Romantic Tales. A new edition. By the author of 'John Halifax, Gentleman'

Front matter

The Rosicrucian p. 336. IS65. ROMANTIC TALES. BY THE AUTHOR OF " JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN," ETC. etc. WITH FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS A NEW EDITION. LONDON: SMITH, ELDER AND CO., 65, CORNHILL. 1865. J offer thesq, that ujqe of m» JJtag-daDS, I0 «Pag.

ADVERTISEMENT.

. The Romantic Tales composing this volume formed part of a collection of Stories of romantic character and domestic interest, written by the author of " John Halifax, Gentlemen," and published in three volumes under the title of " Avillion and other Tales." The Domestic Stokies form a separate volume. CONTENTS. PAGE AVILLION ; OR, THE HAPPY IsLES 1 The Self-seer . <___ 00 The Sculptor of Bruges 154 The Daughter of Heremon ],;g King Tolv 184 Erotiox 1 99 Cleomenes the Greek o26 The Story of Hyas 256 The Cross on the Snow Mountains 289 The Rosicrucian 336 Antonio Melidori 3gj The Story of Elisabetta Sirani 3g2 A Life Episode AVILLION; OH, THE HAPPY ISLES. A FIRESIDE FANCT. " I am going a long way, With these thou seest — if, indeed, I go — (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) To the island-valley of Avillion." — Tennyson.

Chapter I

We sat together on the deck, Lilias and I, listening to the boom of the wide Atlantic, and looking into each other's eyes — a thriftless occupation, but infinitely sweet. We had not grown tired of it yet, though we had been married three weeks ; our love was not even a shadow the less. It seemed impossible for us to date its beginning ; Heaven grant we may never know its end ! We had been wedded three weeks. Three weeks ! Could it be, then, that only one little month had passed since that day — the day of days ! — when But I will tell all con cerning it. I will chronicle its every hour, whether of suffering or joy; for now both are alike written goldenly on this happy heart of mine. I had been ill for a long time — indeed, from my youth up I have rarely known the blessing of continuous health.

But though this circumstance gave a languor and a half-melan- B choly dreaminess to my whole character, 1 think, too, it made me more humble, more loving, more thankful for all the love which was showered upon me. And when my long illness came, this blessing increased tenfold. I heard people compassionate " poor Wilfred Mayer," and say how hard it was that a young man should have the strength and glory of his youth brought thus low. I did not feel it so; I knew that there was power, aye, and beauty, in my soul ; and I cared not for the feeble body. Besides, I lived in such an atmosphere of love. There was my father; my bold, frank hearted brother, younger than I, yet assuming all the tender protection of eldership; Hester, the most loving of sisters; and one, dearer than any sister — Lilias Hay.

But the day — that day ! In the morning I, feeble always, seemed feebler than ordinary. I lay back in my arm-chair, listening to the soft pattering of the April rain upon the window-sill, without any connected thought, except a fear that the weather might keep Lilias Hay in-doors : and I did not like to miss seeing her, even for a day. I heard the sound of an opening door; but it was only the physician — accompanied by a second, whom I had not seen before. I was disappointed, and paid little heed to either, until I noticed that they drew my sister aside, and spoke earnestly. While she listened, Hester turned pale, looked at me, and began to weep. Her tears seemed to fall on my heart like ice-drops, piercing me with a shuddering dread. I felt, I knew, that that smooth-tongued stranger had, with his calm, stolid lips, pronounced my death-doom.

And I must die ! The Shadow, hovering near me so long that I had ceased to regard it, was then close at hand — its very breath was upon me I I must die ! Hester came to my side with the second physician. I looked fixedly upon him, my doomer. I believe I said some words which betrayed my thoughts; for he answered, with a bland, cheerful smile, " that I must not imagine anything so serious ; a voyage, perhaps a summer in Madeira, would soon " I turned away; I would hear no more of the smiling lie. Thank God, it was not breathed by Hester's lips ! No ; she only wept, and kissed me once or twice softly. "In a week he must go 1" I heard the physician whisper. Then I knew there was no hope. They went away, and left me alone. I tried to think of peace, of religion ; I tried to say, " Thy will be done;" but the strong writhings of human passion shut out from me even the face of God.

