Volume II. The Wife CHAPTER 11.
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Florence entered her father's house and hurried up to her chamber, without meeting either of her parents. Closing the door and locking it, she threw herself panting upon her bed. Her thoughts were all in confusion, and her heart oppressed with a suffocating burden.
"I believe I am mad!" she at length said, in a low, solemn voice, rising up and looking around her. "What have I been doing? What have I promised?"
Sinking down again she covered her face with her hands, and lay motionless for a long time. Is about half an hour, she arose with a deep sigh, and after walking the floor of her chamber for half an hour, retired to bed.
In the morning her mind was calmer, and she saw, with more accuracy than before, her true position, and the folly of the step she was about to take. But how could she a second time break her promise to the man whom, in spite of reason, she loved? She felt that she could not. As the day advanced, she grew more and more agitated. To conceal this from her mother, she pretended not to be well, and kept her room.
Sometimes she would feel strongly inclined to go to her mother and confess all. But this idea would be abandoned almost as quickly as it was conceived. Her parents, she believed, would hear to nothing but her total abandonment of all expectation of becoming the wife of Archer, and to this she was not prepared to submit.
In the afternoon the infatuated girl went, according to promise, to the house of Mrs. Leslie, there to await the hour appointed for the performance of the marriage rite, which was to stamp upon her whole life the seal of wretchedness. Mrs. Leslie received her warmly, and lavished upon her every attention. But Florence felt unhappy, because sensible that the step about to be taken was a wrong one. It was now, however, too late to think of retracting. She was ready to fulfill her promise, even under the clear conviction that in so doing she was acting insanely.
Half an hour after Florence left her home, a servant brought to Mrs. Armitage a letter which had just been handed in at the door. She broke the seal and read as follows:
"Madam — The wolf is again entering the sheep-fold. Beware! As you value the present and future happiness of your daughter, guard her more carefully. Last night I saw her in company with that arch-deceiver whose attempt to possess her hand in marriage, I once thwarted! Could you have believed it? No! But it is true. The hawk is again seeking to consort with the dove!"
With this letter open in her hand, Mrs. Armitage went, acting from the impulse of the moment, direct to the room of her daughter. Florence was not there. She called to her, but no answer came from any part of the house. On inquiry she learned that she had gone out.
With much anxiety, and a mind greatly disturbed, the mother awaited her daughter's return. But the afternoon wore away, and evening found her still absent. When Mr. Armitage came home, she showed him the singular communication she had received. It made him very angry.
"If that girl is really so insane as to encourage and keep company with such an unprincipled scoundrel — she deserves to be turned out of the house!" he said.
"It is no time, now, husband," was the reply of Mrs. Armitage, "to indulge our indignant feelings. Let us rather, looking solely to the safety of our child, strive to keep her away from this fiend."
"But, don't you see that all our striving will be no better than the striving of a weak man against a strong current? If she is so infatuated already as to meet him without our knowledge, she will marry him, if so disposed, without our consent."
"Let us not look at the worst side. And after all, perhaps this letter does not tell the truth. Perhaps it is the work of some cruel-minded person, whose delight it is to give pain to others."
"I believe the letter to be genuine."
"It may be. I fear it is."
"What steps ought we to take? We must act promptly if we act at all."
"The best thing is, I suppose, to show this letter to Florence as soon as she comes home, and judge from the impression it makes upon her, how far she has suffered her feelings to become again impressed favorably in regard to the young man. When we see the extent of the evil, we shall be better able to guard against it."
But they waited in vain. The warning had come too late. While they sat anxiously expecting her return, she was pledging herself to one who loved her — as the wolf loves thelamb.
On the next morning the newspapers announced the marriage of William Archer and Florence Armitage, to the astonishment and grief of all who knew them. As early as eight o'clock, a letter was received by Mr. and Mrs. Armitage, from their daughter and her husband. It set forth all their reasons for the hurried step they had taken, pretty much in the order that Archer had previously suggested to Florence, and begged to be taken into favor.
Mr. Armitage flung the letter from him, and left the house, declaring that they would never cross his threshold while he lived! Mrs. Armitage shut herself up in her room and wept all the morning.
When the father and mother again met, both were calm, and deeply thoughtful. Nothing was said about the communication which they had received. The meal passed in silence. Mr. Armitage went slowly back to his store, and Mrs. Armitage again shut herself up in her room.
"Poor Florence!" said Mrs. Armitage, thinking aloud, as she sat by the side of her husband after the tea things had been removed that evening.
Mr. Armitage sighed.
On the next morning, as her husband was about leaving with a gloomy countenance for the store — Mrs. Armitage remarked that they should not forget that Florence was still their child.
Her husband looked at her for a moment or two. His face was not stern. It wore an expression of mingled grief and tenderness. But he made no answer; only sighing, and then turning away and leaving the house.
During the morning another letter came from the young couple. It was humble in its tone, and expressed great anxiety for a reconciliation. It was in the hand-writing of Florence, and was soiled, in many places, with tears. The mother wept over it for an hour. When her husband came home, she placed it in his hands. He affected a sternness of manner, when he saw from whom it had come. But this soon gave way to the power of his real feelings. Mrs. Armitage watched him closely as he bent over the letter. Her heart trembled as she saw his hand, after he had read a few lines, go quickly to his eyes, and dash aside a tear that dimmed his vision. He read on; but, long before he reached the last line, he had thrown down the letter and was weeping like a child.
Before an hour passed, Florence was in her mother's arms.
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