"Do you remain here any time?"

"I shall not leave until I see Mrs. Dexter on the safe side and in good hands," was replied.

"Have you heard any reason a.s.signed for this fearful attack?"

inquired Hendrickson.

Mrs. Florence shook her head.

Not caring to manifest an interest in Mrs. Dexter that might attract attention, or occasion comment, Hendrickson dropped the subject.

During the evening he threw himself in the way of the physician, and gathered all he desired to know from him. The report was so favorable that he determined to leave Newport by the midnight boat for New York and return home, which he accordingly did.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE season at Newport closed, and the summer birds of fashion flitted away. But Mrs. Dexter still remained, and in a feeble condition. It was as late as November before the physician in attendance would consent to her removal. She was then taken home, but so changed that even her nearest friends failed to recognize in her wan, sad, dreary face, anything of its old expression.

No man could have been kinder--no man could have lavished warmer attentions on another than were lavished on his wife by Mr. Dexter.

With love-like a.s.siduity, he sought to awaken her feelings to some interest in life; not tiring, though she remained as coldly pa.s.sive as marble. But she gave him back no sign. There was neither self-will, perverseness, nor antagonism, in this; but paralysis instead. Emotion had died.

It was Christmas before Mrs. Dexter left her room--and then she was so weak as to need a supporting arm. Tonics only were administered by her physician; but if they acted at all, it was so feebly that scarcely any good result appeared. The cause of weakness lay far beyond the reach of his medicines.

With the slow return of bodily strength and mental activity, was developed in the mind of Mrs. Dexter a feeling of repugnance to her husband that went on increasing. She did not struggle against this feeling, because she knew, by instinct, that all resistance would be vain. It was something over which she could not possibly have control; the stern protest of nature against an alliance unblessed by love.

One day, during mid-winter, her best friend, Mrs. De Lisle, in making one of her usual visits, found her sitting alone, and in tears. It was the first sign of struggling emotion that she had yet seen, and she gladly recognized the tokens of returning life.

"Showers for the heart," she said, almost smiling, as she kissed the pale invalid. "May the green gra.s.s and the sweet smiling violets soon appear."

Mrs. Dexter did not reply, but with unusual signs of feeling, hid her face in the garments of her friend.

"How are you to-day?" asked Mrs. De Lisle, after she had given time for emotion to subside.

"About as usual," was answered, and Mrs. Dexter looked with regaining calmness into her face.

"I have not seen you so disturbed for weeks," said Mrs. De Lisle.

"I have not felt so wild a strife in my soul for months," was answered. "Oh, that I could die! It was this prayer that unlocked the long closed fountain of tears."

"With G.o.d are the issues of life," said Mrs. De Lisle. "We must each of us wait His good time--patiently, hopefully, self-denyingly wait."

"I know! I know!" replied Mrs. Dexter. "But I cannot look along the way that lies before me without a shudder. The path is too difficult."

"You will surely receive strength."

"I would rather die!" A slight convulsion ran through her frame.

"Don't look into the future, dear young friend! Only to-day's duties are required; and strength ever comes with the duty."

"Not even G.o.d can give strength for mine," said Mrs. Dexter, almost wildly.

"Hush! hush! the thought is impious!" Mrs. De Lisle spoke in warning tones.

"Not impious, but true. G.o.d did not lay these heavy burdens on me.

My own hands placed them there. If I drag a pillar down upon myself, will G.o.d make my bones iron so that they shall not be broken? No, Mrs. De Lisle; there is only one hope for me, and that is in death; and I pray for it daily."

"You state the case too strongly," said Mrs. De Lisle. "G.o.d provides as well as provides. His providence determining what is best for us; and His providence counteracts our ignorance, self-will, or evil purposes, and saves us from the destruction we would blindly meet.

He never permits any act in His creatures, for which He does not provide an agency that turns the evil that would follow into good.

