A. L. O. E.

“ How helpless Clemence felt in her loneliness then! Not a human being near to suggest a remedy or whisper a hope! She waited and watched for the doctor, till impatience worked itself up to torture. Why did he delay, oh, why did he delay, when life and death might hang on his coming! A train passed, and Clemence started, though by this time well accustomed to the sound. Amongst all the human beings—living, loving human beings—who passed in it so close to her cottage, there was not one to pity or to help—not one who could even guess the anguish and danger overshadowing the lone little dwelling! ”

“ Her foot was on one of the iron lines; she thought that she felt a vibration—was it not the wild fancy of her excited brain? It was sufficient to make the very blood seem to curdle in her veins, and to absorb all her senses in the one act of listening.
Yes!—yes!—yes!—the low, distant rumble that she knows too well,—it comes from behind, from the London down-train; the horror of death is to Clemence concentrated in each terrible moment, as, almost petrified with fear, she turns round to gaze! A fiery red eye gleams through the darkness ”

“ Clemence looked up to her husband as to one all wisdom and goodness. Mr. Effingham bore in the world a spotless name; he was liberal in his charities, and appeared earnest in his profession of religion. His young wife, with loving, trusting confidence, had twined her heart’s affections around him, as some fair creeper clasps with its tendrils a stately forest tree. No suspicion crossed her mind that any unworthy passion could have place in a heart that she deemed the abode of every virtue—that the tree so goodly to the eye could nourish a destroyer within. ”

“ Had the path of Clemence been strewn with nothing but flowers, it would have been a path much more fraught with peril. The unkindness and coldness which daily wounded her affectionate and sensitive spirit, were like thorny hedges which fenced her in from wandering from the narrow way. Had the cup of life been all sweetness, it is too probable that it might have intoxicated; Lady Selina and her nieces were unconsciously mixing with it a bitter but salutary medicine. Safer, far safer is it to have the worldly as enemies than as friends. ”

“ Can love, strong as death, enable that slight, fragile form to force its way through the piled heaps of snow which block up and almost obliterate the path? Can it give power to the young, delicate woman to face such a blast as strips the forest trees of their branches, and levels the young pines with the sod? For a short space Clemence struggles on, the fervour of her spirit supplying the deficiency in physical strength; but every yard is gained by such an effort, that she feels that her powers must soon give way. She could as well try to reach London as M——. ”

“ Clasping her hands in prayer, with her eyes raised for a moment to the lowering sky above, she faintly murmured the words, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me;” then rousing all her courage for the desperate attempt, she entered the gloomy tunnel.
No lingering step there—no doubting, hesitating heart! as with the painful duties which conscience had before imposed upon her shrinking nature, Clemence felt a necessity to go through, and through as quickly as possible. ”

“ Oh! what magic images of glittering splendour were conjured up before the mind’s eye of Louisa, by the name of a “London season!” And could she give up all this? could she endure to bury herself in dreary Cornwall, with no gaiety, no amusement, no admirers, like some flower doomed to—
“Blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air?” The idea was intolerable! Not gratitude, esteem, pity, conscience, were sufficient to fortify the poor girl against its terrors. She loved the world—she was of the world. Her idol had been shaken—but destroyed, never! ”

“ His sweet Clemence was not loved and valued in her home; she, his darling, his heart’s delight, was looked down upon by those who should have deemed it an honour to sun themselves in her smile! Such was the suspicion which flashed out into words of sudden indignation.
“Mrs. Effingham! and pray who may she be? I see here my niece, your father’s wife, your mother by marriage; but no one whom you or I can either speak or think of as ‘Mrs. Effingham!’”
The most insolent in temper are usually those who have least courage to back their insolence. ”

“ Nobody has idols in England.”
“I wish that I could think so,” replied Clemence.
“What! do you believe that there are any in this country?”
“I fear that there is scarcely a house in it that is really without one. Idols, dear Vincent, are not merely lifeless figures of silver or gold, such as the poor heathen worship; anything, everything that takes the place of God in the heart,—anything, everything that is loved more than Him is an idol, and brings on us the sin of idolatry.” ”

“ The door has opened, and the bride elect sees reflected in the mirror beside her own image that of another. She sees a face, not plain, but unpleasing—not coarse in its outlines, but hard in its expression; she sees him whom she is about to pledge herself to love, honour, and obey yet whom she regards with indifference—happy if indifference be not one day exchanged for fear, mistrust, and aversion! Louisa Effingham has for the second time made the world her deliberate choice. ”

“ In vain had been all her efforts to conciliate, all her attempts to win for herself the affections of her husband’s daughters. She saw stretching before her, in endless perspective, a prospect of disunion and dissension, proud insolence and malicious enmity. Clemence leaned her brow on her clasped hands, and the hot tears trickled slowly down her cheeks, as she repeated to herself the words of the wise king: Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith. ”

“ I seem to be breathing quite a different atmosphere—to have entered a world where ideas of right and wrong, important and trivial, are utterly unlike those to which I have been accustomed from my childhood. Except my beloved husband, there is no one here to whom I could speak the feelings of my heart, believing that they would be even understood. I wonder if, as I become experienced in the ways of the world, I shall gradually become like those around me—if I shall ever resemble Lady Selina!” A smile passed across Clemence’s face as the idea first suggested itself to her mind ”

“ The wings of Time sometimes appear to be clogged with lead. How wearily move the hours when anxious sorrow watches the shadow on the dial! Clemence’s prevailing feeling was an intense desire for tidings from her absent lord. If uneasy doubts would arise in her mind, a letter, she felt assured, would remove them. Her husband would make all clear. Whatever had occurred, no fault could rest with him; her loving faith in him was unshaken. Clemence started at every post-knock, and trembled when her room was hastily entered, so nervously was her mind on the watch for tidings. ”

