CHAPTER X

_A Vision_

When the first violence of this paroxysm of sorrow abated, Camilla again strove to pray, and found that nothing so much stilled her. Yet, her faculties confused, hurried, and in anguish, permitted little more than incoherent e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns. Again she sighed for her Father; again the spirit of his instructions recurred, and she enquired who was the clergyman of the parish, and if he would be humane enough to come and pray by one who had no claim upon him as a parishioner.

Peggy said he was a very good gentleman, and never refused even the poorest person, that begged his attendance.

'O go to him, then,' cried she, 'directly! Tell him a sick and helpless stranger implores that he will read to her the prayers for the dying!...

Should I yet live ... they will compose and make me better;--if not ...

they will give me courage for my quick exit.'

Peggy went forth, and she lay her beating head upon the pillow, and endeavoured to quiet her nerves for the sacred ceremony she demanded.

It was dark, and she was alone; the corpse she had just quitted seemed still bleeding in full view. She closed her eyes, but still saw it; she opened them, but it was always there. She felt nearly stiff with horrour, chilled, frozen, with speechless apprehension.

A slumber, feverish nearly to delirium, at length surprised her hara.s.sed faculties; but not to afford them rest. Death, in a visible figure, ghastly, pallid, severe, appeared before her, and with its hand, sharp and forked, struck abruptly upon her breast. She screamed--but it was heavy as cold, and she could not remove it. She trembled; she shrunk from its touch; but it had iced her heart-strings. Every vein was congealed; every stiffened limb stretched to its full length, was hard as marble: and when again she made a feeble effort to rid her oppressed lungs of the dire weight that had fallen upon them, a voice hollow, deep, and distant, dreadfully pierced her ear, calling out: 'Thou hast but thy own wish! Rejoice, thou murmurer, for thou diest!' Clearer, shriller, another voice quick vibrated in the air: 'Whither goest thou,'

it cried, 'and whence comest thou?'

A voice from within, over which she thought she had no controul, though it seemed issuing from her vitals, low, hoa.r.s.e, and tremulous, answered, 'Whither I go, let me rest! Whence I come from let me not look back!

Those who gave me birth, I have deserted; my life, my vital powers I have rejected.' Quick then another voice a.s.sailed her, so near, so loud, so terrible ... she shrieked at its horrible sound. 'Prematurely,' it cried, 'thou art come, uncalled, unbidden; thy task unfulfilled, thy peace unearned. Follow, follow me! the Records of Eternity are opened.

Come! write with thy own hand thy claims, thy merits to mercy!' A repelling self-accusation instantaneously overwhelmed her. 'O, no! no!

no!' she exclaimed, 'let me not sign my own miserable insufficiency!' In vain was her appeal. A force unseen, yet irresistible, impelled her forward. She saw the immense volumes of Eternity, and her own hand involuntarily grasped a pen of iron, and with a velocity uncontroulable wrote these words: 'Without resignation, I have prayed for death: from impatience of displeasure, I have desired annihilation: to dry my own eyes, I have left ... pitiless, selfish, unnatural!... a Father the most indulgent, a Mother almost idolizing, to weep out their's!' Her head would have sunk upon the guilty characters; but her eye-lids refused to close, and kept them glaring before her. They became, then, illuminated with burning sulphur. She looked another way; but they partook of the same motion; she cast her eyes upwards, but she saw the characters still; she turned from side to side; but they were always her object. Loud again sounded the same direful voice: 'These are thy deserts; write now thy claims:--and next,--and quick,--turn over the immortal leaves, and read thy doom....' 'Oh, no!' she cried, 'Oh, no!... O, let me yet return! O, Earth, with all thy sorrows, take, take me once again, that better I may learn to work my way to that last harbour, which rejecting the criminal repiner, opens its soft bosom to the firm, though supplicating sufferer!' In vain again she called;--pleaded, knelt, wept in vain. The time, she found, was past; she had slighted it while in her power; it would return to her no more; and a thousand voices at once, with awful vibration, answered aloud to every prayer, 'Death was thy own desire!' Again, unlicensed by her will, her hand seized the iron instrument. The book was open that demanded her claims. She wrote with difficulty ... but saw that her pen made no mark!