Your case is parallel to thousands. As a free woman, you took this most important step. G.o.d could not have prevented it without destroying that freedom which const.i.tutes your individuality, and makes you a recipient of life from Him. But He can sustain you in the duties and trials you have a.s.sumed; and He will do it, if you permit Him to subst.i.tute His divine strength for your human weakness. In all trial, affliction, calamity, suffering, there is a germ of angelic life. It is through much tribulation that the Kingdom of Heaven is gained. Some spirits require intenser fires for purification than others; and yours may be of this genus. G.o.d is the refiner and the purifier; and He will not suffer any of the gold and silver to be lost. Dear friend! do not shrink away from the ordeal."

"I am not strong enough yet." It was all the reply Mrs. Dexter made.

Her voice was mournful in the extreme.

"Wait for strength. As your day is, so shall it be."

Mrs. Dexter shook her head.

"What more can I say?" Mrs. De Lisle spoke almost sadly, for she could not see that her earnestly spoken counsel had wrought any good effect.

"Nothing! nothing! dear friend!" answered Mrs. Dexter, still very mournfully.

A little while she was silent; and seemed in debate with herself. At length she said--

"Dear Mrs. De Lisle! To you I have unveiled my heart more than to any other human being. And I am constrained to draw the veil a little farther aside. To speak will give relief; and as you are wiser, help may come. At Saratoga, I confided to you something on that most delicate of all subjects, my feelings towards my husband.

I have yet more to say! Shall I go farther in these painful, almost forbidden revelations?"

"Say on," was the answer, "I shall listen with no vain curiosity."

"I am conscious," Mrs. Dexter began, "of a new feeling towards my husband. I call it new, for, if only the fuller development of an old impression, it has all the vividness of a new-born emotion.

Before my illness, I saw many things in him to which I could attach myself; and I was successful, in a great measure, in depressing what was repellant, and in magnifying the attractive. But now I seem to have been gifted with a faculty of sight that enables me to look through the surface as if it were only transparent gla.s.s; and I see qualities, dispositions, affections, and tendencies, against which all my soul revolts. I do not say that they are evil; but they are all of the earth earthy. Nor do I claim to be purer and better than he is--only so different, that I prefer death to union. It is in vain to struggle against my feelings, and I have ceased to struggle."

"You are still weak in body and mind," answered Mrs. De Lisle. "All the pulses of returning life are feeble. Do not attempt this struggle now."

"It must be now, or never," was returned. "The current is bearing me away. A little while, and the most agonizing strife with wave and tempest will prove of no avail."

"Look aloft, dear friend! Look aloft!" said Mrs. De Lisle. "Do not listen to the maddening dash of waters below, nor gaze at the shuddering bark; but upwards, upwards, through cloud-rifts, into heaven!"

"I have tried to look upwards--I _have_ looked upwards--but the sight of heaven only makes earth more terrible by contrast."

"Who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb?" asked Mrs. De Lisle, in a deep, earnest voice. A pause, and then--"They who have come up through great tribulation! Think of this, dear friend. Heaven may be beautiful in your eyes, but the way to heaven is by earthly paths. You cannot get there, except by the way of duty; and your duty is not to turn away from, but to your husband, in the fulfillment of your marriage vows--to the letter. I say nothing of the spirit, but the letter of this law you must keep.

Mr. Dexter is not an evil-minded man. He is a good citizen, and desires to be a good husband. His life, to the world, is irreproachable. The want of harmony in taste, feeling and character, is no reason for disseverance. You cannot leave him, and be guiltless in the eyes of G.o.d or man."

"I did not speak of leaving him," said Mrs. Dexter, looking up strangely into the face of Mrs. De Lisle.

"But you have thought of it," was answered. A flush dyed the pale face of Mrs. Dexter. "Oh, my friend, beware of evil counsellors!

Mrs. Anthony"--

"Has never looked into my heart. It is shut and fastened with clasps of iron when she is near," returned Mrs. Dexter.