THE ORPHAN.
"Let me die, father! I fear, I fear
To fall in earth's terrible strife!"
"Not so, my child, for the crown must be won
In the battle-field of Life."
—Life and Death.
"He has gone to sleep again," said Clara, with a sigh of relief.
"He has gone to heaven, my child," said Marah Rocke, softly.
The orphan started, gazed wildly on the face of the dead, turned ghastly pale and, with a low moan and suffocating sob, fell fainting into the motherly arms of Mrs. Rocke.
Marah beckoned Traverse, who lifted the insensible girl tenderly in his arms and, preceded by his mother, bore her to her chamber and laid her upon the bed.
Then Marah dismissed Traverse to attend to the duties owed to the remains of the beloved departed, while she herself stayed with Clara, using every means for her restoration.
Clara opened her eyes at length, but in reviving to life also returned to grief. Dreadful to witness was the sorrow of the orphan girl. She had controlled her grief in the presence of her father and while he lingered in life, only to give way now to its overwhelming force. Marah remained with her, Holding her in her arms, weeping with her, praying for her, doing all that the most tender mother could do to soothe, console and strengthen the bleeding young heart.
The funeral of Doctor Day took place the third day from his decease, and was attended by all the gentry of the neighboring town and county in their own carriages, and by crowds who came on foot to pay the last tribute of respect to their beloved friend.
He was interred in the family burial ground, situated on a wooded hill up behind the homestead, and at the head of his last resting place was afterwards erected a plain obelisk of white marble, with his name and the date of his birth and death and the following inscription:
"He is not here, but is risen."
"When dear Clara comes to weep at her father's grave, these words will send her away comforted and with her faith renewed," had been Traverse Rocke's secret thought when giving directions for the inscription of this inspiring text.
On the morning of the day succeeding the funeral, while Clara, exhausted by the violence of her grief, lay prostrate upon her chamber couch, Mrs. Rocke and Traverse sat conversing in that once pleasant, now desolate, morning reading-room.
"You know, dear mother, that by the doctor's desire, which should be considered sacred, Clara is still to live here, and you are to remain to take care of her. I shall defer my journey West until everything is settled to Clara's satisfaction, and she has in some degree recovered her equanimity. I must also have an interview and a good understanding with her guardian, for whom I have a message."
"Who is this guardian of whom I have heard you speak more than once, Traverse?" asked Marah.
"Dear mother, will you believe me that I have forgotten the man's name; it is an uncommon name that I never heard before in my life, and, in the pressure of grief upon my mind, its exact identity escaped my memory; but that does not signify much, as he is expected hourly; and when he announces himself, either by card or word of mouth, I shall know, for I shall recognize the name the moment I see it written or hear it spoken. Let me see, it was something like Des Moines, De Vaughn, De Saule, or something of that sort. At all events, I'm sure I shall know it again the instant I see or hear it. And now, dear mother, I must ride up to Staunton to see some of the doctor's poor sick that he left in my charge for as long as I stay here. I shall be back by three o'clock. I need not ask you to take great care of that dear suffering girl up-stairs," said Traverse, taking his hat and gloves for a ride.
"I shall go and stay with her as soon as she awakes," answered Mrs. Rocke.
And Traverse, satisfied, went his way.
He had been gone perhaps an hour when the sound of a carriage was heard below in the front of the house, followed soon by a loud rapping at the hall door.
"It is dear Clara's guardian," said Marah Rocke, rising and listening.
Soon a servant entered and placed a card in her hand, saying:
"The gentleman is waiting in the hall below, and asked to see the person that was in charge here, ma'am; so I fotch the card to you."
"You did right, John. Show the gentleman up here," said Marah; and as soon as the servant had gone she looked at the card, but failed to make it out. The name was engraved in Old English text, and in such a complete labyrinth, thicket and network of ornate flourishes that no one who was not familiar at once with the name and the style could possibly have distinguished it.