To die, to leave all my dear ones, to part from Lilias Hay ! — I uttered her name almost with a groan — the thought was horrible. In this fearful moment I knew how madly, how despairingly, I loved her. She knew it, too, though I had never told her so. There was no need. The deep tenderness between us had grown from year to year, until it became a part of our life. I say our life; for we seemed to have but one. Neither said, " I love ; " but the daily tide of our existence as it flowed harmoniously on, cried out with its thousand voices, " See, how these two love one another ! " I had hitherto been content that it should be so, knowing well that Lilias would wed no man save me, and that one day the loving friendship between us would be changed for a closer bond. But now I must die — die without having called her wife, without even having taken her once to my heart.

O misery ! that blessed, long-dreamed-of moment would never come; I must go down into the dark grave; I must lay my head in the dust there, and not on the pure, faithful bosom of my Lilias Hay ! I groaned aloud; I writhed in my anguish. Life and youth were yet strong within me. / could not die. Some times I resolved at all hazards to tell Lilias of my love. Perhaps I might draw life from the lips of my betrothed; perhaps a wife's prayers might yet stand between me and the Destroyer. I would risk it! I would ask her to wed me now — at once. What — wed youth with sickness, peace with misery, life with death ? God forgive the sinful thought ! No; rather let me die alone, with dumb lips that carried b their eternal secret mournfully to the grave. Best so — best even for her sake. I grew calmer.

My frozen despair melted into a dew of tears. I began to pray the prayers that my dead mother had taught me when I was a child. They made me feel like a child now, peaceful and humble. When Hester came in again, I was able to look in her face and smile. She did not weep, but talked with me calmly and affectionately about my journey. I said I would rather remain at home ; but she prayed — nay, they all prayed — that I would embrace any chance that might spare me longer to their dear love. I promised. Then my sister left the room, and brought in Lilias Hay. Lilias was very pale, but composed and tearless. She came and sat down beside me, in her usual place. I laid my hand on her lap; she took it, and held it for a long time without a word. " You know all, Lilias ; that I am going to Madeira ?

" " Yes." I marvelled, nay, I was almost pained, that she said no more. My Lilias ! I did not know thy heart even then ! They were all in the room : my father, Charles, Hester, and one who was to be Hester's bridegroom that very month. As they began to consult as to who should accompany me on this voyage of doom, young Fortescue drew her nearer to him with an anxious look. Hester cast her eyes down ; but I saw the struggle in her heart. I would not put the claim even of a dying brother before that of an affianced husband. I said I would rather have Charles with me ; and, after some resistance, Hester assented. They soon went away, and left me, as they often did, alone with my friend Lilias. My friend! Was it friendship, when her every tone, her every movement, caused my heart to thrill, even through the cold sluggish pulses of disease.

How keenly I suffered 1 How I yearned to lay my cheek on the dear hand I held, and pray her to take my poor dying head to her bosom, and let my last breath utter the life-long love which on earth might never be fulfilled. But I uttered it not. Even when, speaking of my going away so soon, her words came brokenly, and she leaned her brow against my chair in a long tearful silence ; I only laid my hand softly on her hair, and bade " God bless her." Better, I thought, that she should mourn as a friend than as a widow. — Lilias, my faithful one, was I right? Then we talked in a quiet, ordinary way, about my journey and its arrangements. " Hester will go with you, surely ; of course, Hester must go," said Lilias. " No. Hester must not, ought not," I answered, earnestly. " Nothing should divide two who love one another."

And then I trembled at my words, and I saw Lilias tremble too. But soon after she spoke of some indifferent subject, and continued to do so until the time came for her to go home. We bade each other " good-night" (we dared not say " good bye"), parting as usual with the long, lingering hand-clasp only. She walked slowly to the door, her step seeming to me like the rending of soul and body. Whether by gesture or groan I betrayed the agony I know not ; but Lilias turned round. The next moment she had flung herself on her knees beside me. " Wilfred, Wilfred ! in life or death I cannot part with you. Hush ! " — and her voice grew solemn -with unutterable tenderness — "do not speak. Let me say the truth, long known to us both — that — " But she could not say it. Only she caught my hands — wildly, fondly, fast — " Oh, Wilfred 1 do not — nay, you shall not go alone.

Friend ! lover ! husband! take me with you ! " I fell forward — my head on her shoulder. My lips asked feebly and blindly for the holy seal of troth-plight. I felt it — the first pure kiss of Lilias Hay; and then I felt no more, but sank into a swoon of joy. It lasted not long ; for with returning consciousness came that iron will of self-martyrdom, which would have made me die with my love unspoken : I lifted myself from her enclasping arms. " Lilias," I cried, " this must not be. You would give me life, and I you — death. I dare not take the boon." She arose; quick blushes diffused her face and neck, and then faded away. O love ! my faithful love ! I could dream I saw thee now, leaning over me with that white marble brow, and low, solemn voice. " Wilfred, you think of yourself alone — you have not remembered me.

