Marion Wade

“ Had her face been seen at that moment, it would have appeared pale—that is, paler than its wont: for the cheeks of Marion Wade could never have shown colourless. Even in death one might have fancied they would preserve that luminous roseate hue; which, like a halo, seemed constantly suspended over her countenance. ”

“ On parting from Marion Wade, Henry Holtspur should have been the happiest of men. The loveliest woman in the shire—to his eyes, in the world—had declared to him her love, and vowed eternal devotion. Its full fruition could not have given him firmer assurance of the fact.
And yet he was not happy. On the contrary, it was with a heavy heart that he rode away from the scene of that interview with his splendid sweetheart. He knew that the interview should not have occurred—that Marion Wade ought not to be his sweetheart! ”

“ That night no sleep for Marion Wade—not enough to give her a moment’s relief from the thoughts that tortured her. Her pillow was pressed, but with a pale and sleepless cheek; and often, during the night, had she risen from her couch, and paced the floor of her apartment, like one under the influence of a delirious dream.
The bosom that has been betrayed can alone understand the nature of her sufferings. Perhaps only a woman’s heart can fully appreciate the pain she was enduring? Hers had received into its inmost recesses—into the very citadel itself—the image of the heroic Holtspur. ”

“ He was too busy chafing at the disappointment of having left the house, without seeing her, to imagine for a moment that such a splendid fortune was still in store for him.
And the blood did tingle from the stirrups beneath his feet to the crown of his head—thrilled through every vein of his body—as, arriving opposite to the advancing form, he perceived it to be no peasant, but the peerless Marion Wade—she so exclusively occupying his thoughts. ”

“ Marion looked—“What is it?”
“Your hand.”
“That then is the price of my father’s life?”
“It is.”
“Captain Scarthe! what can my hand be worth to you, without—”
“Your heart, you would say? I must live in hopes to win that. Fair Marion, reflect! A woman’s heart may be won more than once.”
“Only once can it be lost.”
“Be it so. I must bear the chagrin. I shall bear it all the better, by having your hand. Marion Wade! I scorn further circumlocution. Give me what I have asked, and your father lives. Refuse it, and he must forfeit his head.” ”

“ Under her cheering light Holtspur sauntered leisurely along, reviewing over and over again the immediate and pleasant past; which, notwithstanding the clouds that lowered over his future, had the effect of tingeing it with a roseate effulgence.
There were perils before, as well as behind him. His liberty, as his life, was still in danger. He knew all this; but in the revel of that fond retrospect—with the soft voice of Marion Wade yet ringing in his ears—her kisses still clinging to his lips—how could he be otherwise than oblivious of danger? ”

“ Henry Holtspur was over thirty years of age, and Marion Wade had escaped from her teens. The passion that had sprung up between them was not the fond fancy of boyhood or girlhood. On his side it was the love of manhood; on hers an affection with a man for its object—a man mature, with a past to be proud of—one in whose face and features could be traced the souvenirs of gallant deeds—whose romantic mien betrayed a type of heroism not to be mistaken. ”

“ Behold the two couples, as they stand upon the green-tufted bank—overlooking the sports—pleased spectators of the people’s enjoyment.
For a short while your eyes will rest upon the more youthful pair—the pretty Lora Lovelace, and her cousin-husband Walter.
’Tis well you have first looked upon them: for your eye will scarce care to return to them. Once bent upon Marion Wade, it will not wish to wander away. There you will behold all those hues most distinguished in nature—the blue of the sky—the gold scattered by the sun—the radiance of the rose. ”

“ It was this thought that had momentarily deprived Marion Wade of her senses.
She had recovered them; but not along with them her tranquillity of spirit. To her that day had been one of fearful reflections. Every hour had its chapter of stinging thoughts—every minute its miserable emotion. Love and jealousy—sympathy and spite—had alternated all day long; each in turn holding possession of her tortured soul. ”

