and never can say the right thing at the right time to him as. I can to others." "You love him-that is the reason! And you are a fool if you do not know it, or a hypocrite if, knowing it, you deny it. But he despises your love! He said to you himself that no gentleman would be likely to be a suitor for your hand!" "I know he did, lady. His care for me makes him say rough, blunt things sometimes. I can bear them from him." "You love him; deny it, if you dare! But you are an idiot! an idiot! if you do not take his hint to conquer that passion! He said it was not likely that any gentleman would ever become a suitor for your hand. He is a gentleman; therefore he can never stoop to you! You do not answer Do you, perchance, deceive yourself with the idea that he ever will ?” ́ me. Lady, no; I do not deceive myself with the idea that he will ever stoop' to marry me. The woman that Major Clifton shall marry, if he ever marries, will be quite worthy of him; and that will preclude the idea of his stooping to her." "And that woman will not be you, presumptuous girl! Do you dare to hope it will? Speak-answer me!" Lady!" said Catherine in a tone of grave and dignified rebuke, "considering the recent bereavement of Major Clifton, the discussion into which you have drawn me is indelicate, to use no harsher term !" "Recent! It is of five months' standing! You evade my question-you evade all my questions! I asked you if you loved him? Answer me!" 66 Lady, long ago my heart became too unruly for my own management, and I gave it, with all its desires and affections, to God. I love nothing out of Him." 66 And do you expect Archer Clifton will ever marry you ? Answer that!" Lady, I hope nothing." "You prevaricate, girld Do you wish it, then ?" Madam, I only wish that God may appoint all times. seasons, and events in my life-making me humble, generous. and grateful in prosperity, if it comes; and strong, coura geous, and patient in adversity, if, as is most likely, that comes. 66 وو Humph! Would it make you happy to be the wife of Archer Clifton ?" Mrs. Clifton, you have no right to ask me that question." And I decline giving it." "I am answered. You love Archer Clifton ! You feed your heart upon the secret hope of one day being his wife! And now listen to me, girl!" she exclaimed, every vestige of prudence and self-restraint swept away by her rising passion, "I, too, day and night, feed my soul upon one desperate hope that I live for, would die for, or go to perdition for! I, too, love Clifton. I loved him the first hour I ever saw him; I have loved him ever since, only more madly for every obstacle, danger, duty that stood between, dividing us! I have schemed, dared, sinned for him! Twice he has been snatched from me by fate, twice restored to my hopes. Oh, I know my own strong will had much to do with that restoration! He is given to my hopes again! Think you, now, that you can win him from me? No, idiot! If there be any power in my own soul, on earth, in heaven, or in hell to help me, I will find it out and enlist it to give me this one desire of my heart-this man's love! Since first I ever beheld his face, I have dreamed, hoped, toiled, lived for nothing else! I have suffered for him! Oh! angels and devils, how I have suffered for him! In the days when he came wooing Carolyn-wooing her before the face of me, bound with indissoluble chains-me, loving him as she had no power or conception of loving anything-many times I was almost mad with despair; knowing, too, if he would only love me, I should be nearly mad with joy! I have sacrificed great prospects for him--yes, little as you think me capable of it. This summer I might have made a splendid alliance in Richmond-a travelling nobleman-an English nobleman, girl! a baron with an annual rental of thirty thousand pounds sterling! I rejected him, when I knew that Clifton was free! In the faint hope of winning Clifton, I would not bind myself. All that I have ever done of good or of evil has had him for its end and object. I was the belle, queen, idol of Richmond! If I schemed and toiled for a position, and gloried in my success, it was that he might hear of it, and his pride might be enlisted for me. You saw me one winter at the Governor's reception. You saw how I was worshipped there. But he was present, and free; and I did not care what the thousands thought of me-I only cared what that unit might think!" Her voice sank into tenderness, and she paused, and dropped her brow into both open hands; but soon raising her head again, she said, "Look at me well! Ay, look! What sort of a rival do you take me to be? If you cannot guess, I will tell you: I am not superstitious or scrupulous as you are. I am one who, for my soul's great passion, will do, or dare, or suffer anything! I ask no leave of earth or heaven for what I do! I do what I will, or can, and take the consequences; earth or heaven can but punish, and I can risk or bear it for there is no pain or loss in the universe that I weigh with the loss of my love; and not for the fear of eternal perdition, not for the hope of everlasting salvation, will I forego the joy of my mortal love! Now, hear me, girl!" She rose upon her feet, bending over Catherine, with her hand clutched upon the maiden's shoulder with a vicelike grip, and gazing into her eyes with contracted, gleaming pupils, she said, while her voice dropped into the low, deep, stern tone of intense and concentrated passion in which every word, syllable, letter, was articulated with a