Page images
PDF
EPUB

Reverend Mother Monica-she was Mrs. O'Toole before she took the Vows; excuse me for mentioning all these apparent trifles-I remained till I had attained my sixteenth year. Then, when the world, as I fondly expected, was just about to open to me, as a brilliant flower unfolds its petals, I was summoned one morning to the apartment of the reverend mother. She received me with that benignity, that maternal kindness which she had always shown me; but there was agitation in her manner, as if she had some intelligence of an extraordinary nature to communicate, and was uncertain how I might receive it. But perhaps I tire you?"

"Oh no! I could listen to you"-Tomkins checked himself—“the whole evening. Pray go on."

"Clotilde,' she said, producing a letter, the broken seal of which displayed the armorial bearings of our house, here is a letter from your noble father, the Comte de Manqued'argent, in which he expresses to me what are his intentions regarding your future life. Prepare yourself for the mandate I have to convey.'

"I hope I am not to leave you!' I exclaimed, tears filling my eyes at the thought.

"There was tenderness mixed with sorrow in the tone in which she replied: Alas, yes! That is one part-to me, the most distressing part -of this communication.'

"Is there more, then?' I cried. 'What greater misfortune can befal me?'

[ocr errors]

"Calm yourself, my child,' said the reverend mother. They who mingle in the world's gay throng, which I have abandoned these forty years' and here she crossed herself devoutly-do not consider that a misfortune of which I have next to speak. Now that you have reached the verge of womanhood, your father has resolved that you shall be married.' "I threw myself on my knees before the Superior, and my pent-up tears burst forth. 'Utter not such cruel words,' I sobbed. you are only jesting with your Clotilde. Let me be the bride of Heaven!'

66 6

Say that

'Knowing, as I do, the perfect innocence and purity of your character,' replied the reverend mother, I was prepared for this. But, Clotilde, it cannot be. You must submit. A father's will is, in this instance, paramount to all other considerations.'

[ocr errors]

'It was in vain I urged my youth, my inexperience, my maidenly dread; but I will not prolong the description of the scene. Let it suffice for me to say that I was compelled to obey my father's behests, and accept the hand of one whom I had never seen. I will not, therefore, dwell on the agony of my separation from the reverend mother and my companions, Sister Agatha and Sister Clare, both daughters of Irish peers, my dearest friends, but simply say, that in the midst of a shower of claustral embraces, I was torn from my childhood's home, and weepingly accompanied the Marquise de Cattamaranne, the envoy sent to conduct me to Paris. Madame de Cattamaranne, though hideous, and inordinately fond of snuff, was at heart an excellent creature, and exerted herself to console me on our journey, whispering of jewels, laces, cashmeres, carriages, and all the paraphernalia of luxury which would shortly be at my command. I turned as deaf an ear to the description then, as I look

coldly on the realities now; but I could not avoid my fate. But I feel certain I fatigue you."

Again Signor Tomkins made an earnest disclaimer, and the Countess proceeded :

66

'My trousseau was the envy of Paris. Madame Coqueluche, of the Rue de Grammont, had never before prepared anything half so beautiful. But what was it to me, who still sighed for the simple robe of grey, trimmed with pink, which I wore with childish pride at the House of Our Lady of the Seven Afflictions. We were married at the Madeleine, in the presence of the numerous relations on both sides-the civil ceremony having previously been gone through at the Mairie of the twelfth arrondissement-and a more brilliant wedding, it was said, had never been known. My recollection of the scene is, however, utterly dim and obThere floated before me a vision of orange flowers and richlyrobed priests-there swam through my brain a form of words. I have a confused recollection that my clammy hand was placed in that of another -I can just remember that I was led from the altar to a splendid carriage that awaited me at the foot of the church steps; but beyond that my memory entirely fails to serve me. All I positively know is, that on recovering from the swoon into which I had fallen, I found myself in the arms of my husband! Excuse my present weakness."

scure.