She looked upon the page, when she thought she had finished, ... but the paper was blank!... Voices then, by hundreds, by thousands, by millions, from side to side, above, below, around, called out, echoed and re-echoed, 'Turn over, turn over ... and read thy eternal doom!' In the same instant, the leaf, untouched, burst open ... and ... she awoke.

But in a trepidation so violent, the bed shook under her, the cold sweat, in large drops, fell from her forehead, and her heart still seemed labouring under the adamantine pressure of the inflexibly cold grasp of death. So exalted was her imagination, so confused were all her thinking faculties, that she stared with wild doubt whether then, or whether now, what she experienced were a dream.

In this suspensive state, fearing to call, to move, or almost to breathe, she remained, in perfect stillness, and in the dark, till little Peggy crept softly into the chamber.

Certain then of her situation, 'This has been,' she cried, 'only a vision--but my conscience has abetted it, and I cannot shake it off.'

When she became calmer, and further recollected herself, she anxiously enquired if the clergyman would not come.

Peggy, hesitatingly, acknowledged he had not been sent for; her mistress had imagined the request proceeded from a disturbance of mind, owing to the sight of the corpse, and said she was sure, after a little sleep, it would be forgotten.

'Alas!' said Camilla, disappointed, 'it is more necessary than ever! my senses are wandering; I seem hovering between life and death--Ah! let not my own fearful fancies absorb this hour of change, which religious rites should consecrate!'

She then told Peggy to plead for her to her mistress, and a.s.sure her that nothing else, after the dreadful shock she had received, could still her mind.

Mrs. Marl, not long after came into the room herself; and enquiring how she did, said, if she was really bent upon such a melancholy thing, the clergyman had luckily just called, and would read the service to her directly, if it would give her any comfort.

'O, great and infinite comfort!' she cried, and begged he might come immediately, and read to her the prayer for those of whom there is but small hope of recovery. She would have risen, that she might kneel; but her limbs would not second her desire, and she was obliged to lie still upon the outside of the bed. Peggy drew the curtains, to shade her eyes, as a candle was brought into the room; but when she heard Mrs.

Marl say: 'Come in, Sir,'--and 'here's the prayer-book;' overpowered with tender recollection of her Father, to whom such offices were frequent, she burst into an agony of tears, and hid her face upon the pillow.

She soon, however, recovered, and the solemnity of the preparation overawed her sorrow. Mrs. Marl placed the light as far as possible from the bed, and when Camilla waved her hand in token of being ready, said, 'Now, Sir, if you please.'

He complied, though not immediately; but no sooner had he begun, no sooner devoutly, yet tremblingly, p.r.o.nounced, _O Father of Mercies!_ than a faint scream issued from the bed.--

He stopt; but she did not speak; and after a short pause, he resumed: but not a second sentence was p.r.o.nounced when she feebly e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, 'Ah heaven!' and the book fell from his hands.

She strove to raise her head; but could not; she opened, however, the side curtain, to look out; he advanced, at the same moment, to the foot of the bed ... fixed his eyes upon her face, and in a voice that seemed to come from his soul, exclaimed, 'Camilla!'

With a mental emotion that, for an instant, restored her strength, she drew again the curtain, covered up her face, and sobbed even audibly, while the words, 'O Edgar!' vainly sought vent.

He attempted not to unclose the curtain she had drawn, but with a deep groan, dropping upon his knees on the outside, cried, 'Great G.o.d!' but checking himself, hastily arose, and motioning to Mrs. Marl and to Peggy, to move out of hearing, said, through the curtain; 'O Camilla!

what dire calamity has brought this about?--speak, I implore!--why are you here?--why alone? speak! speak!'

