CHAPTER VII.
The next morning the doctor removed his goods and chattels to “The Five Gables,” and took an office on the principal street, getting his meals wherever hunger overtook him. He knew that he was welcome to stay at “The Gables” forever if he liked, but he did not care to. He was conscious of his own strength. He knew that he could live in the same house with Victoria and never tell her of his love, but in some way she might discover it, and then all intercourse, however Platonic, would be at an end between them. She would despise him for a false friend. She could never be made to see his love in the same light with which he received it, so it were best that he should go to “The Gables” as little as possible.
Victoria enjoyed hugely the widow’s proposal, and insisted upon his telling it to Andrew. Perhaps it might rouse him from the strange, almost comatose state which had seemed to hold him since he had regained his senses. To lie and dream with his eyes wide open, following Victoria as she moved about the room, was all he had cared to do. He did not often speak, and Victoria grew alarmed at this lethargy, which was so foreign to his nature; so the doctor, one day, at Victoria’s bidding, sat down beside the bed and told Andrew of his recent adventure, making it as ridiculous as possible, thereby trying to win from his patient a hearty laugh, but Andrew only smiled dreamily, and watched Victoria as she arranged some flowers in a vase, and placed them near his bedside.
“She is the fairest flower of them all,” the doctor heard him murmur. “There is not one to compare with her. No, not one.”
The physician saw that Andrew’s mind had not been on the story he had just related. In all probability he had not heard a word of it, and the doctor formed a resolution which he immediately put into execution. He asked, abruptly, keeping his eye on the invalid’s face: “Have you thought what the future has in store for you, Andrew?”
The deep-sunken eyes turned inquiringly upon the doctor.
“The future, the future,” he repeated, “What have I to do with the future? There is no future for me.”
“Then you do not care what becomes of you? You are not desirous of living?”
For the first time Andrew evinced some interest, and there was a flash of the old imperiousness in his manner as he replied: “Who would wish to live if they knew a prison cell stood waiting to receive them? Ask a bird which is suddenly caught and caged after having been free all its life; ask it if it chooses freedom with death as a penalty, or long life behind prison bars, though gilded? It will soon answer by beating its little life out against the cruel wires which cage it.”
He stopped and caught his breath with almost a sob. Victoria turned surprised to hear his voice which rang out strong and almost as firm as of old.
“Then you acknowledge your crime, and are willing to suffer the penalty?” asked the doctor bending forward.
Andrew’s eyes sought Victoria as if he were seeking strength. “No punishment which man can inflict will exceed that which God has already given. Victoria and the child are lost to me forever, and it is just. My angel who is so pure, so spotless, will return to the man she loves. What matters the tortures inflicted upon this body by a cruel world, I shall not heed them. The heart only can feel, and my heart is gone from me, gone into the keeping of my angel where it will be safe from all sin. Everything she touches becomes pure, you know.”
Victoria was weeping. She could not listen unmoved to the words which told of the complete change in this man’s nature. He was willing to resign both her and Mary without a struggle, knowing the prior right of the man up stairs. Although he was little better than an imbecile. She knew he loved her still; that their separation would be his death blow; that he could not live without her. She crossed the room rapidly, and knelt beside the bed taking Andrew’s wondering face in her hands and kissing it passionately. “I love but you, my darling. You have sinned against me grievously, but I condone everything, everything, you sinned through love of me. Much can be forgiven you, because you have loved much.”
Andrew’s face was a study. The glad tidings that at last Victoria loved him with a passion equal to his own came like a shock to him. He was stunned, bewildered, and allowed her to caress him without giving any in return. To him there could come no greater joy than this. She loved him, and her love had withstood the knowledge of his crimes. With a cry he raised his arms and drew her to him as well as his feeble strength would permit. He forgot but that she was in reality his wife, and pressed his lips to hers in a long caress which seemed to draw her very soul from her body.
