XVII. — THE WILL.
Mohun had commenced his narrative in a mild voice, and with an expression of great sadness upon his features. As he proceeded, however, this all disappeared; gradually the voice became harsh and metallic, so to describe it, and his face resumed that expression of cynical bitterness which I had observed in him on our first meeting. As he returned thus, to the past, all its bitterness seemed to revive; memory lashed him with its stinging whip; and Mohun had gone back to his “first phase,”—that of the man, stern, implacable, and misanthropic.
After uttering the words, “So much for Act I., Surry!” he paused. A moment afterward, however, he resumed his narrative.
“What I am now going to tell you is not agreeable to remember, my dear Surry, and I shall accordingly relate every thing as briefly as possible. I aim only to give you a clear conception of the tragedy. You will form your own opinion.
“I was impolite enough in introducing Miss Mortimer to you, at the parsonage, to describe that young lady as a ‘devil.’ No doubt the term shocked you, and yet it conveyed something very like the exact truth. I declare to you that this woman was, and is still, a marvel to me, a most curious study. How could she be such as she was? She had the lips of an infant, and the eyes of an angel. Was it not strange that, under all that, she should hide the heart of a born devil? But to continue my narrative.
“The month or two which elapsed between my engagement and my marriage was not an uninterrupted dream of bliss. The atmosphere was strangely disturbed on more than one occasion. Mademoiselle was frequently absent from the parsonage when I arrived, taking long walks with Monsieur, her brother; and when she returned from these excursions, I could see a very strange expression on her countenance as she looked at me. Occasionally her glance was like those lurid flashes of lightning which you may have seen issue from the depths of a black cloud. Her black eyes were the cloud—admire the simile!—and I assure you their expression at such moments was far from agreeable. What to make of it, I knew not. I am not constitutionally irritable, but on more than one occasion I felt a strange angry throb of the heart when I encountered those glances.
“Mademoiselle saw my displeasure, and hastened at once to soothe and dissipate it. The dark flash was always succeeded by the most brilliant sunshine; but, even in moments of her greatest apparent abandon, I would still meet suddenly, when she did not think I was looking at her, the sombre glance which appalled me.
“In spite of this strange phenomenon, however, the young girl possessed unbounded influence over me. I could not resist her fascinations, and was as wax in her hands. She took a charming interest in all that concerned me; painted the blissful future before us, in all the colors of the rainbow; and declared that the devotion of her whole life would not be sufficient to display ‘her gratitude for my magnanimity in wedding a poor girl who had nothing but her warm love to offer me.’
“‘That is more than enough,’ I said, charmed by her caressing voice. ‘I have few relations, and friends—you are all to me.’
“‘And you to me!’ she said. Then she added, with a sort of shudder, ‘but suppose you were to die!’
“I laughed, and replied:—
“‘You would be well provided for, and find yourself a gay young widow with hundreds of beaux?’
“She looked at me reproachfully.
“‘Do you think I would ever marry again?’ she said. ‘No! I would take our marriage ring, and some little souvenir connected with you, leave your fine house, and go with my brother to some poor home in a foreign country, where the memory of our past happiness would be my solace!’
“I shook my head.
“‘You will not do that,’ I said, ‘you will be the mistress of all my fortune, after my death!’
“‘Oh, no!’ she exclaimed.
“‘Oh, yes!’ I responded, laughing; ‘and, to make every thing certain, I am going to draw up my will this very day, leaving you every thing which I possess in the world.’
“Her face suddenly flushed.
“‘How can you think of such a thing!’ she said. ‘I did not know how much you loved me!’
“You will understand, my dear Surry, that those words did not change my resolution. When I left her I went home, and wrote the will in due form, and on my next visit she asked, laughing, if I had carried out my absurd resolution.
“‘Yes,’ I said, ‘and now let us talk of a more interesting affair—our marriage!’
“She blushed, then turned pale, and again I saw the strange lurid glance. It disappeared, however, in an instant, and she was all smiles and fascinations throughout the remainder of the day. Never had I been so happy.”