the purcell papers-2-第18章

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the　lady's　grief　was　so　violent；　that　without

great　effort　she　could　not　bring　herself

to　speak　calmly　at　all。　As　if　to　beguile

the　time；　the　good　dame　went　on　in　a

highly　communicative　strain　to　tell　me；

amongst　much　that　could　not　interest　me；

a　little　of　what　I　had　desired　to　hear。　I

discovered　that　the　grief　of　her　whom　I

had　come　to　visit　was　excited　by　the

sudden　death　of　a　little　boy；　her　only

child；　who　was　then　lying　dead　in　his

mother's　chamber。



'And　the　mother's　name？'　said　I；　inquiringly。



The　woman　looked　at　me　for　a　moment；

smiled；　and　shook　her　head　with　the　air　of

mingled　mystery　and　importance　which

seems　to　say；　'I　am　unfathomable。'　I

did　not　care　to　press　the　question；　though

I　suspected　that　much　of　her　apparent

reluctance　was　affected；　knowing　that　my

doubts　respecting　the　identity　of　the　person

whom　I　had　come　to　visit　must　soon

be　set　at　rest；　and　after　a　little　pause　the

worthy　Abigail　went　on　as　fluently　as

ever。　She　told　me　that　her　young

mistress　had　been；　for　the　time　she　had

been　with　herthat　was；　for　about　a　year

and　a　halfin　declining　health　and　spirits；

and　that　she　had　loved　her　little　child　to　a

degree　beyond　expressionso　devotedly

that　she　could　not；　in　all　probability；

survive　it　long。



While　she　was　running　on　in　this　way

the　bell　rang；　and　signing　me　to　follow；

she　opened　the　room　door；　but　stopped　in

the　hall；　and　taking　me　a　little　aside；　and

speaking　in　a　whisper；　she　told　me；　as　I

valued　the　life　of　the　poor　lady；　not　to　say

one　word　of　the　death　of　young　O'Mara。

I　nodded　acquiescence；　and　ascending　a

narrow　and　ill…constructed　staircase；　she

stopped　at　a　chamber　door　and　knocked。



'Come　in；'　said　a　gentle　voice　from

within；　and；　preceded　by　my　conductress；

I　entered　a　moderately…sized；　but　rather

gloomy　chamber。



There　was　but　one　living　form　within　it

it　was　the　light　and　graceful　figure　of　a

young　woman。　She　had　risen　as　I

entered　the　room；　but　owing　to　the

obscurity　of　the　apartment；　and　to　the

circumstance　that　her　face；　as　she　looked

towards　the　door；　was　turned　away　from

the　light；　which　found　its　way　in　dimly

through　the　narrow　windows；　I　could　not

instantly　recognise　the　features。



'You　do　not　remember　me；　sir？'　said　the

same　low；　mournful　voice。　'I　amI　WAS

Ellen　Heathcote。'



'I　do　remember　you；　my　poor　child；'

said　I；　taking　her　hand；　'I　do　remember

you　very　well。　Speak　to　me　frankly

speak　to　me　as　a　friend。　Whatever　I　can

do　or　say　for　you；　is　yours　already；　only

speak。'



'You　were　always　very　kind；　sir；　to

thoseto　those　that　WANTED　kindness。'



The　tears　were　almost　overflowing；　but

she　checked　them；　and　as　if　an　accession

of　fortitude　had　followed　the　momentary

weakness；　she　continued；　in　a　subdued　but

firm　tone；　to　tell　me　briefly　the

circumstances　of　her　marriage　with　O'Mara。

When　she　had　concluded　the　recital；

she　paused　for　a　moment；　and　I　asked

again：



'Can　I　aid　you　in　any　wayby　advice

or　otherwise？'



'I　wish；　sir；　to　tell　you　all　I　have　been

thinking　about；'　she　continued。　'I　am

sure；　sir；　that　Master　Richard　loved　me

onceI　am　sure　he　did　not　think　to

deceive　me；　but　there　were　bad；　hard…

hearted　people　about　him；　and　his　family

were　all　rich　and　high；　and　I　am　sure　he

wishes　NOW　that　he　had　never；　never　seen

me。　Well；　sir；　it　is　not　in　my　heart　to　blame

him。　What　was　_I_　that　I　should　look　at

him？an　ignorant；　poor；　country　girl

and　he　so　high　and　great；　and　so　beautiful。

The　blame　was　all　mineit　was　all　my

fault；　I　could　not　think　or　hope　he　would

care　for　me　more　than　a　little　time。　Well；

sir；　I　thought　over　and　over　again　that

since　his　love　was　gone　from　me　for　ever；

I　should　not　stand　in　his　way；　and　hinder

whatever　great　thing　his　family　wished　for

him。　So　I　thought　often　and　often　to　write

him　a　letter　to　get　the　marriage　broken；

and　to　send　me　home；　but　for　one　reason；

I　would　have　done　it　long　ago：　there　was

a　little　child；　his　and　minethe　dearest；

the　loveliest。'　She　could　not　go　on　for　a

minute　or　two。　'The　little　child　that　is

lying　there；　on　that　bed；　but　it　is　dead

and　gone；　and　there　is　no　reason　NOW　why

I　should　delay　any　more　about　it。'



