Chaste as Ice, Pure as Snow. A novel ... Second edition

Front matter

CHASTE AS ICE, PURE AS SNOW, X flo-cl. BY MRS. M. C. DESPARD. Ham. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry : Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Hamlet, act iii. scene i. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. III. Jkcimj*) (Eiiitislit. ■"Ermtmrt : SAMUEL TINSLEY, 10, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND 1874. [All rights of translation and reproduction are reserved.} CONTENTS OF VOL. III.

PART IV.

— continued. AT WORK WITH A WILL. CHAPTER pAGE VII. THE WORK OP MARGARET'S MESSENGER BEGUN ... 1 VIII. A TETE-A-TETE DINNER AT THE HOTEL 20 IX. A TORMENTED SPIRIT 41 X. PEACE, BE STILL 53 XI. HAUNTING MEMORIES 62 XII. TOLD AMONG THE SNOWS 78

Part I

A WOMAN FACE TO FACE WITH THE WORLD. x ART I V . — continued. AT WORK WITH A WILL.

CHAPTER VII. THE WORK OF MARGARET'S MESSENGER BEGUN.

Sometimes we feel the wish across the mind, Rush like a rocket tearing up the sky, That we should join with God and give the world The slip ; but while we wish, the world turns round, And peeps us in the face — the wanton world, We feel it gently pressing down our arm. Maurice and his servant reached the hotel in safety. Its situation was fine, though not to be compared with that of the Englishman's chosen dwelling. It was perhaps too much shut in with the great giants that enclose the valley in their apparently indissoluble embrace, too much under their shadow for their true grandeur to VOL. TIL be felt. In the summer and early autumn it was a busy place, for it was a favourite resting point and suitable centre for many excursions. But at this time, as Karl had wisely predicted, it was nearly empty.

The flock of guides who, during the summer months, had been accustomed to haunt its approach, had gone home to their families, and their winter life among the herds of cattle and goats ; the dependances were entirely closed, and many of the windows of the hotel itself showed white blinds, and a general appearance of being shut up for the time. Nevertheless, in the village of Grindelwald, a slight commotion seemed to be on foot, of which the hotel was apparently the centre. Curious men, in white ties, were discussing volubly with the few rough outsiders who, in the vague hope of further spoil, were haunting the outskirts of the hotel, with bare-backed mules and alpen stocks; from the little shop where carvings and views were temptingly exhibited the ancient proprietor was looking curiously across at the hotel ; and the village people were gathered to gether in small knots, evidently discussing some object of common interest.

Into the midst of this excitement Maurice Grey and his servant walked quietly, about noon on this bright au tumnal day. Karl pricked up his ears. "Something has happened, meinherr," he ventured, with the familiarity of a favourite attendant ; then, perceiving no sign of disap proval : " Travellers lost in yesterday's mist. Ach ! wie schrecklich !" he continued, lapsing into German, as exciting scraps of one of the many conversations reached his ears. " Meinherr has, without doubt, heard. ' II ne peut pas se con soler.' An Englishman, it may well be, who has lost his son, perhaps even two. Will meinherr permit that I make inquiry ?" Maurice could not help laughing at the man's overweening curiosity. " Ask about my room and luggage first," he said, " then you may do as you like." But, by this time, the landlord had seen the Englishman, and had advanced, hat in hand, to ask his pleasure.

The rarity of new arrivals in this season made an extra coating of politeness desirable. " Is anything wrong ." asked Maurice, when the trivial matter of accommodation had been settled. 1—2 The landlord answered in French. He had never been able to acquire English. " Ah, monsieur — a sad event indeed ; but come within, and you shall hear of it. We are idle now, and my people have nothing better to do than to talk about these things. Better not — better not," and he shook his head seriously. " But why ?" asked Maurice, his curiosity aroused. " Is there anything particularly mys terious about this event, which seems to have excited you all so much ?" " Mysterious ; monsieur has truly chosen a right word to describe this occurrence." And he proceeded to pour into Maurice's ear some account of the sensational event, which had that day formed the one topic of conversation in the little village.

It will be as well, perhaps, to take the story out of his hands and to give, in a few words, a resume of what, with interruptions and circum locutions manifold, the landlord made compre hensible at last to his new guest. It seemed that a few days before the English man's arrival, several travellers had put up at the hotel, apparently with the intention of stay ing there some time. The first party consisted of only two, an elderly gentleman who appeared to be in a bad state of health, and a child strikingly lovely, if the impassioned description of the landlord was at all worthy of belief. They took three rooms en suite, and the little lady was to be constantly attended by one of the chambermaids. Later, in the same day, the second party arrived. It consisted of two gentlemen and a lady, all of whom gave Austria as their country.

