CHAPTER XIX.

NOVELISTSshouldneverallowthemselvestowearyofthestudyofreallife.Iftheyobservedthisdutyconscientiously,theywouldgiveusfewerpictureschequeredwithvividcontrastsoflightandshadetheywouldseldomelevatetheirheroesandheroinestotheheightsofrapture—stillseldomersinkthemtothedepthsofdespairforifwerarelytastethefulnessofjoyinthislife,weyetmorerarelysavourtheacridbitternessofhopelessanguishunless,indeed,wehaveplungedlikebeastsintosensualindulgence,abused,strained,stimulated,againoverstrained,and,atlast,destroyedourfacultiesforenjoymentthen,truly,wemayfindourselveswithoutsupport,robbedofhope.Ouragonyisgreat,andhowcanitend?Wehavebrokenthespringofourpowerslifemustbeallsuffering—toofeebletoconceivefaith—deathmustbedarkness—God,spirits,religioncanhavenoplaceinourcollapsedminds,wherelingeronlyhideousandpollutingrecollectionsofviceandtimebringsusontothebrinkofthegrave,anddissolutionflingsusin—arageatenthroughandthroughwithdisease,wrungtogetherwithpain,stampedintothechurchyardsodbytheinexorableheelofdespair. Butthemanofregularlifeandrationalmindneverdespairs.Heloseshisproperty—itisablow—hestaggersamomentthen,hisenergies,rousedbythesmart,areatworktoseekaremedyactivitysoonmitigatesregret.Sicknessaffectshimhetakespatience—endureswhathecannotcure.AcutepainrackshimhiswrithinglimbsknownotwheretofindrestheleansonHope’sanchors.Deathtakesfromhimwhathelovesrootsup,andtearsviolentlyawaythestemroundwhichhisaffectionsweretwined—adark,dismaltime,afrightfulwrench—butsomemorningReligionlooksintohisdesolatehousewithsunrise,andsays,thatinanotherworld,anotherlife,heshallmeethiskindredagain.Shespeaksofthatworldasaplaceunsulliedbysin—ofthatlife,asaneraunembitteredbysufferingshemightilystrengthensherconsolationbyconnectingwithittwoideas—whichmortalscannotcomprehend,butonwhichtheylovetorepose—Eternity,Immortalityandthemindofthemourner,beingfilledwithanimage,faintyetglorious,ofheavenlyhillsalllightandpeace—ofaspiritrestingthereinbliss—ofadaywhenhisspiritshallalsoalightthere,freeanddisembodied—ofareunionperfectedbylove,purifiedfromfear—hetakescourage—goesouttoencounterthenecessitiesanddischargethedutiesoflifeand,thoughsadnessmayneverliftherburdenfromhismind,Hopewillenablehimtosupportit. Well—andwhatsuggestedallthis?andwhatistheinferencetobedrawntherefrom?Whatsuggestedit,isthecircumstanceofmybestpupil—mytreasure—beingsnatchedfrommyhands,andputawayoutofmyreachtheinferencetobedrawnfromitis—that,beingasteady,reasonableman,Ididnotallowtheresentment,disappointment,andgrief,engenderedinmymindbythisevilchance,togrowtheretoanymonstroussizenordidIallowthemtomonopolizethewholespaceofmyheartIpentthem,onthecontrary,inonestraitandsecretnook.Inthedaytime,too,whenIwasaboutmyduties,IputthemonthesilentsystemanditwasonlyafterIhadclosedthedoorofmychamberatnightthatIsomewhatrelaxedmyseveritytowardsthesemorosenurslings,andallowedventtotheirlanguageofmurmursthen,inrevenge,theysatonmypillow,hauntedmybed,andkeptmeawakewiththeirlong,midnightcry. Aweekpassed.IhadsaidnothingmoretoMdlle.Reuter.Ihadbeencalminmydemeanourtoher,thoughstonycoldandhard.WhenIlookedather,itwaswiththeglancefittingtobebestowedononewhoIknewhadconsultedjealousyasanadviser,andemployedtreacheryasaninstrument—theglanceofquietdisdainandrooteddistrust.OnSaturdayevening,ereIleftthehouse,IsteptintotheSALLE-A-MANGER,whereshewassittingalone,and,placingmyselfbeforeher,Iasked,withthesametranquiltoneandmannerthatIshouldhaveusedhadIputthequestionforthefirsttime— “Mademoiselle,willyouhavethegoodnesstogivemetheaddressofFrancesEvansHenri?