The Sapphire Cross Part 36

MOTHER AND SON.

"Mother," said Brace Norton the next morning, as, none the worse for his immersion, he stood by her side, she holding his hand the while and gazing up into his face,--"mother, I went out yesterday with the full intention of dreaming no more of my foolish love; and what was the result? Strange, too," he said, with affected gaiety; "one would have thought that an hour's immersion would have quenched it. But there, you will, perhaps, laugh at me, and think me childish and full of folly; still, I cannot help it--I love her more dearly than ever, and feel no shame in owning it to you. How am I to give her up now, after holding her to my breast as I did for a whole hour yesterday, her arms clasped the while round my neck, and her poor head resting upon my shoulder?

Mother, it was a mingling of misery, despair, and bliss; and when, at last, I had given up all hope of being saved--when I had struggled till I could struggle no more--when I had called till my voice failed in my throat--when I felt that my--our last hour was at hand, I broke faith even with myself."

Brace paused for a few moments, for his voice was husky, but recovering himself, he went on:

"I dare say it was wrong; but I was under the impression that all was over. I could have saved my own life, perhaps; but I could not leave her to perish. The sun had sunk, and darkness was fast coming on; the evening breeze was sighing what seemed to my excited fancy a dirge amidst the rustling reeds; and again and again some curlew flew over us giving utterance to a loud wail. At one time it seemed so hard to die just in the spring of life; but the next instant, as I looked down at the poor head resting upon my breast, the sorrow was all for her, and with that sorrow there was a strange--an awful pleasure. It was, I should think, about ten minutes before help came that she raised her head, and her sweet beseeching eyes looked full in mine.

"'Is there no hope?' she whispered; and I feared to tell her the cruel truth.

"'But you could save yourself,' she faltered; 'you struggled too hard before; why should you perish in trying to save me?'

"She spoke so earnestly, and with such a sweet resignation, that the tears came gus.h.i.+ng from my eyes--weak, womanly tears, mother; for I am weak, very weak, I know, or I should not tell you all this."

"Is it weak to confide all things to her who gave you birth, Brace?"

whispered Mrs Norton.

"No--no!" he replied; and then, as if recalling the scene of the preceding evening, he continued:

"'Try,' she whispered to me--'try once more, and you may bring help.'

"As she spoke she unloosed her arms from my neck, and it was like adding despair to despair.

"'Why do you tempt me?' I said; for it seemed that now the time had come when I might speak. 'Do you think that I could live without you?

and do you not know that since the day when we first met my every thought has been of you, and that I have vainly struggled to free myself? You will believe me now--now that we are, perhaps, within a few minutes to stand in the presence of our Maker. Isa, I love you with a pure and holy love--a love that makes me, despairing as I am of ever possessing you in this life, look forward to the prospect of being with you in death,' I whispered, as I held her more tightly. 'You know little of me, but you know, perhaps, the sad misfortunes of our families, and how it seems that by some strange intervention of fate my heart has been led to you.'

"She was silent, but her arms once more rested upon my shoulder, and her sweet innocent, girlish face was close to mine, as there, chilled to the heart with the icy water, I asked her to forgive me my declaration, and kissed her pale lips again and again.

"It was then that--urged once more by the strong desire for life--I tried once more to utter a cry or two for help; and, five minutes after, that help was at hand."

Brace Norton was silent now for a few minutes; and then, as if in answer to his mother's look, he said:

"Must I, then, go?"

"Yes, Brace--yes. Your father leaves in an hour. It will be far better. Only for a few days, till she recovers and is removed."

"But may I not see her first?" he pleaded.

"Brace, my dear boy," said Mrs Norton, proudly, "would it be honourable to take advantage of her position here? Too much has already pa.s.sed for your peace of mind. Go, now; and leave the house free to Sir Murray Gernon to come and go untouched in his sensitiveness. You must fight still, and bravely, too."

Without another word the young man slowly left the room; and before an hour had elapsed Captain Norton and his son were on their way to Marshton.

Book 2, Chapter XI.

A DISCOVERY.

