She shuddered convulsively, and the agonized expression of her face was so painful to behold that her companion averted his head.
“I was alone with my misery, and so overwhelming was the shock that I fainted. When the hair-dresser came to offer her services, she found me lying insensible on the carpet. How bitterly, how unavailingly, have I reproached myself for my failure to hasten to Evelyn, even then, and divulge all. But with returning consciousness came womanly pride, and I resolved to hide the anguish for which I knew there was no cure. As soon as I was dressed, we were summoned down stairs to meet the remainder of the bridal party, and there I saw the man whom I expected to call my husband talking gayly with his attendants.
“Evelyn impetuously presented me as her ‘dearest friend,’ and, without raising his eyes, he bowed profoundly and turned away. How I endured all I was called to witness that morning, I know not; but my strength seemed superhuman. The ceremony was performed in church, and after our return to the house, Mr. Carlyle asserted and claimed the right to kiss the bridesmaids. There were four, and I was the last whom he approached. I was standing in the shadow of the window-curtain, which I had clutched for support, and, as he came close to me, our eyes met for the first time that day, and I can never, never forget the pleading mournfulness, the passionate tenderness, the despair, that filled his. I waved him from me, but he seized my hand, and pressed his hot lips lingeringly to mine. Then he whispered, ‘My only love, my own Edith, do not judge till you hear your wretched Maurice. Meet me in the hot-house when Evelyn goes to change her dress, and I will explain this awful, this accursed necessity.’ A few moments later he stood with his bride at the head of the table in the breakfast-room, while I was placed close to Evelyn, and the mirror 404 opposite reflected the group. I know now it was sinful, but, oh! how could I help it? As I looked at the reflection in the glass, and compared my face with that of the bride, I felt my poor wicked heart throb with triumph at the thought that my superior beauty could not soon be forgotten,—that, though her husband, he was still my lover. Dr. Grey, do not despise me for my weakness, as I should have despised him for his perfidy; and remember that a woman cannot in a moment renounce allegiance to a man who is the one love of her life. They forced me to drink some wine that fired my brain and made me reckless, and an hour after, when Maurice came up and offered his arm, inviting me to promenade for a few minutes in the hot-house, I yielded and accompanied him. He told me a tale of dishonorable financial transactions, into which he had been betrayed solely by the hope of obtaining money that would enable him to hasten our union; but the utter failure of the scheme threatened him with disgrace, possibly with imprisonment, and the only mode of preserving his name from infamy, was to possess himself of Evelyn’s large fortune. Just as he clasped me in his arms, and vehemently declared his deathless affection for me,—his contempt and hatred of his poor childish bride,—I heard a strange sound that was neither a wail nor a laugh, a sound unlike any other that ever smote my ears, and looking up, I saw Evelyn standing before us.”
Miss Dexter groaned aloud, and covered her eyes with her hand.
“Oh, my God! help me to shut out that horrible vision! If I could forget that distorted, death-like face, with livid lips writhing away from the gleaming teeth, and desperate, wide eyes, glaring like globes of flame! She looked twenty years older, and from her clenched hands,—her beautiful, exquisite hands,—that were wont to caress me so tenderly, the blood was dripping down on her lace veil and her white velvet bridal dress. How much she heard I know not, for I never saw her again. I swooned in Maurice’s arms, and was carried to my own room; and when I finally groped my way to Evelyn’s apartment, they told me she had been gone two 405 hours,—had sailed for Europe, leaving her husband in New York. What passed in her farewell interview with him none but he and her lawyer knew; but they separated there on condition that his debts were cancelled. She went abroad with a faithful old Scotch woman who had been her nurse, and her husband told the world she was a maniac.”
“Did he tell you so? Did you believe it?” exclaimed Dr. Grey, with a degree of vehemence that startled the governess.
“I have never seen Maurice Carlyle since that awful hour in the hot-house. He came repeatedly to my home, but I refused to meet him, and dozens of his letters have been returned unopened. Once, while I was absent, he obtained an interview with my mother, and besought her intercession in his behalf, pleading for my pardon, and assuring her that, as his wife was hopelessly insane, he would apply for a divorce, and then claim the hand of the only woman he had ever loved. I dreaded the effect upon Evelyn, and had no means of ascertaining her real condition. Soon after, I lost my mother, whose death was hastened by grief and humiliation; and, when I had laid her down beside my father, I went in search of Evelyn. Several times I had attempted to communicate with her, and with Elsie, the nurse, but my letters always came back unopened, and bearing the London stamp. Having been informed that she was in an insane asylum in England, I took the money that had been so carefully hoarded for a different purpose and went to London. One by one, I searched all the asylums in the United Kingdom, and finding no trace of her, came back to America. Finally, on the death-bed of Mr. Clayton, her lawyer, who understood my great anxiety to discover her, I was told in strict confidence that she was perfectly sane,—had never been otherwise,—but preferred that the false report in circulation should not be corrected, since her husband had set it in motion. I learned that she was well and pleasantly located somewhere in the East, but would never see the faces of either friends or foes, and absolutely refused all intercourse with her race. From one of her letters (which, a moment after, he burned in the grate) Mr. Clayton read me a paragraph: 406 ‘The greatest mercy you can show me is to allow me to forget. Henceforth mention no more the names of any I ever knew; and let silence, like a pall, shroud all the past of Vashti.’ He died next day, and since then—”
The sad, sweet voice, which for some moments had been growing more and more unsteady, here sank into a sob, and the governess wept freely, while her whole frame shook with the violence of long-pent anguish, that now defied control.
“Oh, if I could find her! If I could go to her and tell her all, and exonerate myself! If I could show her that he was mine always,—mine long before she ever saw him,—then she would not think so harshly of me. I know not what explanation Maurice gave her, nor how much of our conversation she overheard; and I cannot live contentedly,—oh! I cannot die in peace till I see my poor crushed darling, and hear from her lips the assurance that she does not hold me responsible for her wretchedness. Dr. Grey, I love her with a pitying tenderness that transcends all power of expression. Perhaps if Maurice had ever loved her, I could not feel as I do towards her; for a woman’s nature tolerates no rival in the affection of her lover, and, unprincipled as mine proved in other respects, I know that his heart was always unswervingly my own. My dear, noble Evelyn! My pure, loving little darling! Ah! I have wearied heaven with prayers that God would give her back to my arms.”
Unable to conceal the emotion he was unwilling she should witness, Dr. Grey disengaged his arm and walked away, striving to regain his usual composure.