Robert Williams Buchanan

“ It was many weeks after these sad events that Forster came one day to St. John’s Wood, and found Madeline still sitting in the shadow of her great grief; but she had found one sweet comfort in looking over her guardian’s papers and placing them in order with her loving hand, for she remembered one lifelong dream of the poor Bohemian—to see his beloved plays arranged together and published in book form; and she thought to herself that the world should know what a beautiful genius it had lost, when it saw the creatures of his imagination gathered together for the first time. ”

“ I’m ashamed of my art when I compare my miserable attempt to the reality.’
‘It is very like,’ said Forster thoughtfully, studying before the canvas; ‘but too sorrowful; too sorrowful! I should not like to see Miss Hazelmere look like that.’
‘You see, it’s an “Ophelia,”’ observed Serena apologetically.
‘I would rather you had painted her as smiling and happy. So young a face should not reveal such depths of suffering. There is no hope here, and in Miss Hazelmere’s face all should be hope and happiness.’
Turning to glance at Madeline, he was startled and surprised. ”

“ That sooner than let you bring disgrace and sorrow to him I will make a sacrifice of myself, perhaps of you!’
‘Parbleu, but you are heroic,’ sneered the Frenchman.
‘What I am,’ continued Madeline, ‘I am; thanks to you, and you only. I have been dragged as low almost as the women who nightly walk the streets. Now you come to me and ask me to return to shame and degradation. Your wife I may be, as you say, but sooner than return to you and live with you—in honourable wedlock, as the world would call it—I would destroy myself. ”

“ Forster heard her out with a strange sickness of heart; and when she had finished he looked at her with a face so wistful, so sorrowful, that she could no longer restrain her tears.
‘Oh, James!’ she cried, ‘forget her! She was never worthy of your love. Think of those who do love you—and of your child!’
He answered her in a voice hollow but determined—
‘My first thought must be of her. What you have told me confirms me in my opinion that she is sinless. Until I find her and ask her forgiveness, I shall not rest. O Madeline! my love! ”

“ Don’t mind me, but go to the theatre and enjoy yourself. Good—good-bye!’
Not ‘good-night,’ but ‘good-bye.’ He did not notice the words then, but they recurred to him long afterwards, with an ominous and piteous sound. As she uttered them, she yielded to an irresistible impulse, and, quickly returning to his side, stooped over him and kissed him. As she did so, he felt a hot tear fall upon his cheek.
‘Madeline, my darling!’ he cried in astonishment, and stretched out his arms to embrace her, but before he could do so she was gone. ”

“ As one standing safe on some dark river’s shore watches the struggles of an almost spent drowning man, and forgets everything in the intense dread and horror of the contemplation, so she watched the sick bed; unable to weep, unable to pray (for, indeed, her hopes and fears seldom at any time took the shape of prayer) , but feeling always as if with the slow ebb of her guardian’s life her life was ebbing too. For White, she felt, was her only friend in this hard world, the only being who knew the full extent of her own sorrow, the only kind soul for whom she cared to live. ”

“ Very pretty it was, as well as pitiful, to see Madeline (whom we shall call by her assumed name no longer) lead the little man to the garden seat, sit by his side, hold his hand, and look fondly in his eyes, as she questioned him, lifting his rough hand to kiss it from time to time. The weight of years, the burden of sorrow, had rolled away from her in a moment, and she was a child again, while the heaven that ‘bends above us in our infancy’ was opening over her—bright, tranquil, peaceful, and divine. ”

“ Despite her bereavement, Madeline could not help feeling glad at the thought of realising her dream at last. Childish griefs are not very enduring, and at another time a visit to London would have sent her mad with joy. But her pleasure was considerably damped when she saw Aunt Jane cry so, and Uncle Luke look so very sad.
‘Madlin, darlin’,’ cried Mrs. Peartree, embracing her for the twentieth time, ‘you’re a-going to see kind friends up in London; and maybe, if you’re a good girl, they’ll ask you to stay a bit, and see the wax-work, and all the fine sights. ”

