Our child; a tale of passion

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Chapter I

“ Lo! as hid seed shoots after rainless years.

So good and evil, pain and pleasures, hates And loves, and all dead deeds come forth again. Bearing bright leaves or dark, sweet fruit or sour.”

Slowly step by step let us climb a mountain path in Switzerland, pausing now and then in our ascent to gaze down upon the valleys, houses, fields, and streams below. In the brightness of the sunlight our eyes become weary with beholding, and the mind is surfeited with beauty. After many hours of tedious climbing we reach its utmost height. Then we are permitted to behold what.^ An old two-story wooden house, picturesque in its beauty, with its wild and uncultivated surroundings. Around it weeds grow in great abundance ; from their midst wild flowers clamber up and peep into the windows of the old house, and seem to smile and shake their pretty little petals back in defiance at the rocks and weeds, as much as to say, “ You cannot keep us

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down ! ” Then they turn slowly around and gaze with wonder into a room, at a man who sits writing at a curious little desk very near one of the windows, while a large, beautiful white dog of some peculiar breed reclines at his feet on a rare and valuable rug. The interior of this dwelling was something wonderful. It looked more like an eastern harem than anything else, where grace and loveliness alone may dwell. Couches of all shapes and of the most exquisite material and coloring were scattered about in two large rooms, the only ones on the lower floor of the house. Silk hangings of a dark crimson hue divided the apartments. The covering and rugs on the floor, together with the chairs, pictures and ornaments, were such as only kings and princes adorn their homes with. A veritable little Eden was Prince dsi Monti Serrati’s abode on the mountain.

At last he becomes weary of his writing and throwing down his pen with a discontented frown on his pale brow, he stoops over and gently pats the dog on the head and in a low, deep and extremely winning voice, says : “ Come, Don, let us go and wander over the rocks and through the weeds, and linger around in spots till the sun sets. Then it will be time for our dinner. After that we shall retire and another day will have ended for us.

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Ha, ha, old fellow, what say you : will you go ? All this was said in good English, though the youngprince was an Italian.

Don licked the hand that so gently caressed him and in another moment was on his feet, raising his large, intelligent pink eyes to his master s face : he barked quite gaily, then turned and walked toward an open door and ran out into the soft sweet air.

Prince dsi Monti Serrati followed, with steps steady and firm. He had a magnificent figure, standing nearly six feet ; underneath his pale brow were eyes of midnight darkness, full of strong passion, yet with an occasional roguish glance in them he did not care to hide.

This prince was a strange man and knew not himself. He had traveled from country to country, seeing nearly all nations and all kinds of people, from the savage African to the more cultivated Englishman, and now we find him the owner and occupant of the old house upon the summit of one of the highest mountains in Switzerland. He followed Don with that unmistakable step of a man who would go straight at a difficulty and master it too. Over rocks he went and old stumps of trees that from time to time had been ruthlessly torn up by the storms that swept over the mountain-top. There are a few natures in this world that are indefin-

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able, and Prince dsi Monti Serrati possessed a nature of this kind ; however, his mother had often said of him in her native tongue, when he was yet very young, Natura lo fece ; e poi ruppe la stampa,” which perhaps was very true.

So the hours passed on, and at last becoming tired of walking, he found a huge flat rock, and drawing Don close up to his side sat down — raising his eyes toward heaven he murmured, “ Tell me, Don, if you can, whether there is a God above us. Am I a skeptic, I wonder? Many is the time I have passionately denied the reality of the unseen world ; yet, it is quite impossible, after all, for me to resist its wonderful power. W e all live in the memories of the past and the anticipations of the future quite as much as in the visible matter-offact world of to-day. Don't we, old fellow ? " And the dog gazed upon his master with a smile in his eyes and bowed his head as much as to say, “ I would answer you if I only could.”

“ I have heard these lines many a time,” continued the prince. And oh ! how true they are.”

" This is the state of man — to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms And bears his blushing honors thick upon him ;

* “ Nature made him, and then broke the mould/*

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The third day comes a frost, a killing frost And — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root.

And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,

Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory ;

But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me, and now left me Weary- . ”

“ Oh ! so weary and wretched,” cried he. “ I have been nearly all over the world in search of happiness and as yet I have not found it. Money I have in abundance, but it cannot buy that peace of mind I long for. Ah ! why was I born with such a nature as this ? ” he cried in deep passion.