He heard she was weeping, but received no answer, and with energy next to torture exclaimed; 'Refuse not to trust me!--recollect our long friendship--forgive--forget its alienation!--By all you have ever valued--by all your wonted generosity--I call--I appeal.... Camilla!

Camilla!--your silence rends my soul!'

Camilla had no utterance, yet could not resist this urgency, and gently through the opening of the curtain, put forth her feeble hand.

He seemed affected to agony; he held it between each of his own, and while softly he uttered, 'O ever--unchangeably generous Camilla!' she felt it moistened with his tears.

Too weak for the new sensation this excited, she drew it away, and the violence of her emotion menacing an hysteric fit, Mrs. Marl came back to her, and wringing his hands as he looked around the room, he tore himself away.

CHAPTER XI

_Means to still Agitation_

Declining all aid, Camilla continued in the same position, wrapt up, coveting the dark, and stifling sighs that were rising into sobs, till she heard a gentle tap at her door.

She started, but still hid herself: Mrs. Marl was already gone; Peggy answered the summons, and returned to the bedside, with a note in her hand, begging Camilla to take it, as it came from the gentleman who was to have read the prayers.

'Is he then gone?' cried she, in a voice announcing deep disappointment.

'Yes, he went directly, my dear Lady.'

She threw the covering from her face, and with uplifted hands, exclaimed; 'O Edgar! could you see me thus ... and leave me?'--Yet eagerly seizing the letter, called for a candle, and strove to read it.

But the characters seemed double to her weak and dazzled eyes, and she was forced to relinquish the attempt. She pressed it to her bosom, and again covered herself up.

Something, nevertheless, like internal revival, once more, to her own unspeakable amazement, began fluttering at her breast. She had seen the beloved of her heart--dearer to her far than the life she thought herself resigning; seen him penetrated to anguish by her situation, awakened to the tenderest recollections, and upon her hand had dropt a testimony of his sensibility, that, dead as she had thought herself to the world, its views, its hopes, its cares, pa.s.sed straight to her heart--that wonderful repository of successive emotions, whence the expulsion of one species of interest but makes way for the entrance of another; and which vainly, while yet in mortal life, builds, even from hour to hour, upon any chasm of mortal solicitude.

While wrapt up in this reverie, poignantly agitating, yet undefinably soothing, upon the return of Edgar to England, and his astonishing appearance in her room, her attention was again aroused by another gentle tap at the door.

Peggy opened it, and left the room; but soon came back, to beg an answer to the note, for which the gentleman was waiting upon the stairs.

'Waiting?' she repeated, in extreme trepidation, 'is he not then gone?'

'No ma'am, only out of the room; he can't go away without the answer, he says.'

A sensation of pleasure was now so new to Camilla, as almost to be too potent either for her strength or her intellects. She doubted all around her, doubted what she heard, doubted even her existence. Edgar, could it be Edgar who was waiting for an answer?... who was under the same roof--who had been in the same room--who was now separated from her but by a thin wainscot?--'O no, no, no!' she cried, 'my senses all delude me! one vision after another beguiles my deranged imagination!' Yet she called Peggy to her again, again asked her if it were indeed true; and, bidding her once more bring the candle, the new spirit with which she was invigorated, enabled her to persevere in her efforts, till she made out the following lines; which were sealed, but not directed.

'The sorrow, the tumult of my soul, I attempt not to paint.--Forgive, O Camilla! an intrusion which circ.u.mstances made resistless. Deign to bury in kind oblivion all remembrance but of our early friendship--our intuitive attachment, our confidence, esteem, and happy juvenile intercourse; and under such auspices--animated as they are innocent--permit me to hasten Mrs.

Tyrold to this spot, or trust me--I conjure--with the mystery of this dreadful desolation--O Camilla!--by all the scenes that have pa.s.sed between us--by the impression indelible they have engraved upon my heart, wound not the most faithful of your friends by rejecting his services!