Ishmael; Or, In the Depths Part 6

"And now I put myself in your hands, Hannah! Direct me as you think best; I will obey you. What shall I do?"

"See Nora no more; from this day absent yourself from our house."

He turned pale as death, reeled, and supported himself against the trunk of a friendly tree.

Hannah looked at him, and from the bottom of her heart she pitied him; for she knew what love was--loving Reuben.

"Mr. Brudenell," she said, "do not take this to heart so much: why should you, indeed, when you know that your fate is in your own hands?

You are master of your own destiny, and no man who is so should give way to despondency. The alternative before you is simply this: to cease to visit Nora, or to marry her. To do the first you must sacrifice your love, to do the last you must sacrifice your pride. Now choose between the courses of action! Gratify your love or your pride, as you see fit, and cheerfully pay down the price! This seems to me to be the only manly, the only rational, course."

"Oh, Hannah, Hannah, you do not understand! you do not!" he cried in a voice full of anguish.

"Yes, I do; I know how hard it would be to you in either case. On the one hand, what a cruel wrench it will give your heart to tear yourself from Nora--"

"Yes, yes; oh, Heaven, yes!"

"And, on the other hand, I know what an awful sacrifice you would make in marrying her--"

"It is not that! Oh, do me justice! I should not think it a sacrifice!

She is too good for me! Oh, Hannah, it is not that which hinders!"

"It is the thought of your mother and sisters, perhaps; but surely if they love you, as I am certain they do, and if they see your happiness depends upon this marriage--in time they will yield!"

"It is not my family either, Hannah! Do you think that I would sacrifice my peace--or hers--to the unreasonable pride of my family? No, Hannah, no!"

"Then what is it? What stands in the way of your offering your hand to her to whom you have given your heart?"

"Hannah, I cannot tell you! Oh, Hannah, I feel that I have been very wrong, criminal even! But I acted blindly; you have opened my eyes, and now I see I must visit your house no more; how much it costs me to say this--to do this--you can never know!"

He wiped the perspiration from his pale brow, and, after a few moments given to the effort of composing himself, he asked:

"Shall we go on now?"

She nodded a.s.sent and they walked onward.

"Hannah," he said, as they went along, "I have one deplorable weakness."

She looked up suddenly, fearing to hear the confession of some fatal vice.

He continued:

"It is the propensity to please others, whether by doing so I act well or ill!"

"Mr. Brudenell!" exclaimed Hannah, in a shocked voice.

"Yes, the pain I feel in seeing others suffer, the delight I have in seeing them enjoy, often leads--leads me to sacrifice not only my own personal interests, but the principles of truth and justice!"

"Oh, Mr. Brudenell!"

"It is so, Hannah! And one signal instance of such a sacrifice at once of myself and of the right has loaded my life with endless regret!

However, I am ungenerous to say this; for a gift once given, even if it is of that which one holds most precious in the world, should be forgotten or at least not be grudged by the giver! Ah, Hannah--" He stopped abruptly.

"Mr. Brudenell, you will excuse me for saying that I agree with you in your reproach of yourself. That trait of which you speak is a weakness which should be cured. I am but a poor country girl. But I have seen enough to know that sensitive and sympathizing natures like your own are always at the mercy of all around them. The honest and the generous take no advantage of such; but the selfish and the calculating make a prey of them! You call this weakness a propensity to please others! Mr.

Brudenell, seek to please the Lord and He will give you strength to resist the spoilers," said Hannah gravely.

"Too late, too late, at least as far as this life is concerned, for I am ruined, Hannah!"

"Ruined! Mr. Brudenell!"

"Ruined, Hannah!"

"Good Heaven! I hope you have not endorsed for anyone to the whole extent of your fortune?"

"Ha, ha, ha! You make me laugh, Hannah! laugh in the very face of ruin, to think that you should consider loss of fortune a subject of such eternal regret as I told you my life was loaded with!"

"Oh, Mr. Brudenell, I have known you from childhood! I hope, I hope you haven't gambled or--"

"Thank Heaven, no, Hannah! I have never gambled, nor drank, nor--in fact, done anything of the sort!"

"You have not endorsed for anyone, nor gambled, nor drank, nor anything of that sort, and yet you are ruined!"

"Ruined and wretched, Hannah! I do not exaggerate in saying so!"

"And yet you looked so happy!"

"Gra.s.ses grow and flowers bloom above burning volcanoes, Hannah."

"Ah, Mr. Brudenell, what is the nature of this ruin then? Tell me! I am your sincere friend, and I am older than you; perhaps I could counsel you."

"It is past counsel, Hannah."

"What is it then?"

"I cannot tell you except this! that the fatality of which I speak is the only reason why I do not overstep the boundary of conventional rank and marry Nora! Why I do not marry anybody! Hus.h.!.+ here we are at the house."

Very stately and beautiful looked the mansion with its walls of white free-stone and its porticos of white marble, gleaming through its groves upon the top of the hill.

When they reached it Hannah turned to go around to the servants' door, but Mr. Brudenell called to her, saying:

"This way! this way, Hannah!" and conducted her up the marble steps to the visitors' entrance.

He preceded her into the drawing-room, a s.p.a.cious apartment now in its simple summer dress of straw matting, linen covers, and lace curtains.

Mrs. Brudenell and the two young ladies, all in white muslin morning dresses, were gathered around a marble table in the recess of the back bay window, looking over newspapers.

On seeing the visitor who accompanied her son, Mrs. Brudenell arose with a look of haughty surprise.

"You wished to see Hannah Worth, I believe, mother, and here she is,"

said Herman.