The doctor softly left the room. Their confidences were not for stranger’s ears, and at this moment he felt a stranger. He realized that he had no part or parcel with the two whom he had left. He felt no jealousy toward Andrew because of the love Victoria bore him. Only a sorrow that all this trouble and heartache must come to the woman whom he would have shielded from every care if God had so willed it, and for her sake he would also have shielded Andrew. He saw nothing wrong in this love which each bore the other. For years they had lived in close companionship. The holiest relation had been sanctified by a precious gift from God, little Mary. True the world would not look upon Andrew’s faults and crimes through eyes of love. There would be nothing but gravest censure and perhaps a prison cell for him. And what a life for Victoria tenderly reared and nurtured. Her sensitive nature would soon droop and die under the world’s cruel darts leveled at her and the child, for what person would believe but that she had been cognizant of the gabled room, and its imbecile occupant all these years? And little Mary, upon whose innocent head must fall her father’s sin, and who in time would be the greatest sufferer? Was it necessary to bawl from the housetops that the heir to “The Five Gables” still lived, and that a stain rested upon Mary’s fair name? No, the doctor thought not. If Roger had even one symptom of returning reason, then it would be a crime to conceal his existence, but he would never recover. The doctor had thoroughly examined him and found the brain was irreparably injured, probably in the railway accident in which as every one supposed he had lost his life. He might live for years, but his mental condition would remain unchanged. Then why reveal what would affect the lives of so many beings when concealment would harm nobody.
The doctor pondered long over this knotty problem. He went over and over again every little detail bearing upon the matter, and finally concluded to give his advice, if asked, and Victoria should decide as she saw fit.
Meanwhile, the first ecstacy over, Andrew, with his face still pressed against Victoria’s, said: “What happiness is mine, dear one! With the sweet knowledge of your love to strengthen me, I can battle with the world. What matters it though every hand be against me, if my Victoria is for me?”
She did not answer him. She was content to lie with her arms about him, her cheek resting upon his. To hear his voice, weak, but, oh, so dear, speaking to her in accents of deepest love, was peace to her tired heart—such peace as she had never known.
Presently he spoke again. “How long have I been ill, Victoria?”
“Do not ask me,” she answered. “I have taken no note of the flight of time. To me it has seemed an eternity. I have prayed that you might die, and God, in His great goodness and mercy heeded not my sinful prayer, but stayed His hand, and gave you back to me from the very portals of the grave.”
“Why did you pray for my death, Victoria?”
“So that you might be released from all responsibility attending your wrong-doing. So that Mary might have been shielded from disgrace. So that I, too, might die with you, for I could not have lived without you. My love for you has grown until it is stronger than Death; stronger than prison bars, even. It shall compass you round and protect you from all danger.”
He raised his hand and laid it upon her head caressingly. How her words revealed her innermost soul to him! Once he would have risked his life to hear her utter these sweet words which now she lavished upon him with frank abandonment, and which were characteristic of a true woman’s nature, which, when once she loves, flings prudence to the winds and gives to the object of her adoration the best of her life. So it was with Victoria. Her love had been of slow growth, and, perhaps might never have been revealed to her in its entirety but for the sickness of Andrew. No other thoughts filled her heart but that of sacrificing herself for him and of sparing him every annoyance.
As Andrew caressed her hair, running his fingers through the little curls which clustered about her forehead, she felt a drowsiness steal over her, an exquisite languor which quieted her nerves, and soon threw her into a restful sleep. Andrew watched her with convicting emotions. The knowledge of her love for him had come to him with such suddenness as almost to overwhelm him. He had schooled himself to the belief that Victoria still loved Roger; that she would evince a just hatred for himself when he should have sufficiently recovered, and that a felon’s cell awaited him, where he would be shut away forever from the sight of his child. Contrary to his imaginings, she had showered the tenderest caresses upon him, and had told him that she would never leave him, but would follow him to a prison cell if need be. All this was very delightful to Andrew, but, nevertheless, he saw his duty as plainly now as he had seen it at first. Although his body had been weak since his recovery, his brain had been all the more active and God had pointed out his duty in a way he could not fail to see. Restitution, although coming late, must be made to the poor imbecile who had been so greatly wronged. Sweet as he knew Victoria’s love promised to be for himself, she must return to Roger though it broke her heart, while he gave himself up to the authorities, to be dealt with as they should determine. The more harsh their treatment, the better it would suit him.
Victoria stirred uneasily, and threw her hand over Andrew so that it rested upon his mouth. He kissed it sorrowfully, reverently, as though in that kiss he was relinquishing his every hope; and as she opened her eyes, he closed his own and feigned sleep. She called his name softly, but he made no motion, and, thinking him asleep, she quietly arose and left the room.