“ His jealous agony was scarce more acute, when, on reaching the row of chestnuts that bordered the avenue, and craning his neck outward to get a view, he saw a man come out from among the trees, and step up to the side of the steed; while at the same instant a white object, like a lady’s coverchief or scarf, fluttered amid the foliage that overhung the path.
The man he recognised: Henry Holtspur! The woman, though seen less distinctly, could be only the one occupying his thoughts—only Marion Wade! ”

“ It was too earnest to be resisted.
“It was not her, for whom I was waiting,” continued Holtspur, now more clearly comprehending the conduct that had surprised him. “It was for you, Marion—for you.”
“This shallow pretence is unworthy of you, sir; unworthy of a gentleman. How could you have expected to see me? Oh! weak that I have been to trust my reputation, to one who—”
“One who will lay down his life to guard it against being sullied by the slightest stain. Believe me, Marion Wade, it was to speak with you, I have stayed. ”

“ The tone of despondency in which this speech was delivered, struck sweetly on the ear of Marion Wade. It had the true ring of love’s utterance; and she intuitively recognised it. She could scarce conceal her joy as she made rejoinder:—
“Why should I be offended, either at your detaining the glove, or wearing it?” As she said this she regarded the cavalier with a forgiving smile. “The first was unavoidable; the other I ought to esteem an honour. Setting store by a lady’s favour is not the way, sir, to offend her.” ”

“ The sunbeams glittered upon tresses of a kindred colour—among which they seemed delighted to linger. They flashed into eyes as blue as the canopy whence they came; and the rose-coloured clouds, they had themselves created in the western sky, were not of fairer effulgence than the cheeks they appeared so fondly to kiss.
These were not in their brightest bloom. Though slightly blanched, neither were they pale. The strongest emotion could not produce absolute pallor on the cheeks of Marion Wade—where the rose never altogether gave place to the lily. ”

“ As Heaven is my judge, I have endeavoured to avoid it. I have tried not to love her; at times wished she should not love me. This was at first; but alas! no longer can I resist the sweet fascination. My heart has leaped beyond my control; and both soul and body must now obey its inclinings. Without the love of Marion Wade, I care not how soon my life may come to an end—not much either in what way—an ignominious gallows, or an honoured grave.
“Sir Marmaduke I must speak to in person. ”

“ The father has no right to restrain, or thwart, the inclinations of his child. I have never assumed such a power; nor shall I now—either in your favour, or against you. If you have won the heart of Marion Wade, you are welcome to wear it—welcome both to her heart and hand. If not, you need not look to me. So far as I am concerned, my daughter is free to accept whomsoever she may please, or reject whom she may dislike. Now, sir!” added the knight, in a tone that told of stern determination, “that matter is ended between us—I hope to your satisfaction.” ”

“ When she at length spoke, her answer told him, that he had misinterpreted her silence.
“Captain Scarthe,” said she, “you are a man of the world—one, as I have heard, skilled in the thoughts of our sex—”
“You flatter me,” interrupted he, making an effort to recover his customary coolness. “May I know why I am thus complimented?”
“I did not mean it in that sense. Only to say, that, knowing our nature as you do, you must be aware that what you ask is impossible? O, Sir! woman cannot give her heart. That must be taken from her.”
“And yours, Marion Wade?” ”

“ If in the mind of Marion Wade there existed a partiality for the patriot conspirator, a slight such as that should crush out every vestige of the feeling, and create a reaction in favour of the first fresh lover who might present himself—Richard Scarthe more likely than any other. Little did he anticipate the terrible effect which that returned token, with the message that accompanied it, would have upon her who was to receive it. He knew nothing of the strange conditions which the lovers had arranged at their last parting. ”

“ I’ve heard say she’s a great, big girl—nearly the head taller than Lora.”
“Lora?”
“Lora Lovelace—my cousin, sir.”
“’Tis his sister—’tis Marion. I thought as much. Marion Wade! A noble name. It has a bold clarion sound—in keeping with the character of her who bears it. Marion! Now know I the name of her who for weeks I have been worshipping! Who for weeks—”
“My cousin,” continued the candid young courtier, interrupting the silent reflections of his travelling companion, “is also a member of my father’s family. She has been staying at Bulstrode Park now for many years ”

