Darkness and Daylight by Mary J. Holmes (best ereader for manga .txt) 📖

“But did she stay crazy?” asked Edith.

“Not wholly so,” returned Arthur, “but from that time her reason began to fail, until now she is hopelessly insane, and has not known a rational moment for more than three years.”

“Nor been home in all that time?” said Edith, while Arthur replied,

“She would not go. She seemed to shrink from meeting her former friends; and at last, acting upon Griswold’s advice, I placed her in the Asylum, going myself hither and thither like a feather tossed about by the gale. Griswold was my ballast, my polar star, and when he said to me, buy a house and have a home, I answered that I would; and when he told me of Grassy Spring, bidding me purchase it, I did so, although I dreaded coming to this neighborhood of all others. I had carefully kept everything from Grace, who, while hearing that I was in some way interested in a Florida estate, knew none of the particulars, and I became morbidly jealous lest she or anyone else should hear of Nina’s misfortune, or what she was to me.

“It was a favorite idea of Griswold’s that Nina might be benefited by a change of place, and when I first came here I knew that she, too, would follow me in due time. She has hitherto been subject to violent attacks of frenzy, during which nothing within her reach was safe; and, knowing this, Griswold advised me to prepare a room, where, at such times, she could be kept by herself, for the sight of people always made her worse. The Den, with the large closet adjoining, was the result of this suggestion, and as I have a great dread of neighborhood gossip, I resolved to say nothing of her until compelled to do so by her presence in the house. I fancied that Mrs. Johnson was a discreet woman, and my purpose was to tell her of Nina as soon as I was fairly settled; but she abused her trust by letting Grace into the room. You refused to enter, and my respect for you from that moment was unbounded.”

She looked at him in much surprise, and he added,

“You wonder, I suppose, how I know this. I was here at the time, was in the next room when you came into the library to wait for Grace. I watched you through the glass door, wondering who you were, until my cousin appeared and I overheard the whole.”

“And that is why you chose me instead of Grace to take charge of your keys,” interrupted Edith, beginning to comprehend what had heretofore been strange to her. “But, Mr. St. Claire, I don’t understand it at all—don’t see why there was any need for so much secrecy. Supposing you did dread neighborhood gossip, you could not help being chosen Nina’s guardian. She could not help being crazy. Why not have told at once that there was such a person under your charge? Wouldn’t it have been better? It was no disgrace to you that you have kept the father’s trust, and cared for his poor child,” and she glanced lovingly at the pretty face nestled against her arm, for Nina had fallen asleep.

Arthur did not answer immediately, and when he did, his voice trembled with emotion.

“It would have been better,” he said; “but when she first became insane, I shrank from having it generally known, and the longer I hugged the secret the harder I found it to divulge the whole. It would look queerly, I thought, for a young man like me to be tramelled with a crazy girl. Nobody would believe she was my ward, and nothing more, and I became a sort of monomaniac upon the subject. Had I never loved her—” he paused, and leaned his head upon his hands, while Edith, bending upon him a most searching look, startled him with the words, “Mr. St. Claire, you have not told me all. There is something behind, something mightier than pride or a dread of gossip.”

“Yes, Edith, there is something behind, but I can’t tell YOU what it is, you of all others.”

He was pacing the floor hurriedly now, but stopped suddenly, and standing before Edith, said: “Edith Hastings, you are somewhat to blame in this matter. Before I knew you I only shrank from having people talk of my matters sooner than was absolutely necessary. But after you became my pupil, the desire that you should never see Nina as she is, grew into a species of madness, and I have bent every energy to keeping you apart. I did not listen to reason, which told me you must know of it sooner or later, but plunged deeper and deeper into a labyrinth of attempted concealment. When I found it necessary to dismiss Mrs. Johnson, if I would keep my affairs to myself, I thought of the old family servants at Sunnybank. I knew they loved and pitied Nina, and were very sensitive with regard to her misfortune. It touches Phillis’ pride to think her young mistress is crazy, and as hers is the ruling mind, she keeps the others in subjection, though old Judy came near disclosing the whole to you at one time, I believe. You know her sad story now, but you do not know how like an iron weight it hangs upon me, crushing me to the earth, wearing my life away, and making me old before my time. See here,” and lifting his brown locks, he showed her many a line of silver. “If I loved Nina Bernard, my burden would be easier to bear.”

“Oh, Mr. St. Claire,” interrupted Edith, “You surely do love her. You cannot help loving her, and she so beautiful, so innocent.”