Your love is my life — you have no right to take that from me. If I must suffer, better — better a thousand times, that I should suffer with you than apart." And she sank once more on her knees beside me. " Oh, Wilfred ! my only comfort — my only hope in this world — cast me not from you. Let me be your wife, to watch, tend, and cherish you, until — until you go away, and then to follow — soon, oh, soon ! " I opened my arms, crying, " Lilias, come." And thus, in one long embrace, silent as death, or love, we plighted our troth to each other. A week after I and my loife were in the midst of the wide ocean, on our way to Madeira. Reader, you do not wonder now that it was almost heaven to me to lie silent on the twilight-shadowed deck, doing nothing, save look into the eyes of my Lilias. They were eyes, now bright with hope as well as love : for it seemed as though the shadows of doom were passing away from mine.

I drank in the soft breezes of the southern sea ; they gave me new life, as all said. But I knew, O my wife ! that this new life was brought by that precious love of thine. CHAPTER H. It was a pleasant voyage — by day under the sunny heaven, by night beneath the stars. Many a time Lilias and I sat for hours together on the deck, hand in hand like little children, pleased with the veriest trifles — a cloud on the sky, a flying fish on the water — talking sweet idleness, half sense, half nonsense, as loving and happy ones ever will ; and then my wife would shake her head with a mock reproof, and say, we ought to be ashamed of ourselves — we, burthened between us with the conjoined weight of nearly fifty years. She was so happy, that she even used to sport with me, sometimes jesting about my having compelled herself to become the wooer at last.

She kept buzzing about me like a merry little bee, her blithe voice lulling me either by song or speech, until, still feeble, I often sank to sleep on the deck, with my head in her lap. And then, many and many a time did I wake, feeling my hair wet with the dew of pas sionate tenderness which had rained on me from those dear eyes. " Thank God, thank God, for the blessedness of love ! " was all my heart could cry. But this it did cry, day and night, in a loud paean of joy that even angels might hear. Friend reader, I dare say thou thinkest we were a couple of simpletons ! We smile on thee calmly. Poor fool ! thou hast never loved. One night we watched the twilight into starlight, and could not tear ourselves from the quiet, lonely deck. It was a strange and awful thing to be sweeping in the darkness over that vast, desolate sea, with not a sound near us, save the flapping of a sail and the wind in the cordage singing almost like a human voice, or one which, though all spiritual now, yet comes laden with the echo of its remembered mortal wail.

Our converse partook of the character of the scene, and glided from the sweet trifling of contented earthly love, into the solemn communion of two spirits, wedded not only for life but for immortality. We spoke of the deep mysteries of our being, of the unseen and immaterial world. All these things were ever to me full of a strange fascination, in which Lilias shared. Why should she not ? All our lives we had thought alike, she following whither I led. But she ever walked meekly, knowing that the man is the head of the woman. Her wisdom was born and taught of love, as a woman's should be. And to me it brought not weariness but strength ; I thanked Heaven that the wife of my bosom was also the wife of my soul ! In the midst of our talk there came by our only fellow passenger, a German doctor.

He startled us both, as he moved from behind a sail, the setting moon lighting up his always pallid face and long, gray hair. He seemed to us, in our present visionary mood, almost phantom-like in his appearance. Lilias started, and then laughed. " It is only Herr Foerster. Let us speak to him." " No," I said, for I did not like the man. He was a mystic. He vexed me with his wild aspect, his floating locks, and his perpetual harangues about Kant and Swedenborg, and Jacob Boehmen. Dear Lilias combated my prejudice in her own gentle way. Where I condemned the eccentric philosopher, who hung out his wisdom as a sign to catch men's eyes, she pitied the strange old man, half-mad, and wholly desolate. " See, Wilfred, how wistfully he is looking out over the waters. We know not what sorrowful thoughts may be in that poor brain of his.

You will let me speak to him, dearest?" She had her way, for it was the right way, and I knew it. Iu a few minutes the old German was sitting with us, inclined to begin his fantastic lore. But the mood had changed since yesterday, and his speech was less mystic, and more full of dreamy poetry. I was thankful that he had forgotten Kant. As his countenance lighted up, and his speech grew earnest, I began to feel that there was sincerity even in his eccen tricities, and method in his madness. " You were standing mute and absorbed when I spoke to you, Herr Foerster," said Lilias. " Were you thinking about home ? " " I have no home." There was scarcely any sorrow in his eye or tone. He had passed these human weaknesses. " But I was watching for a home, a true home — one in AVILLI0N; OR, THE HAPPY ISLES. 9 search of which I have traversed these seas for ten years.

