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ᐸsamples n="ENG18760"ᐳ
ᐸsampleᐳᐸp n="ENG18760259"ᐳI was invalided and sent to Calcutta, where the best surgical help was at my disposal. To all appearance, the wound healed there—then broke out again. Twice this happened; and the medical men agreed that the best course to take would be to send me home. They calculated on the invigorating effect of the sea voyage, and, failing this, on the salutary influence of my native air. In the Indian climate I was pronounced incurable.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18760260"ᐳTwo days before the ship sailed a letter from my mother brought me startling news. My life to come—if I had a life to come—had been turned into a new channel. Mr. Germaine had died suddenly, of heart-disease. His will, bearing date at the time when I left England, bequeathed an income for life to my mother, and left the bulk of his property to me, on the one condition that I adopted his name. I accepted the condition, of course, and became George Germaine.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18760261"ᐳThree months later, my mother and I were restored to each other.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18760262"ᐳExcept that I still had some trouble with my wound, behold me now to all appearance one of the most enviable of existing mortals; promoted to the position of a wealthy gentleman; possessor of a house in London and of a country-seat in Perthshire; and, nevertheless, at twenty-three years of age, one of the most miserable men living!ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18760263"ᐳAnd Mary?ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18760264"ᐳIn the ten years that had now passed over, what had become of Mary?ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18760265"ᐳYou have heard my story. Read the few pages that follow, and you will hear hers.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18760266"ᐳWHAT I have now to tell you of Mary is derived from information obtained at a date in my life later by many years than any date of which I have written yet. Be pleased to remember this.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18760267"ᐳDermody, the bailiff, possessed relatives in London, of whom he occasionally spoke, and relatives in Scotland, whom he never mentioned. My father had a strong prejudice against the Scotch nation. Dermody knew his master well enough to be aware that the prejudice might extend to him, if he spoke of his Scotch kindred. He was a discreet man, and he never mentioned them.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18760268"ᐳOn leaving my father’s service, he had made his way, partly by land and partly by sea, to Glasgow—in which city his friends resided. With his character and his experience, Dermody was a man in a thousand to any master who was lucky enough to discover him. His friends bestirred themselves. In six weeks’ time he was placed in charge of a gentleman’s estate on the eastern coast of Scotland, and was comfortably established with his mother and his daughter in a new home.ᐸ/pᐳ
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ᐸsampleᐳᐸp n="ENG187601373"ᐳ“No, sir.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601374"ᐳ“Have any visitors called?”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601375"ᐳ“One visitor has called, sir.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601376"ᐳ“Do you know who it was?”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601377"ᐳThe porter mentioned the name of a celebrated physician—a man at the head of his profession in those days. I instantly took my hat and went to his house.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601378"ᐳHe had just returned from his round of visits. My card was taken to him, and was followed at once by my admission to his consulting-room.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601379"ᐳ“You have seen my mother,” I said. “Is she seriously ill? and have you not concealed it from her? For God’s sake, tell me the truth; I can bear it.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601380"ᐳThe great man took me kindly by the hand.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601381"ᐳ“Your mother stands in no need of any warning; she is herself aware of the critical state of her health,” he said. “She sent for me to confirm her own conviction. I could not conceal from her—I must not conceal from you—that the vital energies are sinking. She may live for some months longer in a milder air than the air of London. That is all I can say. At her age, her days are numbered.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601382"ᐳHe gave me time to steady myself under the blow; and then he placed his vast experience, his matured and consummate knowledge, at my disposal. From his dictation, I committed to writing the necessary instructions for watching over the frail tenure of my mother’s life.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601383"ᐳ“Let me give you one word of warning,” he said, as we parted. “Your mother is especially desirous that you should know nothing of the precarious condition of her health. Her one anxiety is to see you happy. If she discovers your visit to me, I will not answer for the consequences. Make the best excuse you can think of for at once taking her away from London, and, whatever you may feel in secret, keep up an appearance of good spirits in her presence.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601384"ᐳThat evening I made my excuse. It was easily found. I had only to tell my poor mother of Mrs. Van Brandt’s refusal to marry me, and there was an intelligible motive assigned for my proposing to leave London. The same night I wrote to inform Mrs. Van Brandt of the sad event which was the cause of my sudden departure, and to warn her that there no longer existed the slightest necessity for insuring her life. “My lawyers” (I wrote) “have undertaken to arrange Mr. Van Brandt’s affairs immediately. In a few hours he will be at liberty to accept the situation that has been offered to him.” The last lines of the letter assured her of my unalterable love, and entreated her to write to me before she left England.ᐸ/pᐳ