“ Not one syllable of reproach, not even a hint of displeasure! What intense gratitude glowed in the heart of Clemence, deepening, if possible, the fervour of her love for the most noble, the most generous of men! But when she attempted to express something of what she felt, Mr. Effingham suddenly changed the subject; it appeared to be irksome, almost irritating to him to receive the grateful thanks of his wife.
The evening closed far more joyously to Clemence than the morning had begun. Her husband’s presence, as usual, sufficiently protected her from insolence on the part of his family. ”

“ I almost think that Vincent and I would enjoy life more in some country cottage, with just one maid to attend on us, away from all this grandeur and state, contented and happy in each other. Money does not seem worth all the care and trouble that it brings. I was much merrier last Christmas time, when, with my well-filled basket on my arm, I trod over the crisp snow on my way from cottage to cottage, sure of a welcome everywhere from lips that would not flatter and hearts that would not deceive! ”

“ When Clemence arose from her knees, Louisa was perfectly still, thanked her by a gentle pressure of the hand, and, closing her eyes, looked disposed to sleep. Clemence was thankful that the first step was over—that the sick, perhaps dying girl knew her peril, and might, through that knowledge, be led to seek better joys than those which she might now be quitting for ever. Her fever had not increased; it had appeared to be a solace to have one to whom she could lay open her doubts and fears—one who would intercede for her with her offended Maker. ”

“ O Vincent! how little have outward circumstances to do with real, solid enjoyment! Your presence gives an interest and zest to the pleasures which wealth may procure; but that presence would suffice to make me happy even in the midst of poverty.”
The thoughts of Mr. Effingham had wandered while Clemence was speaking; his eyes were fixed, not upon her, but upon the fire, as if watching the little gas-jets which caught fire for a moment, burned vividly, and then were suddenly extinguished in smoke. ”

“ Louisa glances into the mirror with a smile and a blush. It is chiefly by working upon her vanity that her aunt has obtained such influence over her weak and ill-regulated mind. It is an hour of pride to the maiden. About to change her name for a title—her present small abode for a luxurious house of her own—receiving congratulations from every quarter—her table covered with splendid gifts—rich jewels glittering on her fair brow—her childish heart is elated, and for the instant she believes herself happy. ”

“ In a few minutes Lady Selina was gently tapping at Mrs. Effingham’s door.
Clemence appeared seated at her little writing-table, pale but tearless. Louisa was weeping beside her. Vincent, standing a little apart, was repeating to himself half aloud, “Poverty is no disgrace,” as one who is determined to face the enemy with resolution. It is possible, however, that poverty presented itself to the mind of the boy as little beyond exemption from going to school, and was, therefore, no great trial of his youthful philosophy. ”

“ The lively Louisa, once gay as the butterfly sporting its silken wings in the sunshine, was stretched beside her on a bed of sickness; and though the apprehensions entertained on the sufferer’s account were now of a less alarming nature, her recovery was still precarious. Beneath these sources of sorrow lay one deeper—so deep that even to herself Clemence would not acknowledge its existence. Not for a moment would she entertain the thought that it was possible to find disappointment where hope had been sweetest ”

“ The entrance of Captain Thistlewood had considerable effect in breaking the ice of formality which lies like a crust upon London society, though in a manner that astonished the guests, and embarrassed the master and mistress of the house. The jovial sailor was as much at his ease in the polished circle as amidst shipmates round a cuddy table; and his loud voice and merry laugh, as he stood with his thumbs in his pockets, chatting with Louisa, created an unusual sensation.
“Who may that lively old gentleman be?” inquired Lord Vaughan of Lady Selina. ”

“ The exquisite paintings on the panelled wall, the grand piano with the graceful harp beside it, even the luxurious furniture, the crimson drapery of the satin curtains, and the rich softness of the velvet carpet, impressed Clemence’s mind with an idea of beauty and grandeur to which a girl not quite one and twenty years of age could scarcely be insensible. Frankly and artlessly the bride expressed her admiration, knowing that to do so would gratify her husband, who listened with a pleased smile ”

“ Lady Selina feels her strength decaying, but by artificial aids she attempts to hide the change from others—by wilful delusion from herself. She would ignore sickness, ignore trial, ignore death! And yet, in hours of solitude and weakness, truth, however unwelcome, will sometimes force its way; and those whose all is contained within the hour-glass of Time are constrained to watch the sands ever flowing, to see below the accumulating heap of infirmities, troubles, and cares, and mark above the hollow, inverted cone of ever-lessening pleasures. ”

“ One pale watcher sat listening to the storm beside the couch on which lay stretched a restless, fevered form: Clemence held her vigils in the chamber of sickness. Weary and exhausted though she was, sleep would have fled her eyelids on that night, even had she had no reason for watching. The events of the preceding day had been to Clemence as a terrible vision, and she was thankful for some hours of solitude and comparative stillness in which to collect her thoughts, calm her agitated mind, and cast the burden of her grief at the feet of her Master. ”

“ Clemence paused for some minutes and reflected. “I must learn to be able to say ‘No’—a painful task, from which my cowardice shrinks; I must be content sometimes not to please, and yet in indifferent matters be as careful—even more careful than ever—not to give offence or cause displeasure. I must exercise the grave duties of a housewife, nor from indolence or timidity shift upon others the responsibilities which God made mine when I became a wife. Mine own Vincent!”—her eye rested on the miniature of her husband—“would that I were more qualified to make his home what that home ought to be! ”