distinct, metallic ring-"Now, hear me ! If you dare to come between me and my love, by the living Lord that sent my burning soul upon this dull earth, and who can hurl it hence to a burning perdition, I will find a way to kill you! Do you hear me?" Catherine grew pale beneath the tiger eye and clutch of the fearful woman; but she answered, "Madam, I have heard you utter wild and wicked words. I will endeavour to forget them." "Remember them! You are warned!" and, releasing her hold, the dark lady passed from the room. Catherine remained sitting where she had left her, appalled by the exhibition of demoniac passion she had witnessed. One pain and one fear possessed her above all others-deep regret that this most wicked woman had evidently already attained such an ascendancy over the mind of Clifton, and dread lest, in despite of all the sin, she would gain her object-his But Catherine carried all her doubts and fears to her heavenly Father; and soon to her clear, strong mind it hand. became evident that, however wicked and unscrupulous, potent and dangerous the Circe might be on ordinary occasions, she possessed too little self-government, was under the influence of too strong and impetuous passions, to succeed in maintaining any long course of duplicity, such as would be necessary to the accomplishment of her purpose. And Kate became calm. She wished to leave the house. She could ill bear to live under the same roof with this woman, and meet her at least three times a day, at meals, if no oftener; but she had promised Major Clifton to remain with Mrs. Georgia until she should have other company, and she must keep her promise. It was, besides, doubly sacred, being made to him; and the pain it brought her was endurable, borne for him. Mrs. Georgia sought the garden, the open air, anywhere where she could breathe freely. When the storm in her bosom had subsided, and reason was again in the ascendant, she could have torn her hair and beat her breast-yea, and rent her garments-with excess of chagrin, to think that she had so betrayed herself to Catherine. She did not fully believe that Catherine would repeat this scene where it could injure her, or anywhere in fact; still, she thought it safer to guard against such a contingency; and, while she herself still possessed the unshaken confidence and respect of Major Clifton, to impugn the conduct and character of Catherine, and thus forestall and invalidate any testimony she might hereafter give. She felt that she must proceed very cautiously. A plan of correspondence had been arranged with Major Clifton previous to his departure. She soon began to receive long letters from him, filled with interesting descriptions of the countries through which he passed, the people whom he met, and philosophical comments upon both; and to these she replied in other letters, full of appreciation, admiration, gratitude, and breathing, besides, the highest, purest, most disinterested sentiments and opinions upon all the subjects of their correspondence. Into these letters she gradually introduced the name of Catherine-carelessly, at first, as if she thought little about her, one way or the other, as thus: "Catherine is with me still-she desires to be remembered;" then, in a second letter, by a slight line of praise, as though the girl was rather winning upon her, as: Catherine is well. By the way, what a remarkably 66 clever girl she is!" then, in another, with warmer panegyric, as though she really very much improved upon longer acquaintance, thus: "How can I ever thank you sufficiently for placing Catherine with me?" Next came high encomius upon Catherine's talents, in this wise: Catherine has left me, and is with your mother, as, no doubt, the latter has written you. A propos, what a mind that girl has! Did you ever observe?" and then, in a subsequent epistle, came an expression of wonder at the "diplomatic" character of Kate's intellect, and an opinion that the writer really believed her thrown away in private life; and next, a cooler mention of the maiden, with the hint of a fear that she was gaining the mastery over Mrs. Clifton's strong mind; finally, after some months, she wrote thus, as if speaking frankly from a sense of duty, and at the cost of great pain: "I fear that I have been greatly deceived in my estimate of Catherine's good principles. How shall I introduce what I am about to say to you? But you had best come home and see for yourself; for I know that your mother is in the power of as dangerous an intriguante as I ever heard of; and mind, she will influence Mrs. Clifton to disinherit her own son, and bequeath her the farm at Hardbargain. That 'Maria Theresa' brow of hers meant something, after all. But you do not know with what pain I write this, Archer. I cannot pursue the subject-only regard for you, and fidelity to your interests, would have drawn me to its discussion. I advise you to come home and look after your own welfare." What influence this had upon Major Clifton will be seen in the sequel. And while Georgia was exercising her power abroad, she was busy at home also. Having heard or guessed at Colonel Conyer's "foolish" attachment to Catherine, she wrote and invited him to make up a party of his own friends, and come down and spend Christmas with her; and the gallant officer, delighted with this quintessence and perfection of confidence and hospitality-this carte blanche to be filled up at his own pleasure-wrote and most gratefully accepted the invitation for himself and friends." |