The Old Man's Bride CHAPTER 9.
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Opposition from those who deemed the act almost sacrilegious, availed not. Helen had betrothed herself, and, true to her extorted vow — was not to be held back from the consummation thereof. In love to her parents, she was about to offer herself up in an unholy sacrifice. As Mr. Bullfinch had said, he called to see her at her father's house, on the evening that followed the day of her promise to marry him. To Mr. Lee, he did not hesitate to declare the purpose of his visit. He met with a much more decided opposition in that quarter than he had expected. Mr. Lee at once avowed his utter repugnance to such an unnatural and impure union; and solemnly urged Mr. Bullfinch to reconsider the matter, and, with a noble magnanimity, release his unhappy daughter from her engagement.
"Does she wish to be released?" was the reply of Mr. Bullfinch to this. They were alone when the question was asked.
"Oh, sir!" returned Mr. Lee, eagerly, "you need only look at her changed countenance for an answer. Believe me, sir, that she is laboring under some mental hallucination. Never, never — were her mind perfectly clear, and evenly balanced — would she consent to the formation of so unnatural a union. Never would she take upon herself holy vows, which can never be kept."
"Never kept! What am I to understand by this, Mr. Lee?" said Mr. Bullfinch.
"In the marriage service," replied Mr. Lee, "a woman promises to love and honor her husband."
"Well, sir, well?" Mr. Bullfinch spoke with a slight show of impatience.
"Honor and love must be spontaneous."
"Well?"
"You cannot extort them."
"No, certainly not — certainly not."
"Are you willing to marry a woman, who, in the very nature of things, can neither love nor honor her husband?"
"I need not answer the question," replied Mr. Bullfinch. "No man would be so great a simpleton."
"Believe me, sir," said Mr. Lee, solemnly, "that, if you commit the fatal error of making this young girl your wife — you will be in the unhappy position I have supposed."
Mr. Bullfinch smiled with a self-satisfied air, as he answered —
"You cannot frighten me from my purpose, Mr. Lee. Suggestions like these do not in the least alarm me. I believe I know Helen too well to doubt her truly wifelike qualities. I am extremely sorry that your hearty approval is not on our side. It should be; for opposition will only mar your daughter's happiness. Of one thing you may be very certain — I will love and care for her with a tenderness and devotion never exceeded. She will be to me, as the apple of an eye. My every thought will turn towards her. My very life will be devoted to her pleasure. I have wealth — and that will be at her command. Her love for her parents exceeds all selfish considerations. At once she will have it in her power to gratify this love; and in seeking that gratification, she will ever have a prompter in me. Surrounded by every external good, how can she fail to be happy? And how can she fail to love the hand which joyfully lays all these blessings at her feet? She cannot, Mr. Lee, she cannot."
"Do not deceive yourself, Mr. Bullfinch," answered Mr. Lee; "for deception in a matter like this, proves utterly disastrous. It takes more than wealth to buy the love of a true woman; and you will find it so in the end. Heart-affinities are governed by laws over which we have little control. Love-fires, which kindle not, though we blow with ever so much ardor — often shoot up into a broad, bright, never-dying flame, at a single breath."
Still the old man wavered not.
"Do you know," said Mr. Lee, as a new suggestion was flung into his mind — he spoke without due consideration, "that, in all marriages of youthful maidens with men far advanced in years — the young wife is subject to severe temptations?"
"From what source?" asked Mr. Bullfinch, in a quick voice.
"A maiden's affections are not under her control." As Mr. Lee commenced speaking, his wife, who had been in conference with her daughter, came into the room where they were sitting. "Few reach the age of Helen without a lover, young in years, like themselves. If the heart-impression is not too deeply made, a first lover may give place to a second; but the second, like the first, must be in the freshness and beauty of early manhood. An old man cannot take the place of either of these; because, in him, there can be no reciprocity. The fires of love are burning in a clear, bright flame on the altar of one heart — while upon the other, lie only the black and smoking remnants of an offered sacrifice. What, then, is the natural consequence of a union between the old and the young? Need I say? Does not your own mind instantly see the danger? An old husband — and a young lover!"