The lady, a peculiarly proud and beautiful woman, seemed to be the wife of one of the gentlemen, but they both treated her with a tolerable amount of carelessness. For two days these different families had remained in the hotel without meeting, or having any intercourse one with the other, for the elderly gentleman had been suffering so acutely that he never left his room, and the child would not leave his side. On the third or fourth day he appeared at the table d'hote, accompanied by the little girl, and seats were placed for them exactly opposite to those occupied by the Austrians. The lady and one of the gentlemen were already seated when they entered. One of the waiters, it appeared, was a particularly observant character, though, indeed, there are always observant characters at hand when such are found convenient, and a waiter's life at some large hotel is specially favourable to the cultivation of this habit of mind.

Many a waiter might frame exciting romances, the materials drawn simply from the sphere of his own observations. The waiter in question was German — a man of an inquiring turn of mind — and specially given to the study of character. Some peculiarity of countenance, as he afterwards declared, led him to look rather attentively at the dark, handsome face of the Austrian lady. Lost in his favourite study, he forgot to notice by the necessary bustle, the drawing out of chairs, and re-adjustment of knives and forks, the entry of the elderly Frenchman and his fair-haired child. He could not, therefore, have been mistaken in his assertion, that, as the lady lifted her eyes from her plate, and caught a glimpse of the new arrival, her face became suddenly convulsed. She started violently, first flushed crimson, then turned as pale as death.

This circumstance made the intelligent waiter think. He turned his attention instantly from the strangely-affected lady to the apparent cause of her agitation, but here he was partially baffled. There seemed to have been a kind of flash of recognition in the face of the gentleman with the iron-gray hair, as he seated himself op posite to her, even this, however, was so slight, that, possibly, he might only have imagined it, for the Frenchman's conduct duringthe time allotted to dinner was absolutely natural. Once or twice he even looked across at his-com panions, with that quiet species of scrutiny which is allowable between perfect strangers meeting in this way, and several times he addressed himself in French to one or other of the gentlemen who faced him. The lady made no further sign, only to the far-seeing German she seemed to be making a violent effort to con trol herself.

On the evening of that day some thing, he did not explain what, led this particular waiter to the part of the house in which the suite of rooms taken by the gentleman, who will have been recognized as M. L'Estrange, was situated. He stated afterwards that he had been chained to the spot, the spot being the outside of the door of the Frenchman's apartment, by strange and un usual sounds. He heard a woman's voice, inter rupted often with tears and sobs ; she was speaking in tones of entreaty or expostulation, raising her voice violently from time to time, as her excitement grew with her theme. What that was the waiter could not precisely say. He was an exact man, who never liked to go beyond his authority. In fact, as he was eminently practical, and had never cultivated his imaginative faculties, per haps he chose the easiest course.

Stern, low tones answered from time to time the woman's impassioned appeals, and, at last, very suddenly as it seemed, the door was thrown violently open, and, cloaked and hooded, her face covered by a thick, black veil, there walked out the proud Austrian lady. He recognized her by her exceptional height and her stately carriage. The door was closed softly from the inside, and the lady walked rapidly through the pas sage to her own rooms, which were situated in another part of the house. This happened two days before the arrival of Maurice. In the night the lady had disap peared. A French waiter went at the same time, whether as her attendant or not no one could discover. One thing alone was certain, the deed had been cleverly done. During the whole of those days the lady had been sought, but sought in vain.

" We thought her husband careless," said the landlord, in conclusion ; " but ever since he has been like a madman. We dare not tell him what monsieur knows about the conversation that has been overheard ; the life of the French gentleman, who seems still very ill, would scarcely be safe, and, after all, who can say ? He seems to have acted well. A woman's caprice, an old attachment. Monsieur will doubt less be of my advice. It would be useless to arouse ill feeling without just cause." And so saying, the landlord shrugged his shoulders. Why should he affect himself at all with the miseries of forsaken husbands or run away wives ? It is an ill wind that blows nobody good, and the landlord, to speak truly, was not discontented with the kind of notoriety which this romantic tale, told and retold, as it might very probably be, specially if the denoument should turn out to be tragic, would bring upon his house.

Maurice Grey read something of this in the man's eyes, and, in his turn, he shrugged his shoulders, a sign, with him, of bitter contempt. Not " What fools," but " What knaves these mortals be !" was the constant cry of his sick soul. It was meeting him again, as he emerged from his solitude. When the landlord left him to answer some summons, Maurice Grey looked out upon the mountains, and laughed a laugh that was sad to hear, for under the mirth lay a weary weight of misery and bitterness. Woman inconstant, man faithless, everywhere self-interest the great rul ing motive of life, and in all the green earth no spot where he could lay his head, feeling " here I may rest writh a perfect confidence." The man's heart contracted painfully; from such a standing-point as his the outlook on humanity is gloomy indeed.

