"My brother was saved, and I concealed most carefully the assistance I had been to him; he left the country and went with his wife to America, where, ever since, he has worked hard and gained hardly enough to support a miserable existence. His wife died during the voyage. And, as to ourselves, we no longer possess any thing; for Grinselhof and our other lands were mortgaged for more than they were worth. Besides this, I was forced to borrow from a gentleman of my acquaintance four thousand francs upon my bond.
"When your mother heard of the sacrifices to which I was forced to submit, she made no reproaches; at first she fully approved my conduct. But very soon we became necessarily subjected to privations under which your mother's strength declined, till, without a sigh or complaint, she began to fade away slowly from earth. It was a dreadful situation; for, to conceal our ruin and save our ancestral name from contempt, we were forced to part with the last ounce of our silver to pay the interest on our debts. Gradually our horses and servants disappeared; the paths that led to our neighbors soon became grass-grown; and we declined all social invitations, so as to avoid the necessity of returning the compliment. A rumor about us began to spread through the village and among the noble families that had formerly been on terms of intimacy with us; and scandal declared that avarice had driven us to a life of meanness and isolation! We joyously accepted the imputation, and even the coldness with which our holiday friends accompanied it; it was a veil with which society thought proper to cover us, and beneath its folds our poverty was safe from scrutiny.
"But I am approaching scenes, my child, the recollection of which almost unnerves me. My story has reached the most painful moment of my life, and I beseech you to hear me calmly.
"Your poor mother wasted away to a skeleton; her sunken-eyes were hardly visible in their deep sockets; a livid pallor suffused her cheeks. As I saw her fading,—fading,—the wife whom I had loved more than life,—as I gazed on those death-struck features and saw the fatal evidences each day clearer and clearer,—I became nearly mad with despair and grief."
Lenora shuddered with emotion as her breast heaved convulsively under the sobs she strove to repress. Her father stopped a moment, almost overcome by the recital; but, rallying his courage quickly, he forced himself to go on with his sad recollections:—
"Poor mother! she did nothing but weep! Every time she looked at her child—her dear little Lenora—tears filled her eyes. Thy name was always on her lips, as if she were forever addressing a prayer for thee to God in heaven! At last the dreadful hour arrived when she heard the Almighty's voice summoning her above. The clergyman performed the services for the dying; and you, my child, had been taken from her arms and sent out of the house. It was midnight, and I was alone with her whose icy lips had already imprinted on mine their last sad kiss. My heart bled. Oh, God! how wretched—how wretched—were those parting hours! My beloved wife lay there before me as if already a corpse, while the tears yet trickled down her hollow cheeks and she strove to utter your name with her expiring breath. Kneeling beside her, I implored God's mercy for her passing hour, and kissed away the sweat of agony that stood upon her brow. Suddenly I thought I perceived an effort to speak, and, bending my ear to her lips, she called me by name, and said, 'It is over, my love, it is over; farewell! It has not pleased the Almighty to assuage my dying hour, and I go with the conviction that my child will suffer want and wretchedness on earth!'
"I know not what my love inspired me to say in that solemn moment; but I called God to witness that you should escape suffering, and that your life should be happy! A heavenly smile illuminated her eyes, and she believed my promise. With an effort, she lifted her thin hands once more round my neck and drew my lips to hers. But soon those wasted arms fell heavily on the bed;—my Margaret was gone;—thy mother was no more!"
De Vlierbeck's head fell on his breast. Lenora's bosom heaved convulsively as she took his hand without uttering a word; and, for a long time, nothing was heard in that sad confessional but the sobs of the maiden and the sighs of her heart-broken father.
"What I have yet to say," continued the poor gentleman, "is not so painful as what I have already told you: it concerns only myself. Perhaps it would be better if I said nothing about it; but I need a friend who possesses all my confidence and can sympathize with me thoroughly in all I have undergone for the last ten years.
"Listen, then, Lenora. Your mother was no more; she was gone;—she who was my last staff in life! I remained at Grinselhof alone with you, my child, and with my promise,—a promise made to God and to the dead! What should I do to fulfil it? Quit my hereditary estate? wander away seeking my fortune in foreign lands, and work for our mutual support? That would not do, for it would have devoted you at once to the chances of a wretched uncertainty. I could not think of such a course with any degree of satisfaction; nor was it till after long and anxious reflection that a ray of hope seemed to promise us both a happy future.