The dog did not look at the prince in amazement, as one might naturally suppose, but with genuine sympathy in his eyes, for scenes such as these he was accustomed to.

Suddenly he threw his arm about the faithful animal’s neck and, burying his face in Don’s soft, white coat, cried, “ I am tired of this place already though I have not been here three months. Yet, I long for a new clime, new faces and scenes.”

When he lifted his face from out of Don’s silky hair, a voice as soft and sweet as a chime of silvery bells, yet full of pathos, greeted his ears, and hardly before these words died on the evening air, “ Ah !

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prince, and has it come to this ? ” he was upon his feet and in the twilight hour he wound his arm about a tiny waist and for a second let his lips rest on the loveliest mouth in all Europe. Such is man.

At one moment he is plunged into the deepest despondency, at the next he is reaching out after pleasure in the wildest worldly chase, and to natures such as Prince dsi Monti Serrati s pleasure is like a laugh that begins with joy and ends in reckless weeping — just at this moment, however, he forgot all else in the world save the beautiful woman he held so close to his breast. “ Millicent, my darling," he murmured in tones that made every nerve in her body tingle with joy. “ How kind of you to come out to meet me ; say, has this day seemed long in the little house without my presence ? "

“ Yes, very, very long,’’ she replied, while tears gathered in her dark blue eyes.

“ Then you are never so happy as when I am with you, my beautiful one ? " Almost affrighted by the thought that his mind was in a measure wandering away from her, she suddenly threw her arms about his neck, and whispered so low and sadly it actually brought tears to the somewhat vacillating prince’s eyes. “ If you should go away some day and never return it would break my heart/’

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“ Millicent, what made you think of such a thing as my going away ? Forsake you, my own love, my angel ? " And the prince honestly thought just at that moment there was no such word as forsake in the English language, and if there was what was Millicent using it for ? “ Forsake !

Oh my God ! ” he cried as she gently pushed him away from her. “ That is a terrible word ! "

“ Forgive me, my child, I should never have spoken it,” and a smile dangerous as it was fascinating lit up his countenance as he continued, “ Tell me pray why such strange thoughts and presentments so persistently run through your brain ? ” “ Those elements of woe were born with human nature. Why question them, prince ? ”

“ Well, I will not,” he replied as he drew her closer up to his side — for a moment he watched the fire of love burning in her upturned eyes with a peculiar kind of selfish satisfaction; he knew it was all his own and would remain so even throughout eternity. She was purity itself, tender and noble in nature, strong in feeling, yet resolute and daring. The affection she bore Prince dsi Monti Serrati was no common every-day love, for Millicent’s heart was true and unchanging. And when at last he placed his arm about her neck and drew her head down upon his breast, the words that fell

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from his lips reassured her and set her heart at rest. The tiny waves of doubt soon passed from her mind and a smile sweet as it was pure illumined her countenance. And the stars looked down upon a pair of God’s fairest creatures. D]d they look with pity ? Who can answer ? One hour of intense happiness they spent together in the Tresh delicious evening air. Many a man has given a fortune, his soul, his all for a divine hour even like this one. In fact glimpses of heaven are caught in just such hours as these. Not a cloud dimmed the beauty of the sky, when at last they concluded to go back to the old house, Don walking on slowly by Millicent’s side — watching closely her every movement. The candles were lighted and everything looked so cheerful in the house when they entered that the prince smiled and seemed well pleased as he gazed upon a table that stood in the middle of the apartment laden with the good things that promote man’s health. A servant stood at the head of the table. His complexion was even darker than his master’s and he was generously displaying a set of teeth any man under the sun might have envied. He also spoke a few soft words in Italian and showed by his close attention he favored both the prince and Millicent,

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II So the mad hours flew by filled with pleasure and excitement

It was nearly midnight when the prince laid his hand on Millicent’s shoulder, and said, as they stood together by a window looking out, “ Let us bid farewell to this perfect night with a song, my darling.” Your will is mine,” replied she in the sweetest of tones. After throwing open the windows and doors, he blew out the candles. And for a time all nature seemed to hold its breath and listen to the voices of these two blended together in harmonious melody. This was a night never to be forgotten. We all know the flowers only bloom to fade: and pleasures so intense perish even as the flowers.