The Countess put her perfumed handkerchief before her eyes. Signor Tomkins, though a prey to the most violent emotion, remained silent, gasping the sympathy he had no words for. Once more the lady spoke :

[ocr errors]

'My husband! Yes! I was now the Comtesse de Crèvecœur! The wife of one of the richest nobles in the land,-but-sixteen years consigned to seventy! No 'bal de noces' was mine that evening, for Monsieur de Crèvecœur was an invalid, and proceeded direct to the Baths of Vichy, before conveying me to one of his chateaux in Gascony. I have mentioned my husband's age,- -nor did he look a moment younger. Fancy a tall, thin old man-voûté-with a face of extreme pallor-what is termed a tête de mort-its ghastly hue increased by that subterfuge to which the old appeal when they simulate what I believe you call thethe whiskers-of the young. Of other peculiarities I will not speak, nor of myself say anything, but there was at least a contrast suggested to those who beheld us."

"I should think so!" exclaimed Signor Tomkins, with a look that made the blood mantle on the cheeks of the countess.

"There was," she resumed, "as great a difference in our mental dispositions as in our outward appearance. My husband was devoted to scientific pursuits, chiefly in an amphibious direction, his time being almost entirely passed in his museum, surrounded by reptiles of all kinds, which it was his pleasure to dissect, set up and prepare; while my fancies were altogether girlish, birds, flowers, music, and light occupations, such as please us in extreme youth, occupying all my attention. I felt that I was not made to associate only with frogs, lizards, snakes, and waterrats, and I confess as possibly you may have guessed that I was not happy. Yet I must do Monsieur de Crèvecœur justice. He was, I believe, very fond of me

[ocr errors]

"How could he be otherwise?" interrupted Signor Tomkins.

"But the word 'love' never passed between us; yet in proof of his affection he indulged me in all I desired, refusing me nothing that money could purchase. But there is a void in the human heart which wealth, pile it up as you will, can never fill. That void I experienced, and when, at the end of seven years, I became a richly dowered widow, I felt myself completely blasée. We had not always lived in lonely haunts-Paris and other great cities had claimed our presence, though without making much, if any change in our domestic life, and the pleasures of the world, there being no one with whom I could really share them, completely palled upon me. The two first years of my widowhood were given to the strictest privacy, but at the end of that period a change of scene was necessary for the re-establishment of my health, which had severely suffered from my long seclusion. It was then that Adolphe, my dearly loved brother, came nobly forward.

"Clotilde,' he said-my father having previously expired-we are solitary in the world. Let us devote ourselves to each other!'

"I threw myself on his bosom and assented. We at once broke up our respective establishments, and leaving only a few of the most necessary of our menials on board wages, under the supervision of careful stewards, pensioning off those who had grown grey in the service of my father and my husband-for, before all things, we made a point of being generous as well as just, we wandered forth together. Detesting pomp -of which I, alas, had witnessed too much-you find us here alone-I have not even a femme de chambre nor has my brother a valet. Ridiculous, you will say, for persons of our rank, but we have resolved to adapt ourselves to this new kind of life that we may the better consort with nature. And for this purpose we are here. Now, was I not right in saying that, although each of us has an incurable grief, seemingly resting on the same basis, the resemblance between us is not complete. You mourn for that which you have lost-I, for what I never had!”

To say that Signor Tomkins was attendri-to say that Signor Tomkins was bewildered-to say that Signor Tomkins felt that species of "all-overness" which assails those who are unexpectedly let into the confidence of a pretty woman-to use all these epithets together, but faintly -very faintly-indicate the state of mind into which the history of the Countess de Crèvecœur had thrown him.

Here was a lovely creature, endowed alike by nature and by fortune, with the richest gifts of each, and yet that lovely creature was, like himself, a Yearner! The rose had been blasted on its stem-it had never known perfume-it had led a dreary existence of prickles (the word "thorns" did not at that moment rise to his memory, so he used the other). He, too, had been equally desolate. Had been! Ha! Was! But in the lurid distance (he was thinking of storms) there shot forth a sudden gleam. Was it the levin-bolt, or were the skies about to clear, and did the bright sun mean to gild his path? These were questions which rapidly presented themselves to Signor Tomkins, as he gazed upon the frank, the seductive Fair One beside whom he was now sitting.