I shall find it some time — I know I shall." Lilias looked at him compassionately ; and then glanced involuntarily — first to the sea, then upwards to the starry, steel-blue sky. " No : you mistake ; " and the old mystic shook his head with a half-scornful smile, " I seek nothing so vague as that : I have no wish to die. Perhaps" — and his voice grew mysterious — " Perhaps I never may die." My wife crept nearer to me, and gazed earnestly on the man whom I now thought surely mad ; but there was no sign of frenzy in his manner. Reassured, Lilias again spoke. " Where and what is this home you seek ?" He pointed to the young moon just dipping into the western sea, amidst a bank of fantastic clouds — " Look there ! do you not see, beyond that pale crescent, where sea and sky meet, a luminous verge, resembling white hills and shining towers ?

Resembling, did I say ? Nay, it is ! That is the very spot I seek — the land beyond sunset — the Island of the Blest." Surprised and somewhat startled by his sudden vehemence, neither Lilias nor I made any answer. He went on, changing abruptly from the energy of enthusiasm to the calmness of eager reasoning. " You will doubt this, I know. You will think me mad. Many have done so — but I smile at them. The same was said of the great Ithacan — of Columbus — of other noble spirits who have set out on a like track." " But none have ever found its ending, Herr Foerster," said I. " No man ever yet reached the Island of the Blest." " Rather say, no man ever came back from thence. How should he?" And the German smiled a calm superior smile. As he went on, his plain, well-arranged arguments almost staggered my doubts as to his insanity.

His speech was so like truth. " Men in all ages have believed in the existence of this land. Legends, variously modified by different ages and climes, have all agreed in this universal fact, that far west ward, in the midst of the vast mysterious ocean, untraversed and untraversable by man, lies an island, whose dwellers have all the joys of humanity without its pain — all the sensuous delights of earth, combined with the purity of heaven. Who knows but that the angels carried God's Eden and planted it there in the midst of the sea ? " " This faith is very beautiful," said Lilias, attracted even against her will. " I had rather believe thus, than believe that the divine garden — trodden of angels, visited by God — was transformed into a howling wilderness." I could not but smile at her graceful fancy ; but the influence of this strange man was upon me also.

" You say, Herr Foerster, that this belief has extended over all ages. How so?" " Is it not among the Greeks ? Listen to Homer." And with his grand, rich German accent, he poured out in kindred strength a torrent of that majestic Greek, which was in truth worthy to be the speech of Olympus — " The large utterance of the early gods." " It sounds glorious," murmured Lilias ; " but I am a woman, and have only a woman's learning. I should like to hear it in our English tongue." Herr Foerster obeyed. " Thus it runs, then : — ' But thee the ever-living gods will send Unto the Elysian plain and distant bounds Of earth- There life is easiest unto men: no snow, Or wintry storm, or rain, at any time Is there; but evermore the ocean sends Soft-breathing air of Zephyr to refresh The habitants.' " So says the blind seer and poet— for poets are all seers.

Hear, too, the grand Pindar, still speaking the belief of his AVIH.I0N; OR, THE HAPPY ISLES. 11 country — as in those days bard, prophet, and priest were one : — ' They speed their way To Kronos' palace, where around The Island of the Blest, the airs Of ocean breathe, and golden flowers Blaze: some on land From shining trees, and other kinds The water feeds. Of these Garlands and bracelets round their arms they bind.' " — Do you hearken, friends?" We did indeed sit listening, in a silence that was not without awe. The scene, the hour, the gestures and tones of this man, carried with them a supernatural influence. More and more he spoke, collecting with infinite learning every mythical fable that could suggest or confirm this belief ; the story of Ulysses, who sailed far into the wild desert of waters in search of the land beyond the sunset ; the Roman super stition of the Island of Atlantis, which ancient fable, if fable it were, had left its impress on the Atlantic ; the legends of mediaeval lore, that spurred on to enterprise a Columbus and a Gama ; the fantastic romance concerning the " happy land of Faerie," the Island of Avalon and its dwellers, once of earth — King Arthur, Sir Launfal, Ogier le Danois — all these fanciful creations of history and fiction were brought together by our companion — enthusiast or madman, whichever he were — with a reality utterly astounding.