Ten days elapsed before Dr Challen gave his consent for Isa to be removed, and during that time she had been carefully tended by Mrs Norton and Jane McCray, who had made her way to the Hall as soon as she heard of the accident. But two days would have been sufficient to have shown to Mrs Norton the character of the gentle, inartificial girl, whose grat.i.tude was extreme for every act of attention she received.

Hour after hour would Mrs Norton sit by her bedside watching her sleep; but once, and once only, came a dread suspicion that made her heart leap with agony.

She had driven that thought away, though, the next minute, as something too hateful to be nurtured even for an instant. Then, kneeling down, she prayed long and earnestly that, come what might, rest and happiness should be the lot of her son, as well as that of the gentle spirit whom she had already begun to love as a child of her own. For, irrespective of a sweet disposition and clinging ways to attract her when the poor motherless girl had been thrown, as it were, into her arms for protection, there was the recollection of the past--the old affection for her mother, and pity--shuddering pity--as she thought of her old friend's mysterious fate and the sad position of her child.

Had she required more to interest her in Isa Gernon, Mrs Norton possessed it in the knowledge that Brace loved her, that he had confessed his love, and that Isa knew it. If such a thing could have been possible, how Mrs Norton would have rejoiced in the union! But, with many a sigh, she told herself that it could never be, and to the best of her ability she strove to avoid all reference to her son.

That was a hard task to the loving mother, whose every thought turned to the frank, handsome young fellow who was her pride--who had, year by year, won for her more and more her husband's love, binding him tightly and more tightly to her, as time rolled on, till she owned to herself that, in spite of the stormy past, hers was a life of true happiness--of happiness greater than usually fell to the lot of mortals. For as time had softened the grief and despair in Philip Norton's heart, he had learned to thank Heaven for the blessings that had, after all, fallen to his share, so that his feeling of friendly affection had gradually grown into a firm and lasting love for the woman so full of faith in him--a love that grew stronger as the years glided on.

Weak, and hardly yet recovered, Isa Gernon was, one day, lying sleeping gently. Sir Murray had paid his morning's visit, and, meeting Dr Challen there, received another sharp snubbing for evincing a desire to remove the patient.

"I'll tell you when she may go," said the doctor; "but let me tell you that you ought to go down upon your knees and thank Mrs Norton for her motherly care. Like a mother to you, isn't she, my child?" he said, turning to Isa.

The look of love directed by Isa at Mrs Norton was like gall and wormwood to Sir Murray, whose dark face grew more black; but he was too courteous to display his annoyance in his words; and besides, though he looked upon Mrs Norton as a weak, foolish woman, at heart he retained for her a profound feeling of respect; for he admired her faith and constancy under troubles that might have broken another's heart. In spite of himself, too, he could not help noticing the respect that had been paid to his feelings, for he knew that the departure of Captain Norton and his son must have been on account of this unforeseen train of circ.u.mstances. He was glad of this, for he was troubled about Brace, from feeling an instinctive dread that he might presume to a.s.sert himself as a suitor for Isa's hand.

Matters had gone very unfortunately; but as soon as he could get Isa home, he determined that Lord Maudlaine should press his suit, and that the wedding should shortly follow.

Sir Murray felt a confidence in Mrs Norton that was not misplaced, for hardly once had Brace's name pa.s.sed her lips till this morning, when some time after father and doctor had taken their departure, Mrs Norton entered the room to find Isa sleeping.

She stood watching the sleeper for some few minutes, tracing again the lineaments of Marion Elstree, when the likeness was completed by the unclosing of two soft, appealing eyes, which gazed full in hers for a few minutes, as a sweet smile of recognition swept over the countenance; then Mrs Norton bent down and kissed her, Isa's arms being pa.s.sed round her loving nurse's neck, and there for a few moments she clung.

"So much better!" whispered Isa; and then, as her eyes fell upon a locket-brooch which Mrs Norton was wearing, she asked, in the course of conversation, whose countenance it contained.

