—ruined! I can never return to my people, to them I am infamous—an outcast!" And again his form was convulsed in an agony of grief.
"But may there not be some extenuating circumstances to free me from the harsh judgment you passed upon me? Trained from my childhood to hate your people, and taught that all means were proper that would lead to their destruction, the helpless instrument of unscrupulous men bent on defeating your mission to the Zoramites—is it any wonder that I undertook the part assigned me in the scheme? But Corianton," and she sank on her knees at his feet, "the moment I saw you—so noble in bearing—so young—my heart relented; I shrank from the performance of the wicked plot—but what was I to do? Had I told you the truth— that I was Isabel—the infamy of that name would have steeled your heart against me—you would have driven me from you as an unclean thing; and your presence—the nobility which looked from your eyes, inspired me with love such as I have never known before—I experienced a longing for something better than I had known—a desire for purity, goodness, virtue, that I might be worthy of you; and even wicked and unclean as I am, hope whispered high promises to my woman's heart—'love will forgive and forget the past; it lives only in the present and for the future,' it said; but alas! it was a vain hope—I awake and find it dust! Oh, why is there so much difference between man and woman! No matter what the past of a man may have been, he hath but to repent, and all is forgiven—and, forgotten. But when a woman falls, 'tis never more to rise or be forgiven."
These indirect appeals to him touched the gentler nature of Corianton, and bending over her as he took her hand, he said: "Nay, do not weep; if I have fallen I alone am to blame, I should have had better discretion. I am no coward to lay the blame upon another. I alone am to blame and I will alone bear the burden of God's displeasure."
"Corianton," cried Isabel as a sudden idea seized her, "if you are an outcast; come to me, go with me to Siron; we are both young, we may live for each other, and life may yield us much of happiness—I will be true to you, work for you, nay, my proud spirit is conquered by my love, I will even be your slave; let us unite our shattered fortunes: all may yet be well."
Oh youth, how elastic is thy texture! Oppressed with the heaviest grief, bowed down into the dust by ruin, thy buoyancy will up-raise the soul—hope dwells perennially in thy breast! The proposition of Isabel revived the sinking spirits of Corianton, and under the influence of her hopeful words his life yet seemed to promise something worth living for.
"If you have become an outcast from your people," she continued, "and that through me, I will become an outcast from those who knew me here, I will forsake my friends for you; and then, hand in hand, we will seek our new and better fortune. But men are changeful in their love," she added, "and when time or care steals beauty from our checks, your eyes will wander—swear to be true to me, Corianton."
Her arms stole gently about his neck and she looked pleadingly into his eyes. All his love for this woman now seemed to go out to her, and warmly returning her tender embrace he said:
"Do not fear the vanishing of my love, Isabel, for I do love thee with my whole heart, better than my country, my people or my God—the last I am estranged from, and henceforth thou shalt be my idol," and he lovingly kissed her lips.
That night they left for Siron, and reached their destination.
The following day when it became known that Corianton had gone to Siron with Isabel, the excitement in Antionum greatly increased. Shiblon the day before had been released from his bondage and was stoned by the people in the streets, led on by some of the servants of Seantum. He escaped them, however, and joined his father and brethren, and told them of the blind infatuation of Corianton.
It was decided that it would be useless to attempt to preach longer to the people of Antionum, and that evening the brethren of the mission departed for the land of Jershon, their spirits bowed down with grief at the hardness of the hearts of the Zoramites; but sorrowing most of all for the wickedness of Corianton and the disgrace he had brought upon the work.
Zoram and his associates, chief among whom was Seantum, were not satisfied with the departure of the Nephite prophets; but formed the resolution of driving from their midst those who had believed in their words. Hence they sent among the people secretly to find out those who believed in the words which Alma and his companions had taught; and learned the sentiments of those who disbelieved their teachings. The reports justified them in concluding they could drive the former out of their land with impunity. The effort was successful; and the outcasts fled to Jershon where the people of Ammon received them with gladness, and provided for their immediate wants.