“Well done, Maria Teresa! really that is the best of all! Indeed, your talents are quite lost upon such unworthy game as me and my poor estate—good-bye!” And laughing bitterly, he left the room, and hurried down stairs. A few minutes after she heard the clock strike ten—then she arose and went to the window to look out. He stood upon the lawn, in riding gear, near a group consisting of his servant Dandy, and three saddle-horses. She saw him vault into his saddle, and ride away, attended by Dandy, mounted on one horse and leading another. As he passed the outer gate, one look of love, sorrow, and despair, he turned towards her window, and then vanished into the forest road.
She did not see that look—she could not have seen it at that distance; she saw that he was gone, and turning from the window, she sank down upon the carpet in the collapse of deepest sorrow.
Gone! He was gone! His presence that had made all suffering tolerable was withdrawn, and the place was empty—life itself was empty.
He was gone—gone—not lovingly, after a lingering, tender leave-taking—that would have been sorrowful enough; but it would have been cheered by the promise of frequent interchange of letters, and the anticipation of re-union; how much more sorrowful this utter separation!
Gone! gone! not in anger—that would have been bitter indeed; but it would have been sweetened by hope that anger would subside, that reflection would come, and reconciliation ensue; but how much bitterer this hopeless disunion.
Gone in scorn! Gone in loathing! Gone to return no more but as a stranger! Oh, insupportable grief! Oh, hopeless anguish! Oh, despair!
A few short weeks ago the heaven of her life had been so serene, so divinely serene, and her soul had reflected back the beautiful “great calm,” as a still lake the clear sky.
Now all was changed! Now all was clouds and storm and darkness! A howling wilderness around! A howling tempest overhead! And her soul answered back the tempestuous discord of life, as the storm-tossed ocean, the storm-lowered sky! All was confusion, distraction, chaos!
Wild impulses—suggestions of the fiend—darted meteor-like athwart her mind:—to fly—to go away and leave a place, where she had been brought a bride, full of love and hope and trust, and where every feeling of womanly pride and delicacy had been ruthlessly, insultingly trampled in the dust!
But simultaneously with this suggestion, arose the instinct of the wife, and the inspiration of the Christian, teaching her that scorned and outraged as she had been, her only post of duty as of hope, was her husband’s home. Yes, amid all the gloom and terror, she caught this one glimpse of Heaven. Amid all the clash and clang of passion and despair, she heard this voice of God.