"I do not think my boy would know this name at sight," was Marah's thought as she twirled the card in her hand and stood waiting the entrance of the visitor, whose step was now heard coming up the stairs. Soon the door was thrown open and the stranger entered.
Marah, habitually shy in the presence of strangers, dropped her eyes before she had fairly taken in the figure of a tall, handsome, dark-complexioned, distinguished-looking man, somewhat past middle age, and arrayed in a rich military cloak, and carrying in his hand a military cap.
The servant who had admitted him had scarcely retired when Marah looked up and her eyes and those of the stranger met—and—
"Marah Rocke!!!"
"Colonel Le Noir!!!"
Burst simultaneously from the lips of each.
Le Noir first recovered himself, and, holding out both hands, advanced toward her with a smile as if to greet an old friend.
But Marah, shrinking from him in horror, turned and tottered to the farthest window, where, leaning her head against the sash, she moaned:
"Oh, my heart: my heart! Is this the wolf to whom my lamb must be committed?"
As she moaned these words she was aware of a soft step at her side and a low voice murmuring:
"Marah Rocke, yes! the same beautiful Marah that, as a girl of fifteen—twenty years ago—turned my head, led me by her fatal charms into the very jaws of death—the same lovely Marah with her beauty only ripened by time and exalted by sorrow!"
With one surprised, indignant look, but without a word of reply, Mrs. Rocke turned and walked composedly toward the door with the intention of quitting the room.
Colonel Le Noir saw and forestalled her purpose by springing forward, turning the key and standing before the door.
"Forgive, me, Marah, but I must have a word with you before we part," he said, in those soft, sweet, persuasive tones he knew so well how to assume.
Marah remembered that she was an honorable matron and an honored mother; that, as such, fears and tremors and self-distrust in the presence of a villain would not well become her; so calling up all the gentle dignity latent in her nature, she resumed her seat and, signing to the visitor to follow her example, she said composedly:
"Speak on, Colonel Le Noir—remembering, if you please, to whom you speak."
"I do remember, Marah; remember but too well."
"They call me Mrs. Rocke who converse with me, sir."
"Marah, why this resentment? Is it possible that you can still be angry? Have I remained true to my attachment all these years and sought you throughout the world to find this reception at last?"
"Colonel Le Noir, if this is all you had to say, it was scarcely worth while to have detained me," said Mrs. Rocke calmly.
"But it is not all, my Marah! Yes, I call you mine by virtue of the strongest attachment man ever felt for woman! Marah Rocke, you are the only woman who ever inspired me with a feeling worthy to be called a passion——"
"Colonel Le Noir, how dare you blaspheme this house of mourning by such sinful words? You forget where you stand and to whom you speak."
"I forget nothing, Marah Rocke; nor do I violate this sanctuary of sorrow"—here he sank his voice below his usual low tones—"when I speak of the passion that maddened my youth and withered my manhood—a passion whose intensity was its excuse for all extravagances and whose enduring constancy is its final, full justification!"
Before he had finished this sentence Marah Rocke had calmly arisen and pulled the bell rope.
"What mean you by that, Marah?" he inquired.
Before she replied a servant, in answer to the bell, came to the door and tried the latch, and, finding it locked, rapped.
With a blush that mounted to his forehead and with a half-suppressed imprecation, Colonel Le Noir went and unlocked the door and admitted the man.
"John," said Mrs. Rocke, quietly, "show Colonel Le Noir to the apartment prepared for him and wait his orders." And with a slight nod to the guest she went calmly from the room.
Colonel Le Noir, unmindful of the presence of the servant, stood gazing in angry mortification after her. The flush on his brow had given way to the fearful pallor of rage or hate as he muttered inaudibly:
"Insolent beggar! contradiction always confirms my half-formed resolutions. Years ago I swore to possess that woman, and I will do it, if it be only to keep my oath and humble her insolence. She is very handsome still; she shall be my slave!"
Then, perceiving the presence of John, he said:
"Lead the way to my room, sirrah, and then go and order my fellow to bring up my portmanteau."