Chapter II

** It was a dreadful moment; not the tears The lingering, lasting misery of years,

The curtain rises again on a far different scene* It is morning and the prince s household, consisting of Millicent, one Italian male servant, an English maid and a pretty little Irish cook, are all life and bustle. The crimson curtains are pushed away back; exactly in the centre of the apartments reclines the prince in a great gilded arm chair, faultlessly attired in some fine material of a dark hue which becomes him well; his countenance, however, bears unmistakable signs of a sleepless night: his eyes are heavy and dull, his brow clouded, and when he speaks his voice is thick and disagreeable. What a power there is in the faculty of speech ! It can assume any character, express all the passions and control all hearts. It can charm with the sweet accents of love, and frighten with the stern ones of wrath. And for the first time since

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occupying the old house on the mountain he has assumed a masterful way and an extremely unpleasant tone.

For what reason, none of the inmates of the house can tell. Therefore it alarms them. Paolo, the Italian domestic, stood close by the prince s side, rolling his eyes up and down in terror, awaiting that strange individual’s commands and wishing for all the world he might easily slip through a hole in the floor and be lost to the prince’s sight. Nettie, the English maid, stood a little in the background, but not far from Paolo, motioning with desperate energy to Millicent (who had taken a stand by one of the windows, with a very sore heart) to come and quiet their wrathful master, as though she had perfect confidence in her power over him.

Maggie, the pretty, rosy faced cook, was the least unconcerned of them all. She stood surveying the whole scene with her hands on her hips and a smile in her eyes of Irish blue. The prince gazed for an instant sternly and darkly on them all, then closed his eyes, laid his head back on the soft cushions of the chair and gave two audible sighs. “ Ah’! prince, is it ill that you are ? ” spoke up Maggie, with a rippling laugh and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

This was more than he could endure in his bad

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frame of mind; but before he possibly had time to open his lips to speak, Paolo put in in broken Italian, “ 111, of course he isJ' Then Nettie advanced slightly and in a spiritless voice, said:

“ Pray what can we do to hease your pain ? "

“ My God, Millicent,” shouted the prince, “ send them away, send them away, it is becoTming perfectly unbearable.’' She turned and spoke to them, and they immediately vanished from the room. Now that they were gone she softly glided up to his side, and placing her hand on his shoulder, said, while her eyes filled with a mist of tears.

“ Tell me, dear, what it is that makes you so irritable this morning. Is there anything I can do to please. you ? If so, I will gladly do it.”

“ No, Millicent, there is nothing on God's earth that can please me this morning. I am tired of everything, and I am going away to Paris where

there is life and beauty and all that man ”

“Hold!” interrupted Millicent. “It can not be that you are going away, and alone ! ”

“ Yes, quite alone,” he replied, in a voice so cold that she turned as pale as death, as she again said, in tones of perfect dismay,

“ Going away without me? ”

“ Yes, without you, Millicent. There is no reason why I should take you everywhere I go.”

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“ Why, yes there is,'* said she, while great lumps of fear rose in her throat and nearly choked her utterance, “ for am I not the Princess dsi Monti Serrati ? ”

“ The Princess dsi Monti Serrati ! " he repeated, as he rose from his chair. Then he laughed outright as he said, “ I was not aware there waf a princess here."

“ Then who, or what am I, pray, if I am not your wife?" she cried, while her whole frame trembled and shook life a leaf in a storm.

He cruelly and sternly made her this answer: “You are beautiful Millicent Livingston, the daughter of an English dean, and not the Princess dsi Monti Serrati, as you have all this time supposed."

Such words as these, spoken by man many times, determine the course of conduct in their victim for a life-time. Do you know, my friends, that it takes only a slight word, either good or bad, from those whom we love to make a lasting impression upon so sensitive a thing as a human heart ?

Millicent seemed like one suddenly turned to stone — only her eyes, which had become coals of living fire, told the prince her heart had not ceased beating. The night before, so full of pleasure and i6

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intense love, now seemed like ages gone ; yet, Millicent knew it would be easier to stop the current of a mighty river than resist the hand of fate, and when she spoke at last her voice, naturally so full of richness, had changed its tone ; only a hoarse sound accompanied these words :

“ Who dares to say I am not the Princess dsi Monti Serrati ? Only four months ago I left my father s house to go with you to a little chapel in London. There we were wed, just at nightfall; from London we went to Paris, and there we stayed four weeks ; then came here ; and now you tell me I am not your wife. O ! what can it mean ! What can it mean ! she helplessly cried, as she fell down upon her knees before him.

