Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 15 (33 page)

 
          
“I
do not cast you off—I will love, pity, and forgive; believe this, and trust
your daughter, now that she is yours again.”

 
          
Cecil
spoke tenderly, and tried to reassure him with every affectionate demonstration
she could devise, for the one word “father” had unlocked her heart, and all its
pent-up passion flowed freely now that a natural vent was found. Lying with her
hand in his, August Stein told the story of the past, and Cecil learned the
secret of her fathers and her husband’s life.

 
          
“Dear,
nineteen years ago Bazil and your mother were betrothed. The gifted young man
was a fit mate for the beautiful girl, and but for me they might have been a
happy pair this day. In an evil hour I saw her, loved her, and resolved to win
her in spite of every obstacle, for my passions ruled me, and opposition only
made me the more resolute and reckless. I used every art to dazzle, captivate,
and win her, even against her will, and I succeeded; but the brief infatuation
was not love, and though she fled with me, she soon discovered that her heart
still clung to Bazil. Well it might, for though we had wronged him deeply he
took no revenge, and would have helped us in our sorest strait. We were not
happy, for I led a wild life, and your mother longed for home. Her father
disowned her, when our secret marriage was discovered, her friends deserted
her, and for a year we wandered from place to place, growing poorer and more
wretched as hope after hope failed. I had squandered my own fortune, and had no
means of earning a livelihood except my voice. That had won me my wife, and I
tried to sing my way to competence for her sake. To do this, I was obliged to
leave her; I always did so reluctantly, for the birth of my little daughter
made the mother dearer than before. Cecil, always remember that I loved you
both with all the fervor of an undisciplined nature, and let that fact lighten
your condemnation of what follows.”

 
          
“I
shall remember, Father.”

 
          
“Coming
home unexpectedly one day, I found Bazil there. He had discovered us and,
seeing our poverty, generously offered help. I should have thanked and honored
him for that, but knowing that he did it for Cecilia’s sake I hated and
distrusted him, refused his kindness, and forbade him the house. He bore with
me, promised your mother that he would befriend her, and went away, hoping I
would relent when I was calmer. His nobleness made my own conduct seem
more base
; the knowledge that my wife reproached me for
destroying her happiness wounded me deeply; and the thought that Bazil saw my
failure and pitied me rankled in my heart and made me miserable. I had been
brooding darkly over these things as I returned from my distasteful work a
night or two later, and was in a desperate mood. As I entered quietly, I saw a
man bending over the cradle where my baby lay; I thought it was Bazil, my wrath
rose hot against him, some devil goaded me to it, and I felled him with a
single blow. But when the light shone on his dead face I saw that it was not
Bazil but the young surgeon who had saved both wife and child for me.”

 
          
There
was a long pause, broken only by Stein’s fluttering breath and Cecil’s whisper.

 
          
“Do
not go on; be quiet and forget.”

 
          
“I
cannot forget or be quiet till I tell you everything. I was tried, sentenced to
imprisonment for life, and for ten years was as dead to the world as if I had
lain in my grave. I raged and pined like a savage creature in my prison, made
many desperate attempts to escape, and at last succeeded. I left Australia, and
after wandering east and west, a homeless vagabond for two weary years, I
ventured back to England, hoping to learn something of my wife, as no tidings
of her had reached me all those years. I could not find her, and dared not
openly inquire; Yorke tells me she concealed herself from everyone, accepted
nothing even from him, but devoted herself to you, and waited patiently till it
pleased heaven to release her.”

 
          
“Poor Mamma!
Now I know how heavy her burden must have been,
and why she longed to lay it down.”

 
          
“Child,
she did not find it half
so
heavy as I found mine, nor
long to lay it down as bitterly as I have longed for eighteen years. If she had
loved me it would have saved us both, for affection can win and hold me as
nothing else has power to do. It has done much for me already, because, since I
knew you, my darling, I have learned to repent and, for your sake, to atone, as
far as may be, for my wasted life.”

 
          
“It
is very sweet to hear you say that, Father, and to feel that I have helped you,
even unconsciously. Now leave the sorrowful past, and tell me how you found
Bazil and
myself
.”

 
          
“Growing
bold, after two years of safety, I ventured to inquire for Yorke, thinking that
he could tell me something of your mother. He had left Germany, where we first
met, and had gone home to America. I followed, and found him leading the
solitary life you know so well. He was so changed I hardly recognized him; I
was still more altered, and trusting to the disguise which had baffled keener
eyes than his, I offered myself as a model, feeling curiously drawn to him as
the one link between Cecilia and myself. He accepted my services, and paid me
well, for I was very poor; he pitied me, knowing only that I was a lonely
creature like himself, and so generously befriended me that I could not harden
my heart against him; but overpowered by remorse and gratitude I betrayed
myself, and put my life into his hands, only asking to see or hear of my wife.
He knew nothing of her then, but with a magnanimity that bound me to him
forever, he kept my secret, and endeavored to forgive the wrong which he never
could entirely forget.”

 
          
“O
Bazil, so generous, so gentle, why did I not know this
sooner,
and thank you as I ought?”

 
          
The
tender words were drowned in sudden tears, as Cecil hid her face, weeping with
mingled self-reproach and joy over each revelation that showed her something
more to love and honor in her husband. But she soon dried her tears to listen,
for her father hurried on as if anxious to be done.