“ At the first glance the lady appears to be young—her step is elastic, her figure slight; but when she comes right into the room, and stands beneath the glare of the gaslight, one can see at a glance that her age must be nearly sixty.
Her hair, which is brushed very smooth beneath her widow’s bonnet, is white as snow, and her whole face bears the unmistakable stamp of care. Madeline is glad; the widow’s mourning, the white hair and wrinkled face, seem to shed all over her the halo of respectability. ”

“ It was a sorrowful group, and the warmth and comfort of the surroundings seemed to make the sorrow of parting more keen. There was a death-like silence in the room, the ticking of the old Dutch clock in the corner rang out bell-like and clear, and between the ticks came the stifled sobs of Madeline and Uncle Luke. The kettle was singing on the hob, the cat purring on the hearth, and the sun-rays creeping in through the window touched the bowed heads of those about the sofa, and laid a soft caressing hand on the child’s trembling form. ”

“ This seemed to unsettle Uncle Luke altogether, and he murmured eagerly—
‘All right, Madlin, I shan’t tell.’
And Madeline knew well that a promise of this sort from Uncle Luke was as good as an oath from any other man. They quickened their pace, but she continued to play with and fondle his hand, and now and then to hold it to her lips. Confidence of this sort was what the little man loved best of all things in the world, and the smile upon his face grew broad and bright with intelligent content. ”

“ She has grown to detest the wine, for whenever she sips it she seems to feel that strange drowsiness increase; but Madame de Fontenay, who is not quite so yielding as she has been heretofore, takes the girl’s nerveless hands in her own, and, holding the glass to her bloodless lips, forces her to drink.
The train speeds on, the hours go by wearily and slowly, and with the passing of every hour the darkness deepens. Madeline, feeling utterly prostrated and paralysed, sits helpless in her corner of the carriage, and Madame de Fontenay sleeps. ”

“ Why in Heaven’s name should Woman remain for ever the slave of Virtue? I would make her the archpriestess of the Beautiful, ministering to mortals in all the passionate nudity of Art.’
‘And you, monsieur?’ said Sutherland, turning suddenly to Gavrolles. ‘What is your opinion?’
‘Oh, I am an artiste,’ answered the Frenchman, with a shrug of the shoulders and an unpleasant smile. ‘I, too, would make woman the priestess of Beauty. ”

“ Whatever you are, I am no better than yourself. Twenty years ago I left a good husband, and lived in wickedness and shame with another man, who afterwards abandoned me. I have suffered a great deal, though no more than I deserve.’
Raising herself upon her elbow, the woman calling herself Jane Pear tree gazed in amazement at the calm grey sister, who, without a tremor in her voice, coldly proclaimed her own sin to a stranger.
‘I am no better than the worst here,’ said Sister Ursula; ‘but my own experience has helped me to be of service to those who, like myself, have sinned and suffered. ”

“ Some few months before that day, when, in answer to an appeal from her, White had offered her a home, with himself and ward, she had come full of her own troubles, expecting to find a bright-eyed vivacious beautiful girl to soothe and cheer her. But instead of being the comforted she became the comforter. The first sight of the girl rent her heartstrings. Could this be Madeline Hazelmere? Could this be the lissome blue-eyed child, who had been the very impersonation of happy impulse and joy? This woman with the pale cheeks and strange, sad eyes? ”

“ The waiter bows and withdraws. An elderly chambermaid soon appears, and shows Madeline up to a great bedroom, grim and lonely as an empty barn, with one little chilly bed in the corner. There are no curtains to the window, and the moonlight is creeping in with a ghastly gleam.
Left alone, Madeline resigns herself to remorse and despair, and sobs as if her heart would break. An hour passes thus. Then the chambermaid appears with the intimation that Monsieur is waiting dinner, and is impatient. After a moment’s hesitation Madeline descends. ”

“ It was clear that the Peartrees thought him her natural guardian, and could not comprehend that he stood in no closer relationship to her than they did themselves.
He looked at Madeline, and was astonished to see her so fair and elf-like, with a touch in her eyes of his poor dead friend, the literary Bohemian. Somehow or other he had always pictured her as a fat little country cherub, with very hard cheeks, a pug nose, and ugly feet. As she gazed at him with her great blue eyes, he felt troubled more and more.
‘You don’t remember poor Fred Hazelmere?’ he said to Cheveley. ”

