Page:Peterson Magazine 1869B.pdf/186

AT THE FALLS. 185 morning; and she feared that he was not deceived by her factitious gayety; but she was more vexed with herself for being so poor an actress, than with his penetration.

The day was over at last. They were back at the hotel, and Cora felt as tired as if she had been doing a forced march with a troop of soldiers, and was suffering fatigue for the whole regiment.

But there was worse weariness and pain in store for the proud woman. She needed, I sup- pose, the peculiar discipline that was being bestowed upon her, and there was no hope of avoiding it.

There was music and dancing in the parlors. Cora waltzed until she could do her duty no longer; then she managed to escape, and got out on the veranda, where the moonbeams lay clear and silvery as glorified daylight.

She walked slowly round to’another part of the building, and came suddenly upon two figures standing together in the shadow. It needed only one glance to show her who they were—May and Hugh Wellesley.

May’s hand lay upon his arm, his head was bent toward her, and he was listening eagerly to some low words that fell hesitatingly from her lips.

Cora gathered up her long train and rushed away, swift and noiseless as a ghost, and never stopped till she was in her own room, and the door barred against all intruders.

Then she had it out with herself. The scales had fallen suddenly from her eyes. Useless to try to be blind or deaf any longer; idle to call upon her overweening pride to help; it shrunk and shriveled in the fierce passion that had suddenly burst into flame in her soul, and her woman’s heart asserted its womanhood, and throbbed, and ached, and cried out in its agony, and mastered her hitherto indomitable will as if she had been the weakest of her sex.

She sat there, cowering and shaking in the moonlight, hiding her face in her hands as if the white beams had been spirit-watchers, whose gaze she was ashamed to meet; crouched there, and heard her heart beat and moan, and could not deny one syllable of its passionate utterance.

She loved Hugh Wollesley—she who had been more sought than any girl of her day, and had been like a beautiful icicle under it all; at last her heart had gone out, unasked, to a man who did not care for her—worse, who loved another.

The devils that torment poor humanity at certain crises in life, sorely beset poor Cora in that black hour. She fairly hated May, that in her childish loveliness and want of thought she had been able to win the treasure of that man’s love. She tried to hate him; to malign him in her thoughts; to deny that he was so much more talented, or gentle, or noble, than scores of other men whom she had met.

She fought her battle desperately, and aided the devils all-she could; but it was no use, she was too good and womanly to succeed; her religion was too much a part of her life for her to put it aside even in that frenzy. The bitterness and anger passed—even the insane rage against her own weakness paled and died out.

It was a horrible night, but before it ended Cora was able to accept her humiliation, to admit that she needed and deserved it. It was the worst punishment that could have befallen her—all her life her pride had been her besetting sin; verily, she was mortally punished where she had erred.

And the morning came, and Cora woke from the heavy, unrestful slumber that had come at last, and looked about, and knew that, though an earthquake had passed over her soul and shattered its every stronghold, the world must go on as usual, and she must take her part in it too.

She would not even allow herself the solace of breakfasting in her own room, and was just ready to sail out as grand as Dido, when a servant came up with coffee, and a message from her aunt that she had better not come down, she looked so tired the night before.

So she had another hour to herself. At the end of it there was a tap at the door, and May's voice called,

«I want to come in, enchanted princess.”

Cora found a voice quite like her usual one to answer,

“Come in, Miss Wickedness—why didn’t you wake me?”

In came May, looking fresher and more lovely than ever, with such light in her eyes, such color in her cheeks, that Cora knew what it meant before she spoke a word.

“I was up so early that I thought I would not disturb you,” cooed May, dancing about her. “I have been up for hours, and out. Oh! such a lovely walk as I have had.”

“Were you alone?” Cora asked, certain what was coming, and anxious to bring the revelation to a climax, and have it over.

“Not I,” cried May. ‘Do I look like a girl that would take early walks alone?”

Suddenly she threw her arms about Cora, and turned away her head.

“Guess who was with me?” she whispered.