He felt for a moment that he would fain be out of it all. The frank, round face of Karl aroused him to a sense of his position, and to the recollection that, while such simple souls as his were left, all honesty had not passed away from the earth. It was certainly a relief. " Meinherr's rooms are ready, his fire lit, and his clothes airing. Will he please to see if everything is to his liking ?" said the German. " Where is my room ?" "In the best part of the house, eccellenz, close to the apartments occupied by the gentle man of whom he has doubtless heard." " The inconsolable husband ?" Maurice's lips were curled into a kind of sneer as he asked the question. " No, meinherr ; the other person concerned, as they say, in this sad business — a Frenchman, I believe." " So all these details are the common talk of the place," said Maurice to himself.

" Unfortu nate man !" And then he set his teeth together. " I acted wisely," he muttered ; " such a scandal as this would have killed me." He said nothing more to Karl, and the honest soul, who had rejoiced in the interest his master was taking in sublunary affairs, who had been congratulating himself, in fact, on the very rapid success of his plan for drawing his master out of his dark moods, was distressed and perplexed to see the old frown gather on his brow, to hear his fierce, impatient sigh, and to find himself banished summarily from his room with the curt abruptness to which Karl had become accustomed. Left alone, Maurice sat down by the little wood fire, which had been kindled solely in con sideration for his feelings as an Englishman, and returned to his sad pondering. He was playing a dangerous game with himself, for he was in that mood which has often tempted a man to tamper with his humanity — to put out his rash hand and experimentalize on the nature whose fearful beauty and hidden mystery it is impossi ble for him to understand.

It would have been better, a thousand times better, for the English man at such a moment as this to have thrown himself into any kind of work, to have sought society, however humble, to have looked for some interest in the outer world — anything would have been better, indeed, than this giving way to the spirit that possessed him — this looking for and searching into what no son or daughter of humanity may fathom. Like a fiend's temptation ran backwards and forwards through his mind, haunting him with its dull rhythm, the burden of a song that he remembered to have heard in some bygone time — A still small voice, it spake to me — Thou art so full of misery, Were it not better not to be i" And again, with an added force — " Thou art so steeped in misery, Surely 'twere better not to be — better not to be.' As he repeated these words half aloud, Maurice rose and paced the room excitedly. :' Yes," he said to himself, " a wise counsel ! men — women — what are they?"

He knit his brows, and his eyes looked fierce. " What are we ? — Miserable ; and our misery makes us bad! God!— if there be a God !"— he lifted his pale, agitated face ; but, underlying his wretched, wild doubts, might have been read there the reverence of a fine soul. " Why are we miserable? — seeking good for ever more and finding evil — inconstancy — falsehood ! Why is our fair world the abode of fiends incarnate, who burden the ages with their folly ? And, if we were happy " — again he lifted his pale face, and the dazzling snow-peaks, against their azure background, met his gaze — "if we were happy," he repeated slowly — "if she had been happy ! — Oh ! God, she would have been good, for the soul of purity was in her ; but misery brings madness to the blood and thoughts of evil to the heart ; and for misery there is no cure under the sun !"

For a few moments he remained perfectly still and silent, his arms folded, his brow contracted, looking out upon the snow-fields ; then added, this time half aloud — " but one!" He turned from the window, and cast a rapid, hungry glance round the room. It was comfortably arranged, the small wood fire crackling merrily, the clothes he was about to wear hang ing on a chair beside it carefully brushed, his bed turned down, exhibiting the wdiitest of white linen ; but what specially drew Maurice's attention was his portmanteau, which, after the necessary articles had been taken from it, Karl had left open, that the expediency of further unpacking might be decided by his master. It was a large travelling portmanteau, evidently full of a miscellaneous collection of articles- — books, dressing apparatus, clothes, curiosities, picked up in wandering from place to place.

On one of these curiosities, which was lying near the top of the open side, Maurice's eyes finally rested. For a moment he gazed silently, then, crossing the room, took it up in his hand to examine it more closely. A case, containing a pair of small pocket-pistols, the barrels of silvered metal, richly chased with gold. One of these Maurice removed from its covering. He handled it with a certain curiosity, took it to pieces to examine its condition, cleaned it with the most delicate care, then, after putting it together again, spent a few moments in listening to its click. It looked more like an elegant toy than a dangerous weapon. Maurice put it down and returned it to the case, which contained, besides the com panion pistol, a small flask of gunpowder and some bullets. These he took out; then, in a quiet, leisurely manner, proceeded to load the pistol.