John devoutly pulled his forelocks as he bowed low and then went on, followed by Colonel Le Noir.
Marah Rocke meanwhile had gained the privacy of her own chamber, where all her firmness deserted her.
Throwing herself into a chair, she clasped her hands and sat with blanched face and staring eyes, like a marble statue of despair.
"Oh, what shall I do? what shall I do while this miscreant remains here?—this villain whose very presence desecrates the roof and dishonors me? I would instantly leave the house but that I must not abandon poor Clara.
"I cannot claim the protection of Traverse, for I would not provoke him to wrath or run him into danger; nor, indeed, would I even permit my son to dream such a thing possible as that his mother could receive insult!
"Nor can I warn Clara of the unprincipled character of her guardian, for if she knew him as he is she would surely treat him in such a way as to get his enmity—his dangerous, fatal enmity!—doubly fatal since her person and property are legally at his disposal. Oh, my dove! my dove! that you should be in the power of this vulture! What shall I do, oh, heaven?"
Marah dropped on her knees and finished her soliloquy with prayer. Then, feeling composed and strengthened, she went to Clara's room.
She found the poor girl lying awake and quietly weeping.
"Your guardian has arrived, love," she said, sitting down beside the bed and taking Clara's hand.
"Oh, must I get up and dress to see a stranger?" sighed Clara, wearily.
"No, love; you need not stir until it is time to dress for dinner; it will answer quite well if you meet your guardian at table," said Marah, who had particular reasons for wishing that Clara should first see Colonel Le Noir with other company, to have an opportunity of observing him well and possibly forming an estimate of his character (as a young girl of her fine instincts might well do) before she should be exposed in a tête-a-tête to those deceptive blandishments he knew so well how to bring into play.
"That is a respite. Oh, dear Mrs. Rocke, you don't know how I dread to see any one!"
"My dear Clara, you must combat grief by prayer, which is the only thing that can overcome it," said Marah.
Mrs. Rocke remained with her young charge as long as she possibly could, and then she went down-stairs to oversee the preparation of the dinner.
And it was at the dinner-table that Marah, with the quiet and gentle dignity for which she was distinguished, introduced the younger members of the family to the guest, in these words:
"Your ward, Miss Day, Colonel Le Noir."
The colonel bowed deeply and raised the hand of Clara to his lips, murmuring some sweet, soft, silvery and deferentially inaudible words of condolence, sympathy and melancholy pleasure, from which Clara, with a gentle bend of her head, withdrew to take her seat.
"Colonel Le Noir, my son, Doctor Rocke," said Marah, presenting Traverse.
The colonel stared superciliously, bowed with ironical depth, said he was "much honored," and, turning his back on the young man, placed himself at the table.
During the dinner he exerted himself to be agreeable to Miss Day and Mrs. Rocke, but Traverse he affected to treat with supercilious neglect or ironical deference.
Our young physician had too much self-respect to permit himself to be in any degree affected by this rudeness. And Marah, on her part, was glad, so that it did not trouble Traverse, that Le Noir should behave in this manner, so that Clara should be enabled to form some correct idea of his disposition.
When dinner was over Clara excused herself and retired to her room, whither she was soon followed by Mrs. Rocke.
"Well, my dear, how do you like your guardian?" asked Marah, in a tone as indifferent as she could make it.
"I do not like him at all!" exclaimed Clara, her gentle blue eyes flashing with indignation through her tears; "I do not like him at all, the scornful, arrogant, supercilious—Oh! I do not wish to use such strong language, or to grow angry when I am in such deep grief; but my dear father could not have known this man, or he never would have chosen him for my guardian; do you think he would, Mrs. Rocke?"
"My dear, your excellent father must have thought well of him, or he never would have intrusted him with so precious a charge. Whether your father's confidence in this man will be justified as far as you are concerned, time will show. Meanwhile, my love, as the guardian appointed by your father, you should treat him with respect; but, so far as reposing any trust in him goes, consult your own instincts."