For a moment he gazed upon her with something like pity in his dark eyes. Then, after a little, his expression hardened again, as he said,

“ Millicent, I thought I could always make you happy ; but I find that with my peculiar, changeable disposition I cannot, and I thought even yesterday that it might never be necessary for you to know that of which I am about to speak. But — ” and he paused, and looked anxiously into her now eager, questioning eyes, then continued — “ but the time has come. I can keep silent no longer. I am tired of the mountain and these old scenes, and

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they might continue on for years, and after all what would it amount to ? Only a more disastrous ending, and one that would come later in life for you. Then, again, every time I look into your eyes they warn me of the danger of this deception. Millicent, I will deal fairly and kindly by you ; half of all I possess on this earth shall be yours. You can take it and go back to England, and in a few years perhaps wed and be happy ; for our past deeds and indiscretions die away with time, and really you were not to blame for this either. Some one has said — and very truly, too I — ‘ Marriage is not ihe meeting of two presents. It is the union of two pasts.' Only one thing more, and I am done. Our marriage was simply a delusion. The priests and witnesses were only people of mine hired for the occasion. I loved you, Millicent, and never having been denied anything I wanted in my life, I was not going to be baffled in this, and I knew you would never consent to go away with me unless you supposed you were married, hence that deception ; and marriage at present is out of the question with me.”

“ It was a dreadful moment; not the tears,

The lingering, lasting misery of years Could match that minute’s anguish.”

i8

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She raised two lightly folded hands up to him in dumb agony. He moved closer to her, and then her sensitive delicacy shrank from the possibility that his cold, deceptive hands might touch her. Much had run along the roads of thought while he spoke — and now that he was done, and his voice was silent, a strange weakness passed over her. Was she going to faint! No, no, not yet! She must speak to him once again before she entirely lost her reason ; but how was she to do it, when her tongue utterly refused to move ? Only groans, deep and long, escaped her lips, which attracted the attention of Don, who all this time had been lying on a rug near the door, apparently fast asleep. Slowly he rose, shook his huge body once or twice, then he deliberately walked up to her side, sat down, and gazed with a kind of wonder, first up into the prince’s face, then upon Millicent’s, as though he would fain understand what it all meant.

“ Tut, tut,’" said the prince. “ Do not, I pray you, Millicent, take this thing so much to heart. It is not an unusual case at all."

As he finished speaking, Don turned his head and kissed Millicent’s cold, pale cheek. This sign of true affection from a dumb animal stirred again into life the blood in her veins ; winding her arms

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about Don's neck her head dropped in the midst of his long, silky hair, and before she realized it, the tears were flowing like rain from her eyes and her heart was nearly breaking with the sobs that rent her frame. Folding his arms behind him, the prince began to walk up and down the apartments like a madman.

“ O tears, tears ! ” he cried. “ Why is it a woman will always drown her grief in tears, while a man will — well, God only knows what ! " and here he paused, bent over her and called her name; but just at that moment Don began to show his teeth and growl like an angry lion. The prince started back in actual fear. But fright soon gave way to anger, and suddenly pointing quite fiercely at the animal, he said, “ For that, Don, I am going to shoot you before the sun sets this day.”

In an instant, as it were, Millicent was on her feet, and raising her beautiful, tear-stained face to him she fearlessly cried, “ Kill Don, Prince dsi Monti Serrati, and you kill me.”

She was magnificent in her intrepidity; and tall, strong and straight, now he stood, with folded arms, looking down upon her and her faithful friend Don in great astonishment.

Hitherto, Millicent had been sweetness and amiability, and this new daring element he had dis-

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covered in her nature at once puzzled and annoyed him exceedingly. In his thirty years he had seen much of women, but never one like Millicent. In beauty she was superior to them all. She was tall, slight and willowy in form, with a face oval in shape and mouth and chin exquisite in their moulding. Eyes large and beautiful in color, hair, dark even as the prince’s, though her complexion was very fair and clear. She was only twenty years of age, and while he had tasted much of life, she had seen very little of it, having always been guarded well by a good and noble father; and never till Prince dsi Monti Serrati crossed her path had she given her father one hour of pain. Four months before she ran away from her home in England to follow the man who stood looking down upon her now with a sensation he could not describe stirring in his heart. In a moment of thoughtlessness, he had given way to a great passion and temptation. He had deceived Millicent and as yet he had had no time to even regret it. But as he looked upon her and saw her in a measure fading out of his life a strange desire came over him to tell her something, he scarcely knew what. He truly loved this Millicent Livingston, though he at that time knew it not.