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ᐸsampleᐳᐸp n="ENG187601494"ᐳWith a heavy heart I looked round me. The old furniture—renewed, perhaps, in one or two places—asserted its mute claim to my recognition in every part of the room. The tender moonlight streamed slanting into the corner in which Mary and I used to nestle together while Dame Dermody was at the window reading her mystic books. Overshadowed by the obscurity in the opposite corner, I discovered the high-backed arm-chair of carved wood in which the Sibyl of the cottage sat on the memorable day when she warned us of our coming separation, and gave us her blessing for the last time. Looking next round the walls of the room, I recognized old friends wherever my eyes happened to rest—the gaudily colored prints; the framed pictures in fine needle-work, which we thought wonderful efforts of art; the old circular mirror to which I used to lift Mary when she wanted “to see her face in the glass.” Whenever the moonlight penetrated there, it showed me some familiar object that recalled my happiest days. Again the by-gone time looked back in mockery. Again the voices of the past came to me with their burden of reproach: See what your life was once! Is your life worth living now?ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601495"ᐳI sat down at the window, where I could just discover, here and there between the trees, the glimmer of the waters of the lake. I thought to myself: “Thus far my mortal journey has brought me. Why not end it here?”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601496"ᐳWho would grieve for me if my death were reported to-morrow? Of all living men, I had perhaps the smallest number of friends, the fewest duties to perform toward others, the least reason to hesitate at leaving a world which had no place in it for my ambition, no creature in it for my love.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601497"ᐳBesides, what necessity was there for letting it be known that my death was a death of my own seeking? It could easily be left to represent itself as a death by accident.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601498"ᐳOn that fine summer night, and after a long day of traveling, might I not naturally take a bath in the cool water before I went to bed? And, practiced as I was in the exercise of swimming, might it not nevertheless be my misfortune to be attacked by cramp? On the lonely shores of Greenwater Broad the cry of a drowning man would bring no help at night. The fatal accident would explain itself. There was literally but one difficulty in the way—the difficulty which had already occurred to my mind. Could I sufficiently master the animal instinct of self-preservation to deliberately let myself sink at the first plunge?ᐸ/pᐳ
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ᐸsampleᐳᐸp n="ENG18760670"ᐳ“For your own sake” (the letter ran) “make no attempt to see me, and take no notice of an invitation which I fear you will receive with this note. I am living a degraded life. I have sunk beneath your notice. You owe it to yourself, sir, to forget the miserable woman who now writes to you for the last time, and bids you gratefully a last farewell.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18760671"ᐳThose sad lines were signed in initials only. It is needless to say that they merely strengthened my resolution to see her at all hazards. I kissed the paper on which her hand had rested, and then I turned to the second letter. It contained the “invitation” to which my correspondent had alluded, and it was expressed in these terms:ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18760672"ᐳ“Mr. Van Brandt presents his compliments to Mr. Germaine, and begs to apologize for the somewhat abrupt manner in which he received Mr. Germaine’s polite advances. Mr. Van Brandt suffers habitually from nervous irritability, and he felt particularly ill last night. He trusts Mr. Germaine will receive this candid explanation in the spirit in which it is offered; and he begs to add that Mrs. Van Brandt will be delighted to receive Mr. Germaine whenever he may find it convenient to favor her with a visit.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18760673"ᐳThat Mr. Van Brandt had some sordid interest of his own to serve in writing this grotesquely impudent composition, and that the unhappy woman who bore his name was heartily ashamed of the proceeding on which he had ventured, were conclusions easily drawn after reading the two letters. The suspicion of the man and of his motives which I naturally felt produced no hesitation in my mind as to the course which I had determined to pursue. On the contrary, I rejoiced that my way to an interview with Mrs. Van Brandt was smoothed, no matter with what motives, by Mr. Van Brandt himself.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18760674"ᐳI waited at home until noon, and then I could wait no longer. Leaving a message of excuse for my mother (I had just sense of shame enough left to shrink from facing her), I hastened away to profit by my invitation on the very day when I received it.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG18760675"ᐳAs I lifted my hand to ring the house bell, the door was opened from within, and no less a person than Mr. Van Brandt himself stood before me. He had his hat on. We had evidently met just as he was going out.ᐸ/pᐳ
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ᐸsampleᐳᐸp n="ENG187601659"ᐳI too looked at Elfie. Might she not, I asked myself, be made the innocent means of forcing her mother to leave the house? Trusting to the child’s fearless character, and her eagerness to see the boat, I suddenly opened the door. As I had anticipated, she instantly ran out. The second door, leading into the square, I had not closed when I entered the courtyard. In another moment Elfie was out in the square, triumphing in her freedom. The shrill little voice broke the death-like stillness of the place and hour, calling to me again and again to take her to the boat.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601660"ᐳI turned to Mrs. Van Brandt. The stratagem had succeeded. Elfie’s mother could hardly refuse to follow when Elfie led the way.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601661"ᐳ“Will you go with us?” I asked. “Or must I send the money back by the child?”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601662"ᐳHer eyes rested on me for a moment with a deepening expression of distrust, then looked away again. She began to turn pale. “You are not like yourself to-night,” she said. Without a word more, she took her hat and cloak and went out before me into the square. I followed her, closing the doors behind me. She made an attempt to induce the child to approach her. “Come, darling,” she said, enticingly—“come and take my hand.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601663"ᐳBut Elfie was not to be caught: she took to her heels, and answered from a safe distance. “No,” said the child; “you will take me back and put me to bed.” She retreated a little further, and held up the key: “I shall go first,” she cried, “and open the door.”ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601664"ᐳShe trotted off a few steps in the direction of the harbor, and waited for what was to happen next. Her mother suddenly turned, and looked close at me under the light of the stars.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601665"ᐳ“Are the sailors on board the boat?” she asked.ᐸ/pᐳ
ᐸp n="ENG187601666"ᐳThe question startled me. Had she any suspicion of my purpose? Had my face warned her of lurking danger if she went to the boat? It was impossible. The more likely motive for her inquiry was to find a new excuse for not accompanying me to the harbor. If I told her that the men were on board, she might answer, “Why not employ one of your sailors to bring the money to me at the house?” I took care to anticipate the suggestion in making my reply.ᐸ/pᐳ
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