The Old Man's Bride CHAPTER 10.
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An early marriage was urged by Mr. Bullfinch. Helen, after being repeatedly asked to fix the time when it should take place, finally named a day six months in advance. Against so long a postponement, the ardent lover strongly remonstrated; but Helen remained immovable. She wished to put off the dreaded time as long as possible, and she had fixed the utmost limit. Beyond that, she knew it would be useless to go. Rapidly enough for her, approached the day.
All the lessons she was engaged in giving were completed up to the termination of the respective quarters, except those of Fanny Milnor. The reason for omitting these is already known to the reader. Two or three times, Mrs. Barker approached her on the subject; but Helen invariably declined to hold any conversation thereon whatever. Her appearance had undergone considerable change. Everyone noted this. And yet, all could not see, beneath her partially disguised exterior — the unmistakable signs of unhappiness. Her face did not recover the warm hue which once gave it a softened, almost transparent beauty. It was uniformly pale. But her eyes were larger and brighter from this very paleness. Her step was firmer, and her bearing prouder than before — almost haughty at times; and at times, defiant.
Having consented to take a false position in the world, she was steadily repressing all the gentler qualities of her nature, and putting on, as a coat of armor, a composed exterior. Day by day she laid her hand firmly upon her heart, to repress its natural emotions; and day by day she gained some new power over herself — some new ability to appear what she was not. As much to acquire this power, as from an instinctive repugnance to the contemplated union, had Helen deferred her marriage as long as possible.
Thus false to herself, and false to the world — the unhappy maiden prepared herself for the coming sacrifice, thinking often of the fate of Jeptha's daughter — as one full of pleasantness, when compared with her own. No one comprehended her state of mind — no one saw through the false exterior she had assumed, but her father. His eyes had a deeper penetration — the power of spiritual discernment. The heart which she hid from others — lay all open to him, and he saw, half palsied and crushed as it lay in her bosom, that its low, tremulous throb, was born of exquisite pain. How many times did he seek a conference with her on the subject of her approaching marriage, in the hope of inducing her, at all hazards, to break the cords by which she was bound — the cords, of an extorted promise — before to struggle against their sharp bondage, were utterly vain! But on this subject she would hold no communion with anyone. Money, freely supplied by Mr. Bullfinch, even though the hand filled with gold were pushed back often and again — was bringing every external comfort to their household; and the regular attendance of one of the most skillful physicians in the city, sent by the same interested friend, was mitigating the violence of a disease under which Mr. Lee was fast wasting away. These were the accumulating obligations that, to Helen, gave to her promise of marriage a still more binding force. The question of escape from the hopeless future was no longer debated in her mind; and she would not allow it to be opened.
"God will give me strength equal to my day. Thus she would seek to fortify herself, when thoughts of the coming self-sacrifice pressed upon her too heavily, and imagination drew too vivid pictures of the approaching reality. Ah! how can we hope for strength from above, when we enter upon trials not sanctioned by Heaven? If we take the current of Providence — that will never bear us out upon a sea where we must perish amid whirlpools of passion, or on the breakers of crime. But, if we choose a wrong course, no matter how specious the false persuasion under which we act, may be — then there is for us no safety.
The time wore on. The fond old lover made almost daily visits to the house of his affianced bride, where he was received by Mrs. Lee ever with a smiling and wordy welcome; by Helen, with a calm, dignified, almost repulsive politeness; and by Mr. Lee with a subdued toleration, which, while it seemed not to be noticed by Mr. Bullfinch, was treasured upnever to be forgotten nor forgiven!
There was one thing which fretted the old man quite a bit. As often as he had tried to persuade Helen to appear with him abroad, he had never been able to induce her to go upon the street with him, or to appear in any public place, since she had consented to become his wife. Earnest persuasion, and the exhibition of a half offended manner, alike failed to influence her.
"This is all wrong, said her mother, more than once after Mr. Bullfinch had retired. "You are soon to become his wife. Do you never intend to go out with him?"
"When I am his wife, mother," she usually replied, "I will try, to the best of my ability, to do a wife's duty. Now, as a maiden, I wish to reserve a maiden's privilege."
It mattered not now warmly Mrs. Lee opposed this state of feeling in her daughter, it was of no avail; little beyond the reply just given, was ever urged in self-justification.
And so the time wore on, until the day of sacrifice was at hand.
The opposition shown by Fanny Milnor to this unnatural union, did not subside like a sudden outburst of passion. She thought and felt correctly in the beginning, from her true woman's instinct. She knew that no young girl could love an old man, like her uncle — as a wife should love her husband; and it was, therefore, the instant conclusion of her mind, that Helen Lee, in consenting to such a relation, must be influenced by an unworthy motive. All respect for Helen died instantly in her bosom, and in its place was kindled astrong aversion, which daily gained strength. Several times her uncle had sought to approach her on the subject of his marriage, but she would hold no fellowship with him on that theme.
As for herself, she had marked out the course she would pursue — marked it out in the beginning. When Helen entered the home of her uncle, as its future mistress — she would go out therefrom, to return no more. Mr. Bullfinch did not believe that she would carry out her declaration — he regarded it as the hasty threat of a young girl, to be receded from, almost as soon as uttered. But he was in error here.
Not wholly dependent on her uncle, was Fanny. She had a small income, not beyond a few hundred dollars, secured to her from the shattered estate of her father, who had died when she was a child. Her uncle not being her legal guardian, this money had been regularly paid into her hands, since she had became old enough to receive it, and was entirely at her disposal. This resource made the way before her much clearer, as she thought upon the future. It did not, however, in the least influence her decision. Such was the disgust of her soul at the marriage about to take place, that she would have gone out from her uncle's roof, though she knew not where to lay her head.
And what of Henry Wellford? Since the time he saw Helen in the street, on the day of his good fortune, his eyes had not rested upon her. Twice, after that evening, had he called at her father's house, to be, each time, repulsed by Mrs. Lee, and, on the last occasion, with the cutting words —
"You needn't come here any more. Helen doesn't want to see you!"
How dark, and cold, and cheerless, seemed all the world to him, as, after this harsh repulse, he went wandering about the streets aimlessly, and conscious only of a heavy weight upon his bosom. Late at night he sought his pillow, and, in half-waking dreams, passed the hours, till morning came with a sense of relief. No further effort was made by him to see Helen at the residence of her father; but many an hour he lingered in and around the neighborhood, after night had closed in; but he lingered in vain. That form, fairer to him than the world's highest type of beauty — blessed not his longing vision. Never was he upon the street, by day or by night, that his eyes searched not, constantly, for Helen. But, neither afar off nor near at hand, did she appear, and his heart grew sick in its deferred expectations. And so the time passed with him. Yet, a whisper of what was to take place — of the destiny of his soul's bride — came not to his ears.
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