"Has your daughter a young lover?" asked Mr. Bullfinch, with more calmness than he felt. These suggestions of Mr. Lee disturbed him far more than he choose to let be seen.
"Few reach her age without a lover, as I have just remarked," was the evasive reply.
"But you do not answer my question," said Mr. Bullfinch.
"If my observation is correct — her heart is not altogether free."
"Mr. Lee!" exclaimed the mother of Helen. "How can you speak so? No one has visited her but young Harry Wellford, if the few calls he has made can be called visits. And he's nobody. I was so vexed at his assurance, last night, in asking for her, that I shut the door in his face!"
"Henry Wellford?" said Mr. Bullfinch, musingly, and he repeated the name over two or three times to himself. "Oh, ah!" he remarked, at length, "the young man who lives with Vincent."
"The same," replied Mr. Lee.
"He's nobody," replied Mr. Bullfinch, in a contemptuous manner. And yet Mr. Lee had planted a seed of jealousy in the old man's heart. How long it remained there without germinating, our story in its progress will show.
"You may well say that," spoke up Mrs. Lee, warmly; "I wonder my husband could refer to him at all. A mother, Mr. Bullfinch, ought to know something as to the state of her daughter's affections; and if my observation is worth anything at all, you may rest satisfied that Helen has never had a lover. In taking her for a wife, you may be certain of gettingan undivided heart."
Mr. Lee said no more. He saw that opposition would avail not; and was already aware that he had said too much, in his intimation that his daughter had a lover. This intimation might be, he now perceived, the germ of trouble in the future. It was an evil seed, and might produce a harvest of misery. The thought oppressed and silenced him.
"We had better be friends in this matter," said Mr. Bullfinch, speaking with exceeding kindness. "Friends, not in a mere repression of antagonisms, but in a hearty good will. I wish to be so. In regard to my marriage with your daughter, that is a matter settled beyond a question. If you throw impediments in the way, it will avail nothing, and only produce unhappiness. For your daughter's sake, then, give your full and free consent to this union. I will stand responsible for her happiness."
Mr. Lee said nothing, but sat with his feeble body crouched in his chair, his head bent forward, and his eyes upon the floor. Opposition, he felt to be hopeless, and he could not speak consenting words. Oh! how weak and hopeless he felt! He had been stricken down by poverty and disease, and could not rise again. How he panted, in spirit, for the old ability — for the vigor of early manhood, when a strong will had ready hands to do its bidding. Had these been with him, how indignantly would he have rebuked the old sensualist, and spurned him from under his roof.
The father was silent, but the weak mother consented to the sacrifice of her child, and consented with more of pleasure than pain; for, in her imagination, were bright pictures of the future, a future for herself as well as her daughter. By Helen's elevation — she would rise, and far above the present condition of hopeless strife with poverty. The mere worldly woman saw, in what the world had to offer — the greatest good. Ah! how often, during some twenty-five years of their married life, had the husband of this woman sighed, as he looked into her mind for higher, better, and purer instincts — and found them not! How sad he sometimes felt, in his little world at home! She, whom he had chosen as a life-companion, with whom he had hoped to form a true inner marriage union, had no appreciation of spiritual good — saw no desirableness in the higher truths which were to him so full of beauty. In what he loved — she saw nothing lovely; and, therefore, there was not with them that inner conjunction of thought and affection which constitutes a true marriage. He was desirous of growing wise — wise in the true sense, for he sought that wisdom which the world calls foolishness — but she did not desire his wisdom; and, therefore, she was only adjoined to him, as it were, externally. Thus had they passed through life, and the world regarded them as most happily united, as presenting an instance of true marital unity. How many are like them! But the worldly-mindedness is not always on the woman's side.
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