Signor Tomkins could be eloquent upon occasion-but his eloquence failed him now. Perceiving his embarrassment, and not wishing to strain the chord too tensely, the Countess changed the subject.

"How do you like this place ?" she asked.

"It is charming-delicious," he replied, finding at last an easier vent for his feelings.

"Are you merely passing through,—or do you mean to make any stay?"

"I did intend to have only rested here for the night, on my way toto somewhere else." He did not like to say "Verona," for fear he might have been asked his object in going there. "But now," he added-and he laid strong emphasis on the word, "I mean to remain. How long though I cannot tell. It depends on an-that is- -on others!"

"Do

you include your friend, who is dancing there in such a persevering manner?"

66

My movements do not at all depend on him," replied Signor Tomkins, with another vehement application of that form of speech which an Irish Member of Parliament once characterised as 66 speaking in italics." "You expect some one to join you, perhaps?" "Nobody! There is not a person living, save my casual acquaintance Mr. Stubbs-and-and-those who are here, to whom my visit to Le Prese is known."

"In that case," replied the Countess, who saw, perhaps, how the matter stood, and did not care to question further, "in that case- " She paused, smiled, but did not finish the sentence, leaving Signor Tomkins to put what interpretation on her meaning his excited imagination might suggest.

At that moment they were joined by the Count de Manqued'argent. "Clotilde!" he said, "the hour is waxing late, the atmosphere of this room is heated; I advise you to retire."

The Countess rose slowly-extended her delicately-gloved hand, which Signor Tomkins eagerly took-and gracefully bending her swan-like neck, wished him good evening.

"She did not say 'Good-by,'" soliloquised Tomkins, as he watched her retreating figure."I shall see her again-and again!"

According to all rules, he ought that night to have dreamt of Clotilde de Crèvecœur, but such is the perversity of the ivory gate keeper, he suffered dreadfully from nightmare, the real cause being, probably, those kidneys stewed with mushrooms, which in his disturbed vision assumed the form of a person he had never seen-the hideous Madame de Cattamaranne!

TO-MORROW, AND TO-MORROW, AND TO-MORROW.

A CUE FROM SHAKSPEARE.

BY FRANCIS JACOX.

LEAR'S fivefold Never was taken as the cue for one of these nondescript Shakspeare Papers; and for another, Macbeth's threefold ToMorrow will serve a triplet that by no means goes trippingly off the tongue.

TO-MORROW, AND TO-MORROW, AND TO-MORROW,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death.*

So muses Macbeth, besieged in his last fastness, while the cry is still, They come even the enemy and the avenger; a cry varied by one of women, bewailing their mistress dead. He has supped full of horrors; and the cry of "The queen, my lord, is dead," but elicits for response, "She should have died hereafter; there would have been a time for such a word.-To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow." .

In some such mood was usurping Gloster, on the eve of destruction, pitching his tent on Bosworth Field, and meditating,

-Here will I lie to-night;

[Soldiers begin to set up the King's tent.

But where to-morrow?-Well, all's one for that.t

To the meanest private in rank and file the to-morrow that shall bring on a battle cannot but be a momentous thought. As his Grace of York says, on the eve of Hotspur's encounter with the king's forces at Shrewsbury,

on to-morrow.

To-morrow, good Sir Michael, is a day
Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men
Must 'bide the touch.‡

While there's life there's hope, and hope is, by the nature of it, intent As with hopes, so with fears. And hopes and fears together make up the sum of what has interest in life. No wonder, then, if To-morrow is a frequent word with the Poet-philosopher of human life; and that in comedy and in tragedy alike, it serves his turn. Be it a wedding for to-morrow, or an execution for to-morrow, Shakspeare iterates and reiterates the phrase, with all the dramatic realism that informs and vivifies his creations. Is it the wedding of Hero with Claudio, for instance? "When are you married, madam?" asks Ursula of the bride; who, with affected levity replies,

* Macbeth, Act V. Sc. 5.
† King Richard III., Act V. Sc. 3.
First Part of King Henry IV., Act IV. Sc. 4.

« PreviousContinue »