“ After regarding them for some seconds—with the attention of an expert, in the act of deciphering some difficult manuscript—he took his pen, and wrote upon the parcel the words, “Mistress Marion Wade.”
“That will be enough,” reflected he. “The address is superfluous. It would never do for it to be delivered at the house. It must be put into her hands secretly, and as if sent by a trusty messenger. There’s no reason why she should mistrust the woodman Walford. She may know him to have been in Holtspur’s service, and can scarce have heard of his defection. He’ll do. ”

“ Thear be plenty more where they coom from; an’ I’m a bit hurried just now to see thy father. Yee up, then; an’ let us haste home’rd.”
The girl, not without some show of reluctance, obeyed, what appeared as much a mandate as a request; and, climbing to the croup, she extended her arms round the waist of him, who—though calling himself her lover—was, to her, an object of fear rather than affection.
Volume One—Chapter Four. Having re-entered the gates of the park, Marion Wade checked her palfrey into a walk; and, at this pace, continued on towards the paternal mansion. ”

“ But the bluff and busy tyrant was first, as he always was in his dealings with men.
“Here, Wade,” he shouted, “you shake hands with the prettiest girl in the north country! This is Miss Nina Ide, and this is my new time-keeper, Dwight Wade. He’s going to find that there’s more in lumbering than there is in being a college dude or teaching a school. Sit down, Wade.” ”

“ I am ready to follow you wherever you go. Your God shall be my God. Where you live I will live, and where you die, there will I die, and will be buried by your side. Nothing my beloved, but death, shall ever part me from you."
"Angelic Louisa!" cried Marion, snatching her to his bosom in transports — "Wondrous woman! what do I not owe to God, ever blessed, for such a comforter! I came just now from Rochelle with the load of a mountain on my heart. You have taken off that mountain, and substituted a joy most lightsome and heavenly. Like a ministering angel, you have confirmed me in duty ”

“ Davis. He was so glad to see me that he nearly wrung my hand off, and he insisted on walking home with us. He told me he was now manager of a theatrical company, and that he had been looking around for me ever since Lil told him I was in New York.
“Now, Marion,” he said, “you are going to begin where you left off in Montreal, and it’s up to you to make good. You’ve got it in you, and I want to be the man to prove it.”
I asked him what he meant, and he said he was{296} starting a new “show” in Boston that week, and that he had a part for me that would give me an opportunity. ”

“ It was no wonder, he reflected, in that almost womanless land, that many a cowpuncher rode the range by night, seeing her image in every star. The thought that each single man, and many a married one, in Crawling Water, would ride into the Pit itself to win one of her smiles, had been Wade's comfort, even when he was thinking of the possibility of bloodshed between the two hostile factions. ”

“ Marion's urbane voice, thin and smooth like a stretched membrane, the click of the front-door handle, the last mounting squeal from Roger, which was cut short by a gruff whine from Poppy, and, loudest of all, the silence that fell after the banging of the door. They heard the turn of the electric switch. Marion must be standing out there in the dark. But Ellen doubted that even if he had been with her in soul as in body, and had spoken to her the words she wished, she could have answered him as she ought, for a part of her soul too was standing out there in the dark with Marion. ”

“ No matter how stiff Moran's resistance proved, however, Wade felt very sure of the final result. He knew the men in his party and he knew that they meant business. He was relieved to believe that Dorothy and her mother would be safe at the ranch until [Pg 248] after the trouble was over, and that Helen and Senator Rexhill had left Crawling Water. The two factions were now arrayed against each other almost like opposing armies, and the cattleman shuddered to think what his state of mind would have been had Dorothy and Mrs. Purnell remained in Crawling Water. ”