His attitude was rather that of a man who is amusing himself, trying to kill time, than of one who has any serious purpose in view. And perhaps, at this moment, Maurice was scarcely serious. In any case, when his work was done, he did not proceed further ; he put the pistols down again; it almost seemed as if this quiet, ordinary occupation (for Maurice's firearms had always been treated by him with minute personal care — he did not allow a servant to touch them) had quieted the tone of his mind and banished some of his dark thoughts. He put down the pistol then, and turned back to the fireside to resume his unhealthy musing. For here lay Maurice Grey's error. Instead of mastering his morbid feelings, driving them away by stress of hard work and diversity of thought, he, like many a strong man before and since, suffered them to master him.

Again and again he would return to the old mystery, bringing the energy of his soul to bear upon it. Again and again it would elude him, till, mortified and baffled, tied down to the narrow circle of self-knowledge, a broad outlook on humanity impossible by reason of his self chosen fate, he had come to loathe his very life as an evil thing. It is easier to meet a foe in fair fight than a giant formed by a diseased imagination — blurred, indistinct, but awful with the terrors of the unknown. With his small pistol within reach, Maurice set to work once more, thinking over humanity's woes and wrongs, gloomily seeking for the shadow of a reason why life should be thought worth having — why it would not be well to pass out from it once and for ever through the lurid portals of self-destruction !

What wonder that his unhealthy pondering should point out to him no ray of light, no gleam of hope ! But, happily for Maurice, and for the many who were interesting themselves in his welfare, his mind, at the time, could bear no further tension. Rather to his own surprise, he found it wandering from the solemn question of life versus death to the common things that sur rounded him. How strange it is that, at the solemnest moments, the trivial and commonplace intrude the most perseveringly ! And yet it is a fact that might be proved by numberless instances. Maurice's window looked out upon the hotel garden ; gradually, as the tension on his nerves grew less, he caught himself counting and remarking curiously the very few who, from time to time, passed up and down the snow shrouded paths and alleys.

A woman-servant, apparently looking for some kind of herb ; two waiters, who walked rapidly up and down, as if enjoying the keen air and glittering sunshine ; the landlady, in morning undress, crossing to the dependance in the grounds, and returning with some utensil which had been left there accidentally; finally — and this it was that rivetted Maurice's attention — a traveller, pro bably a new arrival, for the landlord had given Maurice a detailed account of all those who were in his house at the time, especially giving him to understand that no English visitors remained. And this young man was certainly from Eng land. What other country could have produced the faultless exterior with regard to form, the fair freshness of face, the well-bred nonchalance of manner ? The young man held a cigar lightly in the VOL. IH. tips of his fingers, his lively whistle penetrated to Maurice's retreat, he walked up and down on the crystallized snow with a resolute, energetic step ; there was, to the eyes of the jaded man of the world, something peculiarly pleasant and attractive about his general appearance.

" I wonder who he is," said Maurice to him self. " It would be rather pleasant to meet any thing so fresh ; he has a good face, too. That young fellow is no scamp." Inconsistency of human nature, or rather, perhaps, adaptability to' circumstances. Mau rice, a few moments before, had been con demning his generation indiscriminately, calling men and women by the harshest names in the vocabulary, longing passionately to escape from them for ever. Appears upon the scene a young man, with a fair, fresh face, and he endows him immediately with the qualities in which all his kind had been pronounced deficient ! Strange, but true, for such is fife, so complex a thing, driven hither and thither by trifles light as air. Maurice Grey turned away from the window, looked with a half-smile, half-tremor at the loaded pistol, put it in a safe place lest Karl should see fit to meddle with it, and proceeded to dress himself carefully for the early table d'hote dinner. And thus, though he himself w7as all un conscious of the fact, the work of Margaret's messenger was begun. 2—2

CHAPTER VIII.

A TETE-A-TETE DINNER AT THE HOTEL. For how false is the fairest breast ; How little worth, if true ; And who would wish possessed, What all must, scorn or rue 1 Then pass by beauty with looks above ; Oh ! seek never — share never — woman's love. Maurice Grey's costume was as faultless as that of the young man whom he had admired in the hotel-garden, when, at the strange hour of two o'clock p.m., he, in obedience to the sum moning bell, peered into the long dining-room, at the extremity of which was a small table, spread with two or three covers. Karl, his face beam ing all over, as he recognized his master, was standing behind the chair destined for him, the young Englishman was brushing his feet vio-or ously on the mat before the door that stood midway in the room, two waiters were hoverino about helplessly.