” Alittlesurprised,butnotdisconcerted,shesmilinglydisclaimedanyknowledgeofthataddress,adding,“MonsieurhasperhapsforgottenthatIexplainedallaboutthatcircumstancebefore—aweekago?” “Mademoiselle,”Icontinued,“youwouldgreatlyobligemebydirectingmetothatyoungperson’sabode.” Sheseemedsomewhatpuzzledand,atlast,lookingupwithanadmirablycounterfeitedairofnaivete,shedemanded,“DoesMonsieurthinkIamtellinganuntruth?” Stillavoidingtogiveheradirectanswer,Isaid,“Itisnotthenyourintention,mademoiselle,toobligemeinthisparticular?” “But,monsieur,howcanItellyouwhatIdonotknow?” “VerywellIunderstandyouperfectly,mademoiselle,andnowIhaveonlytwoorthreewordstosay.ThisisthelastweekinJulyinanothermonththevacationwillcommence,havethegoodnesstoavailyourselfoftheleisureitwillaffordyoutolookoutforanotherEnglishmaster—atthecloseofAugust,Ishallbeunderthenecessityofresigningmypostinyourestablishment.” Ididnotwaitforhercommentsonthisannouncement,butbowedandimmediatelywithdrew. Thatsameevening,soonafterdinner,aservantbroughtmeasmallpacketitwasdirectedinahandIknew,buthadnothopedsosoontoseeagainbeinginmyownapartmentandalone,therewasnothingtopreventmyimmediatelyopeningititcontainedfourfive-francpieces,andanoteinEnglish. “MONSIEUR, “IcametoMdlle.Reuter’shouseyesterday,atthetimewhenIknewyouwouldbejustaboutfinishingyourlesson,andIaskedifImightgointotheschoolroomandspeaktoyou.Mdlle.Reutercameoutandsaidyouwerealreadygoneithadnotyetstruckfour,soIthoughtshemustbemistaken,butconcludeditwouldbevaintocallanotherdayonthesameerrand.Inonesenseanotewilldoaswell—itwillwrapupthe20francs,thepriceofthelessonsIhavereceivedfromyouandifitwillnotfullyexpressthethanksIoweyouinaddition—ifitwillnotbidyougood-byeasIcouldwishtohavedone—ifitwillnottellyou,asIlongtodo,howsorryIamthatIshallprobablyneverseeyoumore—why,spokenwordswouldhardlybemoreadequatetothetask.HadIseenyou,Ishouldprobablyhavestammeredoutsomethingfeebleandunsatisfactory—somethingbelyingmyfeelingsratherthanexplainingthemsoitisperhapsaswellthatIwasdeniedadmissiontoyourpresence.Youoftenremarked,monsieur,thatmydevoirsdweltagreatdealonfortitudeinbearinggrief—yousaidIintroducedthatthemetoooften:Ifindindeedthatitismucheasiertowriteaboutaseveredutythantoperformit,forIamoppressedwhenIseeandfeeltowhatareversefatehascondemnedmeyouwerekindtome,monsieur—verykindIamafflicted—Iamheart-brokentobequiteseparatedfromyousoonIshallhavenofriendonearth.Butitisuselesstroublingyouwithmydistresses.WhatclaimhaveIonyoursympathy?NoneIwillthensaynomore. “Farewell,Monsieur. “F.E.HENRI.” Iputupthenoteinmypocket-book.Islippedthefive-francpiecesintomypurse—thenItookaturnthroughmynarrowchamber. “Mdlle.Reutertalkedaboutherpoverty,”saidI,“andsheispooryetshepaysherdebtsandmore.Ihavenotyetgivenheraquarter’slessons,andshehassentmeaquarter’sdue.Iwonderofwhatshedeprivedherselftoscrapetogetherthetwentyfrancs—Iwonderwhatsortofaplaceshehastolivein,andwhatsortofawomanherauntis,andwhethersheislikelytogetemploymenttosupplytheplaceshehaslost.Nodoubtshewillhavetotrudgeaboutlongenoughfromschooltoschool,toinquirehere,andapplythere—berejectedinthisplace,disappointedinthat.Manyaneveningshe’llgotoherbedtiredandunsuccessful.Andthedirectresswouldnotletherintobidmegood-bye?Imightnothavethechanceofstandingwithherforafewminutesatawindowintheschoolroomandexchangingsomehalf-dozenofsentences—gettingtoknowwhereshelived—puttingmattersintrainforhavingallthingsarrangedtomymind?Noaddressonthenote”—Icontinued,drawingitagainfromthepocket-bookandexaminingitoneachsideofthetwoleaves:“womenarewomen,thatiscertain