“ A crowd was gathered round the theatre door, cabs rattled up and down, streams of people moved hither and thither, as if in a feverish dream. Once in the open air, White paused to hail a cab, but Madeline stopped him.
‘Let us walk,’ she said quickly. ‘I am so excited, and a breath of this cool air will do me good.’
‘As you please, my dear,’ returned White, and, clasping her hand more firmly upon his arm, he led her through the ever-moving crowd. What a crowd it was! Men and women, old and young, rich and poor, mingling together in one perpetual eddy; shivering, starving, half-clad children ”

“ The little man, still holding his hat in his hand, looked at the Rector, then looked at Madeline, then smiled imbecilely, then, feeling the smile out of place, tried to frown, but only succeeded in distorting his good-humoured countenance into a confirmed grin. Then suddenly darting his mouth down to the little girl’s ear, he hoarsely whispered—
‘What is it, Madlin? What’s the matter?’
‘Polly Lowther was teaching me to cut and shuffle,’ said the girl out loud, fixing her eyes in a fearless way on the Rector; ‘and Parson came out and found us, and all the others ran away. ”

“ Her sleep is evidently of the lightest, for whenever the train stops she starts to her feet, rushes to the door and keeps her stand there, while sounds of feet rise and die upon the platform, and the train moves on again. Madeline tries to rise, but her strength fails her; she tries to speak—the words die upon her lips in a faint inarticulate sound—something catches her breath and parches her tongue. Thus the night passes.
Dawn breaks, and almost with the first streak of daybreak the train comes to a stand again, and Madeline is assisted out. ”

“ He takes her hand, bends over it, and kisses it—and leaves the girl alone.
For a time Madeline stands quite still, stupefied by the very intensity of her relief. She rests her elbow on the mantelpiece, drops her cheeks upon her hands, and fixes her eyes upon the windows, as if to watch the slowly gathering gloom. She feels no self-pity; on the events which will probably transpire on the morrow her imagination refuses to dwell; she can think only of M’sieur Belleisle—of his goodness, his self-sacrifice, his devotion. ”

“ Madeline assents. She sits in the window allowing the widow to stroke her feverishly burning hand; but as that strange drowsiness oppresses her more and more, she goes to bed and falls into a heavy slumber.
When she awakens it is broad day; a figure dressed in black is bending above her, holding a tray. Madeline rubs her eyes—then, looking through a mist which seems to obscure her sight, she recognises the pale, bloodless features of Madame de Fontenay; she looks round the room, everything is misted; she rises in bed, and finds she can scarcely sit up. ”

“ It is not every man who would permit a complete stranger to dictate to him on a matter concerning only himself and madame his wife.’
‘What do you mean?’ cried Sutherland, now thoroughly startled. ‘You cannot mean that——’
‘If you will permit me,’ said Gavrolles, now thoroughly master of the situation, ‘I will explain; but bear in mind, monsieur, you have forced this avowal upon me by your brutal English violence. Otherwise, I should never have spoken. You have been good enough, Monsieur Sutherland, to say that I am a liar. Au contraire, I do not lie. ”

“ In these hours of sorrow the frequent presence of Forster was a secret source of irritation to the troubled girl. His very devotion troubled her, for she seemed to read in it, not merely friendly kindness and affection, but an ever-encroaching assumption of a higher sympathy. He was a good man, a true friend, she knew, but she would have loved him far better if he had loved her less, and her mind was quite made up—if her dear guardian died, no living man, friend or husband, should ever take his place. ”

“ I feel like a girl who has been shrouded for the grave and who still exists, but who will never have the wholesome, happy life of good people. Do not ask me to marry. Choose some innocent girl, and give your love to her.’
‘We cannot love as we will,’ said Forster, earnestly, ‘but as God wills; and I have given my love to you. Dearest, it is just because you have been unhappy that I yearn to bring you happiness; just because you have been wronged that I long to make amends. ”