 
          
“I
saw you, my child, the night you came, and was sure you were mine, you were so
like your mother. I implored Bazil to let me have you, when I knew that she was
gone, but he would not, having promised to guard you from me, and never let
your life be saddened by the knowledge of your convict father. He has kept that
promise sacredly, and bound me to an equal silence, under penalty of betrayal
if I break it, except as I do now, when I have nothing more to fear. He let me
see you secretly, when you slept, or walked, or were busy at your work, for he
had not the heart to deny me that. Ah, Cecil, you never knew how near I often
was to you—never guessed what right I had to love you, or how much I longed to
tell you who I was. More than once I forgot myself, and would have broken my
word at any cost, but something always checked me in time, and Baziks patience
was long-suffering. The night he let me see and sing to you did me more
good
than years of prison life, for you unconsciously
touched all that was best in me, and by the innocent affection that you could
not control made that hour more beautiful and precious than I can tell you.
Since then, whether near or absent, gloomy or gay, I have regarded you as my
saving angel, and tried in my poor way to be more worthy of you, and earn a
place in your memory when I am gone.”

 
          
Such
love and gratitude shone in his altered face that Cecil could only lay her head
upon his shoulder, praying that he might be spared for a longer, better life,
and a calmer death at last. Soon her father spoke again, smiling the old sweet
smile, as he caressed the beautiful head that leaned against him as if its
place were there.

 
          
“Did
my little girl think me a desperate lover, with my strange devices to attract
and win her? Bazil told me that I frightened you, and I tried to control
myself; but it was so hard to stand aside and see my own child pass me like a
stranger, that I continually forgot your ignorance and betrayed how dear you
were to me. What did you think of that mysterious Germain?”

 
          
“What
could I think but that he loved me? How could I dream that you were my father
when all my life I had believed you dead? Even now I almost doubt
it,
you are so young, so charming and lighthearted when you
please.”

 
          
“I
am past forty, Cecil, and what I am is only the shadow of what 1 was, a man
endowed with many good gifts; but all have been wasted or misused, owing to a
neglected education, a wayward will, an impetuous nature, and a sanguine
spirit, which has outlived disgrace and desolation, suffering and time.”

 
          
“And
this is the mystery that has perplexed me for so long. I think you might have
told me as well as Bazil, and let me do my part to make you happy, Father.”

 
          
“I
longed to do so, and assured him that we might trust you; but he would not
break his promise to your mother. It was wise, though very hard to bear. I was
not a fit guardian for a beautiful young girl like mine, and I knew it, yet I
wanted you, and made his life a burden to him by my importunity. Love him,
Cecil, love him faithfully, for he has spared you much sorrow, and through you
has saved your father.”

 
          
She
did not answer, but looking into her face, he was satisfied. Thus opening their
hearts to one another, the night wore on, yet neither found it long, and when
at last Stein slept, exhausted, Cecil sat beside him, thinking happy thoughts,
while the wind raved without, the rain beat on the low roof, the sea thundered
round the island, and Yorke went searching for her far and wide.

 
          
Morning
dawned at last, and as her father still slept, she opened the little window,
that the balmy air might refresh him, put up her signal of distress, and sat
down to watch and wait. The sound of hurrying feet roused her from her reverie,
and looking up, she saw her husband coming toward her, so changed and haggard
that her joy turned to fear. Dreading to excite her father, she instantly
glanced over her shoulder, and barred the entrance with her extended arm. Her
gesture, her expression, instantly arrested Yorke, and while Judas fawned
delightedly about her feet, he stood apart, with the sad certainty that she was
not alone, to mar his joy at finding her.

 
          
“Is
he there?” was his first question, sternly put.

 
          
“Yes;
he is ill and sleeping; you must not disturb him. Blame me if you will, but he
shall be left in peace.”

 
          
She
spoke resolutely, and closed the door between them and the sleeper, keeping her
place upon the threshold, as if ready to defend him, for Yorke’s manner alarmed
her even more than his wild appearance. The action seemed to affect him like an
insult; he seized her arm, and holding it in a painful grasp, eyed her almost
fiercely, as he said, with a glance that made her tremble, “Then you did leave
me sleeping, and go away with this man, to be wrecked here, and so be
discovered?”

 
          
“Yes;
why should I deny it?”

 
          
“And
you love him, Cecil?”

 
          
“With
all my heart and soul, and you can never part us anymore.”

 
          
As
she answered, with a brave, bright smile, and a glad voice, she felt Yorke
quiver as if he had received a blow, saw his face whiten, and heard an accent
of despair in his voice, when he said slowly, “You will leave him, if I command
it?”

 
          
“No—he
has borne enough. I can make him happy, and I shall cling to him through
everything, for you have no right to take me from him.”

 
          
“No
right?” ejaculated Yorke, loosening his hold, with a bewildered look.

 
          
“None that I will submit to, if it parts us.
You let me know
him, let me learn to love him, and now, when he needs me most, you would take
me from him. Bazil, you have been very generous, very kind to both of us, and I
am truly grateful, but while he lives, I must stay with him, because I have
promised.”

 
          
He
looked at her with a strange expression, at first as if he felt his senses
going, then he seemed to find a clue to her persistency. A bitter laugh escaped
him, but his voice betrayed wounded pride and poignant sorrow.