Times have altered since then, and I often look with pride at the wife who shares my home in the wilderness; and now, years after, in spite of the changes that have taken place, and the safety of person and property in the colony, Mary never hears an unusual noise by night without tremblingly grasping my arm, and listening eagerly, while she recalls the horrors of the deep gully.
Chapter Fourteen.
Gnashing of Teeth.
Hush! Be silent! Let this be to you as if whispered under the seal of confession, for it is of the secret, secret. Never let it be known to a soul, or body, let it never even be said aloud, lest some vagrant wind should bear it away, and it become known to the vulgar herd.
Hush, listen! Keep it secret. I am a man who has known sorrow and deep affliction. My heart has been broken—broken? no, hammered to pieces—powdered, till there cannot be a fragment left that has not dissolved away amidst my tears. And how was this, say you? Why, because I loved her. I knew it not at first, but it came upon me imperceptibly, like the pale dawn upon the daisy mead, growing brighter each moment until the sun riseth, and all is one glowing scene of beauty. It was all sunshine then, and earth was brighter day by day in my kindling eye. A new life seemed bursting forth within me. I found charms, where all before was dreary. I slept—but to dream of my beloved image, and awoke but to muse upon her perfections. She was a doctor’s little daughter, but the taint of medicine was never upon her, and to love her was a new-born hope. Yes, I dared to hope—presumptuous wretch that I was; but by that which casts the shadow of Wilkie Collins, I will name “No Name.” Yes, I hoped that my ardent passion was returned—that is to say that not mine, but another ardent passion was given in exchange. Had not she smiled upon me? and had not her hand rested in mine for an instant, squeezed it, and then gently glided away, while I was bursting with the desire to press my lips upon it? I dared not be too sanguine, but yet hope whispered me that I was loved—that she would be all my own—mine—far off perhaps in the future might the realisation of my wishes be, but I could wait. I was still young, eighteen in a month, and what were a few years, when so peerless a queen awaited me?
Time slipped rapidly by, though I counted the minutes ere I could cull and lay the choicest of flowerets before her—flowers bought with money at Covent Garden Market—flowers received with smiles, while some bud would be culled and placed amidst the ebon ringlets that wantoned around her alabastrine neck. The light of gratitude would beam from those tender dark eyes when some book, poem, or musical trifle that I had sought was presented with a stammered excuse for daring to bring them beneath her queen-like notice. Her coral lips would part, and display the pearly treasures beneath, when I would shrink back timid and fearful lest I should be guilty of a theft and steal a treasure from the coral bow.
I loved her—madly loved her. I paced the square by night to gaze upon her lamp-lit casement—content with gazing upon the blind alone, but enraptured if the shadow of her fairy form was cast upon that blind; misery-stricken if, warned off by the policeman, I had to leave the square, smarting under the knowledge that I was watched. But still I kept long vigils by the house lest evil should befall her, and I not be there to ward it off. But nothing happened: the house did not catch fire; burglars never assailed it; no ruffians ever attempted abduction; and the two mysterious figures who entered by the front door at two o’clock on the Tuesday night, were her father and brother; while the dark man who went down the area was only the policeman. But those were agonies until I knew the truth, and was sweetly rallied for my anxiety. But though no prodigies of valour were ever performed by me, they were there ready in my bosom—a bosom which burned to shed its last drop in her defence.
Months flew by, and then in the balcony one night I told my love of my anxieties, my troubles, my cares, and then, in the intoxication of the moment I saw not that we stood plainly out against the illuminated window, for I only knew that her blushing face was hidden upon my shoulder as I clasped her to my breast and reiterated my vows of love. And she? Ah! she would be mine—mine for ever; and she whispered those words as a ribald street boy sung out “Lul-liety.”