"It was my son's twelve years ago," said Mrs Norton, softly, as she covered it, she knew not why, with one hand, watching keenly the face before her as she spoke, and in the change that came over it, she saw something that for the moment gave her she hardly knew which, pleasure or pain; for Isa's pale face became gradually suffused with a deep crimson flush, she shrank away from Mrs Norton as if guilty, her eyes filled with tears, and then, casting her arms round the mother's neck, she nestled there, weeping long and hysterically.

No word was spoken; but the mother's thoughts required no further confirmation. She religiously refrained, though, from speaking, telling herself that a greater will than hers should be done, that her duty was rather to check than encourage, even while she tremblingly hoped that a happier future might be the result.

There was no need for interpretation of Isa Gernon's tears: her heart spoke for itself; and it was not surprising that he, against whom she had been warned by a parent--now loving almost to doting, now fiercely morose--should form the object of her musing thoughts. She had met him frequently during her walks, at a time, too, when distasteful attentions were being paid her, and she felt that her heart was being treated as a piece of merchandise.

There was something winning and frank in Brace Norton that had attracted her in spite of the chiding she gave her wandering thoughts; and young, ardent, unused to the ways of the world, she had allowed herself to dwell upon the face of the young sailor more often than was right for her peace of mind. Then came the ramble by the marsh, the leaning over the black pool-side to pluck a blossom, and her narrow escape from poor Ophelia's fate. Was it, then, strange that when he appeared rus.h.i.+ng to her rescue, and after his many vain struggles, told her, as he promised to die by her side, how he loved her--told her what her heart had before whispered--was it, then, strange that this should be the hour which should, in spite of her efforts, sweep away the impression of all warnings and forbidding words, and that she should yield up the heart only partly hers?

Book 2, Chapter XII.

RIVALRY.

Dr Challen's permission at last, and after many formal, courteous thanks, Sir Murray Gernon had come over to the Hall to fetch his child.

"You will often come over and see us," whispered Isa, as she clung to Mrs Norton; and then she trembled as she saw the tear in her hostess's face and the slight shake of her head.

"Come, Isa!" exclaimed Sir Murray, almost harshly; for the sight of the affectionate parting was bitterness to him.

At the same moment Lord Maudlaine, hitherto an unnoticed member of the party, had advanced to hand Isa to the carriage.

"The Castle has been like a dungeon ever since you left us," he whispered; and Mrs Norton noted the parting of his lips. She also observed, too, that Isa did not touch his hand, but stepped unaided into the carriage; and the mother's heart gave a throb of joy. But only for an instant: the gleam of suns.h.i.+ne that had seemed in those trifles to s.h.i.+ne forth for her son was shrouded directly after by the clouds of the past, and she re-entered the house, tearful and sad, as the sound of the departing carriage seemed to fade away in the distance.

For the house seemed sad now and desolate. It was as though a sweet spirit that had pervaded the place had pa.s.sed away; and it was only by an effort that she composed herself so as to write to Captain Norton, and inform him that there was no longer need for his absence.

There were no long conversations between Mr and Mrs Norton on the former's return to Merland Hall; but they read each others thoughts, and avoided all reference to their son's acts. At times Captain Norton was for expostulating with Brace, but he always came to the conclusion that matters must take their course, and that he would leave all speaking to his wife, trusting to her to point out to Brace the folly of his hopes, and then looking forward to the time for his return to sea, when, long before the cruise had come to an end, Isa Gernon would, without doubt, have become Lady Maudlaine.

Brace, upon his return, was restless and excitable; his father ready to plunge into business to drown his thoughts; while the mother anxiously watched the actions of her son, longing, in her indulgent love, to whisper hope, but feeling all the while that it was a thing she dared not attempt.

The second day after his return home, Brace's heart sank, as, turning into a lane, he came suddenly upon Isa, side by side with Lord Maudlaine. They were mounted, and a groom rode at a short distance behind. He already knew by rumour that Isa was supposed to be engaged to the Viscount, and, bitter and angry, his hand was raised to his hat, in order to pa.s.s with a cold salute; but Brace's resentment was in an instant disarmed, for Isa reined in her horse, and with a quiet, earnest smile, held out her hand, which he took in his for a moment, and then, with her companion, she was gone.