Rubbing her hands across her brow a few times

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as though to erase the whole cruel thing from her memory, she murmured, “ It has all come so suddenly and unexpectedly.”

“ That is nothing, Millicent; only the way of the world,” he responded, with a short, uneasy laugh.

A scorn she could not quench rose within her for him. Such tameness, she thought, after all the passionate love and intense pleasure they had both experienced; and still how could such a thing be possible ? Here was the prince in whom she had placed all her youthful trust about to forsake her — leave her perhaps all alone in the old house on the mountain. A pain such as she had never known darted through her heart and brain. Stretching her arms out toward him once more, she begged and implored him in pitiful tones not to abandon her, but spare her the disgrace and shield her from the thorny tongue of this unmerciful world. But with it all, he was unrelenting in his determination to go. At last a veil came before her vision and shut away the heartless prince from her sight, and with uplifted hands she cried, “ Is this all ? ” and fell forward at his feet a helpless human being.

Chapter III

The steel must pass through fire ere it can yield Fit instruments for mighty hands to wield.”

Three weeks passed rapidly by to the busy world, though to Maggie and Don in the old house the time dragged wearily enough. What changes three weeks can make in any heart or home ! For while this life lasts it will ever be that sorrow and disappointment will burst with unwarning darkness into the brightest homes aqd happiest hearts. After all what do we know.? Yet, we lift up our heads and say what we will do; but an unseen power,' most surely, directs our steps and guides our every motion. We oftentimes feeKt, in fact we do rebel against it all; but what good does it do us ? Here we are, and here we must remain till our time comes to inhabit another state.

Three long weary weeks Millicent tossed on a bed of illness, faithfully Maggie watched over her both night and day, and at last, at the expiration of the third week, she was rewarded for all her kindness and vigilant attention. Millicent opened

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her eyes and looked up into her eager face and faintly smiled.

“ Oh ! ” cried Maggie, out of the fullness of her heart. “ Thank God you can speak to me at last I and falling down upon lier knees by the bedside, she laughed and cried together like a pleased, excited child.

In all tenderness Millicent took one of her small, shapely hands and said: “Poor Maggie! I have made you a great deal of trouble, but tell me how long has he been gone ? (Meaning the prince.) “ Ah I my dear mistress, he went away soon after you fainted at his feet that fatal morning, now three weeks ago. Paolo and Nettie followed him on down the mountain-path, for they were afraid to stay here alone with Don and me. The prince, however, left Pet, the horse, behind for our use, and some day, when you are stronger, I will tell you my various experiences during your long and sorrowful illness.” ^

“ Then I have been lying here three weeks,” murmured Millicent, as she tried .to raise her head off the pillow, but it was a decided failure.

Not so fast, my sweet mistress,” laughed Maggie, as she laid her hand on Millicent’s head. “ Is it not enough for one day that you have spoken so long and intelligently ?

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“ Ah ! but, Maggie,’' Millicent continued, “ I can not help thinking how good you are, and how you stayed by me when all others forsook and fled.’’

“ Enough, enough,” said Maggie. “ I will tell you why I did it, sometime, but not now,” and bending slightly forward, she smoothed Millicent’s hair a few times in rather a caressing fashion. Then she turned and went about her work with renewed vigor and a song pleasing to hear in its cheerfulness.

Even the severest cuts heal in time, and Millicent’s intense illness . had removed the sharpest edge from her great sorrow. She awoke again into life a changed being. She was indeed changed in more ways than she knew, and a few days later, as she sat propped up in bed gazing out upon that nature once more whose beauties had been denied her so many weeks, she smiled ever so faintly; but after a little she turned sadly away from it all, and called to Maggie to bring her a hand glass that she might look upon her face once again.

Maggie started, turned pale, then produced one, after much hesitation, fearing the eflect the first glance might have upon her young mistress. Millicent eagerly took it from her trembling hand and held it up before her face. She looked thin and wan, there were dark lines under her beautiful