"I shall; and I thank heaven that I have not got to go and live with Colonel Le Noir!" said Clara, fervently.
Mrs. Rocke sighed. She remembered that the arrangement that permitted Clara to live at her own home with her chosen friends was but a verbal one, not binding upon the guardian and executor unless he chose to consider it so.
Their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a servant with a message from Colonel Le Noir, expressing a hope that Miss Day felt better from her afternoon's repose, and desiring the favor of her company in the library.
Clara returned an answer pleading indisposition, and begging upon that account to be excused.
At tea, however, the whole family met again. As before, Colonel Le Noir exerted himself to please the ladies and treated the young physician with marked neglect. This conduct offended Miss Day to such a degree that she, being a girl of truth in every thought, word and deed, could only exhibit toward the guest the most freezing politeness that was consistent with her position as hostess, and she longed for the time to come that should deliver their peaceful home and loving little circle from the unwelcome presence of this arrogant intruder.
"How can he imagine that I can be pleased with his deference and courtesy and elaborate compliments, when he permits himself to be so rude to Traverse? I hope Traverse will tell him of our engagement, which will, perhaps, suggest to him the propriety of reforming his manners while he remains under a roof of which Traverse is destined to be master," said Clara to herself, as she arose from the table and, with a cold bow, turned to retire from the room.
"And will not my fair ward give me a few hours of her company this evening?" inquired Colonel Le Noir in an insinuating voice, as he took and pressed the hand of the doctor's orphan daughter.
"Excuse me, sir; but, except at meal times, I have not left my room since"—here her voice broke down; she could not speak to him of her bereavement, or give way in his presence to her holy sorrow. "Besides, sir," she added, "Doctor Rocke, I know, has expressed to you his desire for an early interview."
"My fair young friend, Doctor Rocke, as you style the young man, will please to be so condescending as to tarry the leisure of his most humble servant," replied the colonel, with an ironical bow in the direction of Traverse.
"Perhaps, sir, when you know that Doctor Rocke is charged with the last uttered will of my dear father, and that it is of more importance than you are prepared to anticipate, you may be willing to favor us all by granting this 'young man' an early audience," said Clara.
"The last uttered will! I had supposed that the will of my late brother-in-law was regularly drawn up and executed and in the hands of his confidential attorney at Staunton."
"Yes, sir; so it is; but I refer to my father's last dying wishes, his verbal directions entrusted to his confidential friend Doctor Rocke," said Clara.
"Last verbal directions, entrusted to Doctor Rocke. Humph! Humph! this would require corroborative evidence," said the colonel.
"Such corroborative evidence can be had, sir," said Clara, coldly "and as I know that Doctor Rocke has already requested an interview for the sake of an explanation of these subjects, I must also join my own request to his, and assure you that by giving him an early opportunity of coming to an understanding with you, you will greatly oblige me."
"Then, undoubtedly, my sweet young friend, your wishes shall be commands—Eh! you—sir! Doctor—What's-your-name! meet me in the library at ten o'clock to-morrow morning," said Le Noir, insolently.
"I have engagements, sir, that will occupy me between the hours of ten and three; before or after that period I am at your disposal," said Traverse, coldly.
"Pardieu! It seems to me that I am placed at yours!" replied the colonel, lifting his eyebrows; "but as I am so placed by the orders of my fair little tyrant here, so be it—at nine to-morrow I am your most obedient servant."
"At nine, then, sir, I shall attend you," said Traverse, with a cold bow.
Clara slightly curtsied and withdrew from the room, attended by Mrs. Rocke.
Traverse, as the only representative of the host, remained for a short time with his uncourteous guest, who, totally regardless of his presence, threw himself into an armchair, lighted a cigar, took up a book and smoked and read.
Whereupon Traverse, seeing this, withdrew to the library to employ himself with finishing the arranging and tying up of certain papers left to his charge by Doctor Day.