CHAPTER XXIII. VASHTI.

Towondersadly,didIsay?No:anewinfluencebegantoactuponmylife,andsadness,foracertainspace,washeldatbay.Conceiveadell,deep-hollowedinforestsecresyitliesindimnessandmist:itsturfisdank,itsherbagepaleandhumid.Astormoranaxemakesawidegapamongsttheoak-treesthebreezesweepsinthesunlooksdownthesad,colddellbecomesadeepcupoflustrehighsummerpoursherbluegloryandhergoldenlightoutofthatbeauteoussky,whichtillnowthestarvedhollowneversaw. Anewcreedbecamemine—abeliefinhappiness. Itwasthreeweekssincetheadventureofthegarret,andIpossessedinthatcase,box,drawerup-stairs,casketedwiththatfirstletter,fourcompanionsliketoit,tracedbythesamefirmpen,sealedwiththesameclearseal,fullofthesamevitalcomfort.Vitalcomfortitseemedtomethen:Ireadtheminafteryearstheywerekindlettersenough—pleasingletters,becausecomposedbyonewellpleasedinthetwolasttherewerethreeorfourclosinglineshalf-gay,half-tender,“byfeelingtouched,butnotsubdued.”Time,dearreader,mellowedthemtoabeverageofthismildqualitybutwhenIfirsttastedtheirelixir,freshfromthefountsohonoured,itseemedjuiceofadivinevintage:adraughtwhichHebemightfill,andtheverygodsapprove. Doesthereader,rememberingwhatwassaidsomepagesback,caretoaskhowIansweredtheseletters:whetherunderthedry,stintingcheckofReason,oraccordingtothefull,liberalimpulseofFeeling? Tospeaktruth,IcompromisedmattersIservedtwomasters:IboweddowninthehousesofRimmon,andliftedtheheartatanothershrine.Iwrotetotheseletterstwoanswers—oneformyownrelief,theotherforGraham’sperusal. Tobeginwith:FeelingandIturnedReasonoutofdoors,drewagainstherbarandbolt,thenwesatdown,spreadourpaper,dippedintheinkaneagerpen,and,withdeepenjoyment,pouredoutoursincereheart.Whenwehaddone—whentwosheetswerecoveredwiththelanguageofastrongly-adherentaffection,arootedandactivegratitude—(once,forall,inthisparenthesis,Idisclaim,withtheutmostscorn,everysneakingsuspicionofwhatarecalled“warmerfeelings:”womendonotentertainthese“warmerfeelings”where,fromthecommencement,throughthewholeprogressofanacquaintance,theyhaveneveroncebeencheatedoftheconvictionthat,todosowouldbetocommitamortalabsurdity:nobodyeverlaunchesintoLoveunlesshehasseenordreamedtherisingofHope’sstaroverLove’stroubledwaters)—when,then,Ihadgivenexpressiontoaclosely-clinginganddeeply-honouringattachment—anattachmentthatwantedtoattracttoitselfandtaketoitsownlotallthatwaspainfulinthedestinyofitsobjectthatwould,ifitcould,haveabsorbedandconductedawayallstormsandlightningsfromanexistenceviewedwithapassionofsolicitude—then,justatthatmoment,thedoorsofmyheartwouldshake,boltandbarwouldyield,Reasonwouldleapinvigorousandrevengeful,snatchthefullsheets,read,sneer,erase,tearup,re-write,fold,seal,direct,andsendaterse,curtmissiveofapage.Shedidright. Ididnotliveonlettersonly:Iwasvisited,IwaslookedafteronceaweekIwastakenouttoLaTerrassealwaysIwasmademuchof.Dr.Brettonfailednottotellmewhyhewassokind:“Tokeepawaythenun,”hesaid“hewasdeterminedtodisputewithherherprey.Hehadtaken,”hedeclared,“athoroughdisliketoher,chieflyonaccountofthatwhiteface-cloth,andthosecoldgreyeyes:themomentheheardofthoseodiousparticulars,”heaffirmed,“consummatedisgusthadincitedhimtoopposeherhewasdeterminedtotrywhetherheorshewasthecleverest,andheonlywishedshewouldoncemorelookinuponmewhenhewaspresent:”butthatsheneverdid.Inshort,heregardedmescientificallyinthelightofapatient,andatonceexercisedhisprofessionalskill,andgratifiedhisnaturalbenevolence,byacourseofcordialandattentivetreatment. Oneevening,thefirstinDecember,Iwaswalkingbymyselfinthecarréitwassixo’clocktheclasse-doorswereclosedbutwithin,thepupils,rampantinthelicenceofeveningrecreation,werecounterfeitingaminiaturechaos.Thecarréwasquitedark,exceptaredlightshiningunderandaboutthestovethewideglass-doorsandthelongwindowswerefrostedoveracrystalsparkleofstarlight,hereandtherespanglingthisblanchedwinterveil,andbreakingwithscatteredbrilliancethepalenessofitsembroidery,proveditaclearnight,thoughmoonless.ThatIshoulddaretoremainthusaloneindarkness,showedthatmynerveswereregainingahealthytone:Ithoughtofthenun,buthardlyfearedherthoughthestaircasewasbehindme,leadingup,throughblind,blacknight,fromlandingtolanding,tothehauntedgrenier.YetIownmyheartquaked,mypulseleaped,whenIsuddenlyheardbreathingandrustling,andturning,sawinthedeepshadowofthestepsadeepershadowstill—ashapethatmovedanddescended.Itpausedawhileattheclasse-door,andthenitglidedbeforeme.Simultaneouslycameaclangorofthedistantdoor-bell.Life-likesoundsbringlife-likefeelings:thisshapewastooroundandlowformygauntnun:itwasonlyMadameBeckonduty. “MademoiselleLucy!”criedRosine,burstingin,lampinhand,fromthecorridor,“onestlàpourvousausalon.” Madamesawme,IsawMadame,Rosinesawusboth:therewasnomutualrecognition.Imadestraightforthesalon.ThereIfoundwhatIownIanticipatedIshouldfind—Dr.Brettonbuthewasinevening-dress. “Thecarriageisatthedoor,”saidhe“mymotherhassentittotakeyoutothetheatreshewasgoingherself,butanarrivalhas