She　put　her　hand　into　her　breast；　and

took　out　a　letter；　which　she　opened。　She

put　it　into　my　hands。　It　ran　thus：



　　　　　'DEAR　MASTER　RICHARD；

　　　'My　little　child　is　dead；　and　your

happiness　is　all　I　care　about　now。　Your

marriage　with　me　is　displeasing　to　your

family；　and　I　would　be　a　burden　to　you；

and　in　your　way　in　the　fine　places；　and

among　the　great　friends　where　you　must

be。　You　ought；　therefore；　to　break　the

marriage；　and　I　will　sign　whatever　YOU

wish；　or　your　family。　I　will　never　try

to　blame　you；　Master　Richarddo　not

think　itfor　I　never　deserved　your

love；　and　must　not　complain　now　that

I　have　lost　it；　but　I　will　always　pray

for　you；　and　be　thinking　of　you　while

I　live。'



While　I　read　this　letter；　I　was　satisfied

that　so　far　from　adding　to　the　poor

girl's　grief；　a　full　disclosure　of　what　had

happened　would；　on　the　contrary；　mitigate

her　sorrow；　and　deprive　it　of　its　sharpest

sting。



'Ellen；'　said　I　solemnly；　'Richard

O'Mara　was　never　unfaithful　to　you；　he

is　now　where　human　reproach　can　reach

him　no　more。'



As　I　said　this；　the　hectic　flush　upon　her

cheek　gave　place　to　a　paleness　so　deadly；

that　I　almost　thought　she　would　drop　lifeless

upon　the　spot。



'Is　heis　he　dead；　then？'　said　she；

wildly。



I　took　her　hand　in　mine；　and　told　her

the　sad　story　as　best　I　could。　She　listened

with　a　calmness　which　appeared　almost

unnatural；　until　I　had　finished　the　mournful

narration。　She　then　arose；　and　going　to

the　bedside；　she　drew　the　curtain　and　gazed

silently　and　fixedly　on　the　quiet　face　of　the

child：　but　the　feelings　which　swelled　at

her　heart　could　not　be　suppressed；　the

tears　gushed　forth；　and　sobbing　as　if　her

heart　would　break；　she　leant　over　the　bed

and　took　the　dead　child　in　her　arms。



She　wept　and　kissed　it；　and　kissed　it　and

wept　again；　in　grief　so　passionate；　so

heartrending；　as　to　draw　bitter　tears　from

my　eyes。　I　said　what　little　I　could　to

calm　herto　have　sought　to　do　more

would　have　been　a　mockery；　and　observing

that　the　darkness　had　closed　in；　I

took　my　leave　and　departed；　being

favoured　with　the　services　of　my　former

guide。



I　expected　to　have　been　soon　called

upon　again　to　visit　the　poor　girl；　but

the　Lodge　lay　beyond　the　boundary　of　my

parish；　and　I　felt　a　reluctance　to　trespass

upon　the　precincts　of　my　brother　minister；

and　a　certain　degree　of　hesitation　in　intruding

upon　one　whose　situation　was　so

very　peculiar；　and　who　would；　I　had　no

doubt；　feel　no　scruple　in　requesting　my

attendance　if　she　desired　it。



A　month；　however；　passed　away；　and　I

did　not　hear　anything　of　Ellen。　I　called

at　the　Lodge；　and　to　my　inquiries　they

answered　that　she　was　very　much　worse

in　health；　and　that　since　the　death　of　the

child　she　had　been　sinking　fast；　and　so

weak　that　she　had　been　chiefly　confined

to　her　bed。　I　sent　frequently　to　inquire；

and　often　called　myself；　and　all　that　I

heard　convinced　me　that　she　was　rapidly

sinking　into　the　grave。



Late　one　night　I　was　summoned　from

my　rest；　by　a　visit　from　the　person　who

had　upon　the　former　occasion　acted　as

my　guide；　he　had　come　to　summon　me　to

the　death…bed　of　her　whom　I　had　then

attended。　With　all　celerity　I　made　my

preparations；　and；　not　without　considerable

difficulty　and　some　danger；　we　made　a

rapid　night…ride　to　the　Lodge；　a　distance

of　five　miles　at　least。　We　arrived　safely；

and　in　a　very　short　timebut　too　late。



I　stood　by　the　bed　upon　which　lay　the

once　beautiful　form　of　Ellen　Heathcote。

The　brief　but　sorrowful　trial　was　past

the　desolate　mourner　was　gone　to　that

land　where　the　pangs　of　grief；　the　tumults

of　pass