Maurice took his place at one side, Arthur Forrest seated himself at the other side of the table. They were Englishmen, and total strangers one to the other, therefore it is scarcely necessary to say that the places they chose were as far apart as the small size of the table would permit. And yet the two men were anxious to know one another ; Maurice, because he felt that his companion's freshness would be a relief to his jaded soul ; Arthur, because he had recog nized in Maurice Grey the husband of Margaret, the man for whom he had been searching through the length and breadth of Europe. Burning with anxiety to unfold his mission, he could scarcely preserve his composure now the fateful moment had arrived, now he and the man he had been seeking were at last face to face. For he could not be mistaken ; he had ascertained from the landlord the name of this only other Englishman besides himself who had not fled from the valleys at the first breath of winter, and Maurice's likeness, confided to him by Margaret, had been too often studied in its every lineament for him not to be able at once to know its original.

With the knowledge came an excitement that threatened to overpower him utterly ; but he controlled himself. That calm self-possession, and a certain amount of diplo macy, were absolutely necessary, if he would bring his mission to a successful issue, he felt most keenly. Once Maurice caught the young man's eye scanning his face, and, as the eyes met, Arthur blushed ; he felt, too much for his comfort and composure, that the slightest false move might be fatal. Maurice was utterly unsuspicious ; he attributed his young companion's confusion to embarrassment at being caught exhibiting a little too much curiosity, and he was simply amused, determining, in his own mind, to find out more about the young fellow7, so evidently a gentleman, yet so frank and transparent in his ways. A few moments of delay passed by ; then, as there was no further accession to the company, soup was served.

Arthur, too full of tremulous excitement to be able to find a single commonplace, began to eat in total silence ; Maurice looked across at him between the spoonfuls. " Apparently we are to dine alone together," he said at last, with a pleasant smile; "rather a different scene from the one I looked in upon a few weeks ago." " I suppose this place is very full in the season," was Arthur's not very brilliant reply. " Specially so this year ; it is gaining in re nown, and certainly the situation is good, but to me hotel life is so distasteful." Arthur was beginning to gain confidence. "Do you think so?" he said. "Now, I like it ; abroad, that is to say ; the people one meets are off thenstilts, and generally inclined to be friendly; there is no bother, something ap proaching to comfort, and plenty of fife and gaiety."

" I'm afraid present circumstances will scarcely answer to your description," said Maurice. Arthur laughed. " No, indeed, you and I seem to be the only sane people in the establish ment. I gather from the waiters, one of whom, happily for me, speaks English, that the present company consists of an elderly gentleman, ill, or out of his mind, certainly peculiar ; his daughter, an angel of beauty and goodness ; a fuming Austrian, scouring the mountains for his lost wife ; attendant brother, similarly occupied ; landlord, landlady, staff of servants." Maurice smiled, " I think you have omitted nobody, only, for fear your expectations should have risen too high, even under circumstances so meagre, I should, inform you that the angel of beauty is a child, a mere baby ; but my arrival only preceded yours by a few hours, so, like you, I speak from rumour.

Now, may I venture to ask how long you will be likely to stand out against such an atrocious state of things ? I have an interest in the question, as I believe I am a fixture for some time." It was by no means an easy question for Arthur to answer. He might have said that the time of his stay depended entirely upon Maurice himself. Not being able to give the true answer, he treated the question as lightly as possible. " Oh ! I can scarcely say, exactly. I was recommended to come : mountains in winter, snow, and that kind of thing ; they certainly look very well, but you see I am not precisely an enthusiast in that line." " Was it for your health ?" asked Maurice, with grave interest, looking compassionately at the fresh young face, whose brilliant colouring might possibly hide disease. This question made Arthur turn as red as fire.

The knowledge of what his errand really was rendered him painfully self-conscious. " Why, no— yes— no, I mean," he answered, his confusion growing as he advanced. " What a fool I must be !" he muttered to himself angrily ; then, as he caught a faint smile, polite but perplexed, on the lips of his questioner, he controlled himself suddenly. " The fact is," he said, rapidly, " I've been so desperately chaffed about this midwinter journey, — but you see I rather like cold weather, and the air here is bracing." Maurice saw his questions had been ill-timed, and, with true courtesy, proceeded to change the subject. " You would not have said so yesterday. Then, and for some days previously, it was anything but bracing up here. We had a fine blanket of cold mist about us ; not a tree to be seen within the distance of a hand's breadth." • " I thought you had only arrived yesterday," said Arthur, a tremor in his voice.