“Mr. Wellesley,” Cora said, with a calmness

www morning; and she feared that he was not de- } been able to win the treasure of that man's love. ceived by her factitious gayety ; but she was She tried to hate him; to malign him in her more vexed with herself for being so poor an thoughts ; to deny that he was so much more actress, than with his penetration. talented, or gentle, or noble, than scores of The day was over at last. They were back at other men whom she had met. the hotel, and Cora felt as tired as if she had She fought her battle desperately, and aided been doing a forced march with a troop of sol- the devils all she could ; but it was no use, she diers, and was suffering fatigue for the whole was too good and womanly to succeed ; her reregiment. ligion was too much a part of her life for her But there was worse weariness and pain in to put it aside even in that frenzy. The bitterstore for the proud woman. She needed, I sup- ness and anger passed - even the insane rage pose, the peculiar discipline that was being be- against her own weakness paled and died out. stowed upon her, and there was no hope of It was a horrible night, but before it ended avoiding it. Cora was able to accept her humiliation, to There was music and dancing in the parlors. admit that she needed and deserved it. It was Cora waltzed until she could do her duty no the worst punishment that could have befallen longer ; then she managed to escape, and got her-all her life her pride had been her besetout on the veranda, where the moonbeams lay ting sin ; verily, she was mortally punished where she had erred. clear and silvery as glorified daylight. She walked slowly round to another part of And the morning came, and Cora woke from the building, and came suddenly upon two the heavy, unrestful slumber that had come at figures standing together in the shadow. It last, and looked about, and knew that, though needed only one glance to show her who they an earthquake had passed over her soul and shattered its every stronghold, the world must were- May and Hugh Wellesley. May's hand lay upon his arm, his head was go on as usual, and she must take her part in bent toward her, and he was listening eagerly it too. She would not even allow herself the solace to some low words that fell hesitatingly from her lips. of breakfasting in her own room, and was just Cora gathered up her long train and rushed ready to sail out as grand as Dido, when a seraway, swift and noiseless as a ghost, and never vant came up with coffee, and a message from stopped till she was in her own room, and the her aunt that she had better not come down, door barred against all intruders. she looked so tired the night before. Then she had it out with herself. The scales So she had another hour to herself. At the had fallen suddenly from her eyes. Useless to end of it there was a tap at the door, and May's try to be blind or deaf any longer ; idle to call voice called, upon her overweening pride to help ; it shrunk "I want to come in, enchanted princess." Cora found a voice quite like her usual one to and shriveled in the fierce passion that had suddenly burst into flame in her soul, and her answer, woman's heart asserted its womanhood, and "Come in, Miss Wickedness- why didn't you throbbed, and ached, and cried out in its agony, } wake me ?” and mastered her hitherto indomitable will as In came May, looking fresher and more lovely if she had been the weakest of her sex. than ever, with such light in her eyes, such She sat there, cowering and shaking in the color in her cheeks, that Cora knew what it moonlight, hiding her face in her hands as if meant before she spoke a word. the white beams had been spirit-watchers, whose "I was up so early that I thought I would gaze she was ashamed to meet ; crouched there, not disturb you," cooed May, dancing about her. and heard her heart beat and moan, and could "I have been up for hours, and out. Oh ! such not deny one syllable of its passionate utterance. a lovely walk as I have had." She loved Hugh Wellesley-she who had been "Were you alone ?" Cora asked, certain what more sought than any girl of her day, and had was coming, and anxious to bring the revelation been like a beautiful icicle under it all; at last to a climax, and have it over. her heart had gone out, unasked, to a man who "Not I," cried May. " Do I look like a girl did not care for her- worse, who loved another. that would take early walks alone ?" The devils that torment poor humanity at cerSuddenly she threw her arms about Cora, and tain crises in life, sorely beset poor Cora in that turned away her head. " Guess who was with me?" she whispered. black hour. She fairly hated May, that in her childish loveliness and want of thought she had "Mr. Wellesley," Cora said, with a calmness