" You see," he continued, " that each legend coincides in one fact — the Happy Islands that he in the western sea. Universal fable proves individual truth — at least I believed so ; and when the world became desolate to me, I turned my thoughts to a new land — the land of the blest." " You have suffered, then," whispered Lilias' tender voice. " Few men long so ardently for another world, as they whose hope is gone from this. But I must not speak of these things now: all are past — long past. Why did you make me think of them ? You — oh, you twain have no need to seek the Happy Isles." He drooped his face a moment, and then went on, harshly and wild as before. " I dreamed this dream, night and day, until I was convinced it was a truth. I squandered all my wealth — for whom should I keep it ? — and then set sail.

Ten years, ten long years, have I spent on these seas, passing from ship to ship— suffering famine and drought, fire and wreck ; yet never, oh ! never, have I touched the land of the blest. But, hark you !" and he caught my hand — " I know they are here, in this very ocean. I see them sometimes — at sunset, or at dawn, far off in the horizon: they never come nearer. But they will come near : ah, yes ! I know that some day I shall find the Happy Isles." He stretched his clasped hands towards the ocean in full confidence of faith. " Poor dreamer ! " I thought. " Are they wise or mad — to be envied or pitied — the many who, like thee, toss blindly on the world's dark sea, vainly seeking the Happy Isles ?" But I had not time for more speech ; for suddenly there seized me a racking pain, darting arrow-like through breast and brain.

It was the forewarning of sufferings I well knew of old. They came upon me, thronging thick and fast, sharp rending pains which lowered my manhood to the shrieking agony of a child. And there, alone beside me, sat the faithful one who had followed me over the seas — true woman, true wife ! Thank Heaven — it was her thought as well as mine — thank Heaven ! that she was my wife now ; that it was hers to fold her cool hands round my brow, to gather me to her bosom as a mother would a siok child. Every form and phase of tenderest love — sister-love, mother-love, wife-love — seemed mingled into one, and poured out upon me from the heart of my Lilias. I knew now — would that every man on earth knew ! — how infinite a faithful woman's love can be ! Stronger and stronger grew these torturing pains, until my senses became dim.

I scarce felt even the winding arms of my Lilias, until they were removed, and I per ceived bending over me the German mystic. He spoke, I thought, of some rare drug which would surely lull my sufferings. " It is very fearful — this new power ! " answered Lilias. I heard her voice, every tone. Those around her spoke a few words. I only knew their effect by her convulsive shudder and smothered cry ; but soon after she said — " Herr Foerster, you are a good man ; I trust you with my life — more than my life, remember ! Let my husband try this. and God be merciful to him and me 1 " The German stooped down. To my distempered fancy, his eyes appeared to flame like demons', and his tongue to hiss in her ear — " You have no fear ? " " No ! " she replied. " It is well — and you are wise ! Two hours more of these tortures, and — " I heard no more ; but as he went away I felt Lilias shiver ; she drew me closer to her, and kissed passionately my lips and eyes.

I strove to speak, but my mind would not con centrate itself so as to frame one intelligible sentence. The German came back. He knelt before me, and I perceived a faint fragrance that diffused itself on the air I breathed. One struggle I made to convince myself that all was real — that I was clasped safe in my wife's arms — and then I gave myself to the delicious numbness which stole over me. My eyes closed ; the gathering lights that flitted before them disap peared : it was as though some spirit hand were folding over sight and hearing a dim, gray veil. A few times I felt my heart booming up and down, like a creature of life ; I seemed almost to behold it beating in my bosom — its great pulses heaving continually louder and higher, like waves of the sea ; and once or twice I distinguished those rending pains — pains darting lightning-like — pains that could be seen as well as felt : for in this strange spell all the various senses seemed to be confounded and mingled.

Then all grew peace. Closer and closer gathered over me the solemn veil : one by one my heart's leaping pulses sank lower and lower — as if dull fingers pressed them into stillness. All pain ceased, and with it all perception of being. I faintly stirred my hand, to convince myself of my bodily existence. I tried to make my lips express the thoughts which dwelt in my still conscious mind. " I sleep, Lilias, I sleep ! " It sounded less like my own human voice than that of a spirit ; but it was answered. " Yes, my own dearest, you will sleep soon." Then all the outward world became dim — the sounds and sights about me fading as earth-landscapes fade before one who voyages through the air, rising higher and higher, until cities, towers, and trees — are all an undistinguishable mass. Thus I seemed to soar out of my bodily organs into a new existence.