CHAPTER LIII.
Christine lay at the parsonage in that last hard struggle which releases the soul from its earthly imprisonment. At her bed-side sat Arwed, with humid eyes, his hands in the cold grasp of hers. Near her pillow stood Swedenborg, with his piercing prophet-glance fixed immovably upon the sufferer.
'The symptoms of death are already observable,' whispered he to the weeping curate. 'Her end is near.'
'She has suffered so much,' said Arwed, 'that if her heart were iron it must break under these hard and repeated blows.'
At this moment Christine suddenly rose in her bed, turned her beauteous eyes with heavenly tenderness upon Arwed, and eagerly pressed his hand to her bosom.
'At the brink of the grave,' said she, 'all false appearances must vanish. So near the source of eternal truth, I may now speak the truth to you. I have loved you, Arwed, loved you with all the powers of my passionate soul, from the moment when you stood before me in the knight's hall in the full perfection of youth and manliness. But this love was my misery, for I was already secretly married. The caprices with which I often tormented you, alas, they came from a bleeding heart! At Ravensten did Mac Donalbain's infamous profession first become fully clear to me, and I made every possible effort to withdraw him from it. But the chains of vice hold strong! Only by slow and gentle degrees could my husband disengage himself from his associates; and, before he had time to accomplish the work, his punishment overtook him. What I have done for him was but the performance of a wife's duty. His self-murder is my divorce for this world and the next, and now my only consolation is, that I shall be able to extend to you a FREE hand when we hereafter meet in eternal light.'
As she proceeded, her voice had increased in clearness and fulness of tone, her eye became bright and flashing, and purple roses burned upon her wasted cheeks.
'You have spoken too fast and too earnestly, countess,' said the curate. 'In your present situation this excitement may cause your death.'
'I have it already in my heart, reverend sir,' said the invalid in a low voice; 'and I know but too well that it is too late to preserve life. Yet I thank you for this care, as well as for the religious consolation you have afforded me in this last heavy trial.'
She held out her hand to him, which the weeping man pressed to his lips, and the deep silence which followed, was only broken by the sobs of those present.
'I have now but one wish in this world,' resumed Christine. 'Alas, but one, the fulfilment of which would soften the pangs of death; but I dare not hope.'
'Thy son is mine!' cried Arwed. 'By God and my own honor, I will adopt him and he shall bear the name and arms of Gyllenstierna.'
'I know,' answered Christine, 'that you will do whatever is great and good, and I have ceased to be anxious about the fate of my child since I confided it to you. But my poor old father--' and here her voice faltered,--'that I may not once more kneel before him and implore his pardon, that, that alone embitters my death.'
'Poor woman!' cried Arwed, who witnessed the extent of her sorrow with the perfect conviction that no consolation could be offered.
'Hope, sinner!' cried Swedenborg with emotion, laying his hand upon Christine's head. 'True repentance may do much; a weeping, penitent child, it presses strongly against the gates of heaven; and behold! the ruby gates fly open, and the eternal mercy, sitting upon a throne woven of rays of light, takes the weeping child softly to her bosom and dries her tears with maternal love!'
He stepped apart, folded his hands, and silently and fervently raised his eyes on high. Christine also folded her hands and moved her lips in a murmured prayer.
'Thou art heard!' suddenly exclaimed Swedenborg; and at the same instant Christine sprang up, and with outspread arms joyfully cried, 'my father!'
A white ray floated through the room, and the strings of the piano reverberated like the dying harmony of an Eolian harp.
'He has pardoned me, he has preceded me, he expects me there!' cried Christine in ecstasy, and immediately sank back upon her pillow.
Swedenborg approached her, and as his glance fell upon her fixed eyes, he exclaimed with emotion: 'she is dead!'
And the clock struck the third hour of the morning.