“Yes,” he answered, “as a brother loves an unfortunate sister. I feel towards her, I think, as a mother does towards a helpless child, a tender pity which prompts me to bear with her even when she tries me almost beyond endurance. She is not always as mild as you see her now, though her frenzied moods do not occur as frequently as they did. She loves me, I think, as an infant loves its mother, and is better when I am with her. At all events, since coming to Grassy Spring, she has been unusually quiet, until within the last two weeks, when a nervous fever has confined her to her room and made her somewhat unmanagable. Griswold said she would be better here, and though I had not much faith in the experiment, I see now that he was right. Griswold is always right, and had I followed his advice years ago, much of my trouble might have been averted. Edith, never conceal a single act, if you wish to be happy. A little fault, if covered up, grows into a mountain; and the longer it is hidden, the harder it is to be confessed. This is my experience. There was a false step at first, and it lies too far back in the past to be remedied now. No one knows of it but myself, Griswold, Nina, and my God. Yes, there IS one more whose memory might be refreshed, but I now have no fear of him.”

Edith did not ask who this other was, neither did she dream that Richard Harrington was in any way connected with the mystery. She thought of him, however, wondering if she might tell him of Nina, and asking if she could.

Arthur’s face was very white, as he replied, “Tell him if you like, or any one else. It is needless to keep it longer, but, Edith, you’ll come again, won’t you? come to see Nina if nothing more. I am glad you have seen her, provided you do not desert me wholly.”

“Of course I shall not,” she said, as she laid the golden head of the sleeping girl upon the cushion of the sofa, preparatory to leaving, “I’ll come again, and forgive you, too, for anything you may have done, except a wrong to her,” and she carefully kissed the poor, crazy Nina.

Then, offering her hand to Arthur she tried to bid him good-bye as of old, but he missed something in her manner, and with feelings sadly depressed he watched her from the window, as, assisted by Ike, she mounted her pony and galloped swiftly away.

“She’s lost to me forever, and there’s nothing worth living for now,” he said, just as a little hand pressed his arm, and a sweet childish voice murmured, “Yes, there is, Arthur. Live for Nina, poor Nina,” and the snowy fingers, which, for a moment, had rested lightly on his arm, began to play with the buttons of his coat, while the soft blue eyes looted pleadingly into his.

“Yes, darling; he said, caressing her flowing curls, and pushing them back from her forehead, “I will live for you, hereafter. I will love no one else.”

“No one but Miggie. You MAY love her. You must love her, Arthur. She’s so beautiful, so grand, why has she gone from Nina, I want her here, want her all the time;” and Nina’s mood began to change.

Tears filled her eyes, and burying her face in Arthur’s bosom she begged him to go after Miggie, to bring her. back and keep her there always, threatening that if he did’nt “Nina would be bad.”

Tenderly, but firmly, as a parent soothes a refractory child, did Arthur soothe the excitable Nina, telling her Miggie should come again, or if she did not, they’d go up and see her.

CHAPTER XVII.

NINA AND MIGGIE.

It would be impossible to describe Edith’s feelings as she rode toward home. She knew Arthur had not told her the whole, and that the part omitted was the most important of all. What could it be? She thought of a thousand different things, but dismissed them one after another from her mind as too preposterous to be cherished for a moment. The terrible reality never once occurred to her, else her heart had not beaten as lightly as it did, in spite of the strange story she had heard. She was glad that she had met with Nina—glad that every obstacle to their future intercourse was removed—and while she censured Arthur much she pitied him the more and scolded herself heartily for feeling so comfortable and satisfied because he had ceased to love the unfortunate Nina.

“I can’t blame him for not wishing to be talked about,” she said. “Shannondale IS a horribly gossipping place, and people would have surmised everything; but the sooner they know it now the sooner it will die away. Let me think. Who will be likely to spread the news most industriously?”

Suddenly remembering Mrs. Eliakim Rogers, the busiest gossip in town, she turned Bedouin in the direction of the low brown house, standing at a little distance from the road, and was soon seated in Mrs. Eliakim’s kitchen, her ostensible errand being to inquire about some plain sewing the good lady was doing for her, while her real object was to communicate as much of Arthur’s story as she thought proper. Incidentally she spoke of Mr. St. Claire, and when the widow asked “What under the sun possessed him to live as he did,” she replied by telling of NINA, his ward, who, she said, had recently come to Grassy Spring from the Asylum, adding a few items as to how Arthur chanced to be her guardian, talking as if she had known of it all the time, and saying she did not wonder that a young man like him should shrink from having it generally understood that he had a crazy girl upon his hands. He was very kind to her indeed, and no brother could treat his sister more tenderly than he treated Nina.

To every thing