Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Volume 2, No. 12, May, 1851.

She loosened herself from my arm, and walked apart from me in silence. This action, and the sort of panic it indicated, filled me with alarm.

"Astræa, you have not answered my question. What is the reason of your silence?"

"Be the consequences what they may!" she reiterated. "I did not think of that, but it is right I should. I should have thought of it before – I did think of it; but of what avail, while I suffered myself to indulge in a dream which that thought ought to have dispelled?"

"You speak in a language that is unintelligible to me; but there is no time now for explanations. We must decide, Astræa, at once, for to-day and forever. I only ask your explicit pledge. Let us reserve explanations for hereafter."

"You say this in ignorance of what awaits you. I feel that I ought not to make any pledge until – " and she hesitated again.

"If I am satisfied to take your pledge, and all consequences with it, and to repay it with the devotion of my life, why, beloved Astræa, should you hesitate? Let the responsibility fall on me – of that another time. Every hour is precious now, and you will understand why I urge you so impatiently when I tell you that I can never again enter the house where you are now residing."

"I knew it. I saw it clearly from the first word you uttered. It was revealed to me in the very tone of your voice. Now hear me patiently. Your peace, your honor, all feelings that contribute to the respect and happiness of life, are at stake upon this moment."

The determination of her manner left me no choice but to listen.

"Are you prepared to risk all other ties, obligations, and prospects, in the consummation of this one object? to hazard friends, opinion, the world – perhaps it may be, to sacrifice them for the love that has grown up between us, and which, for good or evil, must this day bind us together, or sever us for the rest of our lives?"

"What a question to put to me! The 'world!' it is ashes without you. I tell you, Astræa, that if the choice lay between the grave and the single word that would sunder us, I would die rather than utter it. I don't know what your question implies – I don't seek to know; and would prefer to remain ignorant of it, that I may the more clearly prove to you the depth of my trust and devotion, which will be satisfied with the simple pledge that makes you mine. That, at least, you have in your own power; let me answer for the rest."

"Consider well what you are saying. Is your love strong enough to bear the hazards I have pointed out? Search your own nature – look into your pride, your sensitiveness to neglect and censure, your high sense of personal dignity. I have seen how ill you can brook slight affronts – do you believe that your love will enable you to bear great ones – scorn, contumely, perhaps opprobrium? Think, think, and weigh well your decision."

"Astræa, you put me upon the rack. I have no other answer to give. For you, and for your sake, come what may, I am ready to risk all!"

"For me and for my sake, if it be necessary, to forsake the world? to relinquish friends and kindred? to dedicate yourself in solitude to her who, in solitude, would be content to find her whole world in you? To do this, without repining, without looking back with anguish and remorse upon the sacrifices you had made, without a regret or a reproach? A woman can do this. Is it so sure there lives a man equal to such trials?"

"If these sacrifices be imperative upon us, we make them together. There can be nothing for either of us to reproach the other with. And as to the solitude you speak of, my heart yearns for it. It is in that solitude we can the more fully understand and develop the profound devotion that shall have drawn us into it. I am sick of the world – weary and tired of it, and longing for the repose which you alone can consecrate. It will be no sacrifice to abandon the world for you. Sacrifice, my Astræa? it will be the crowning happiness of my life!"

"And you are confident that you can depend upon the firmness of your resolution? I do not ask this for my own sake – for I know myself, what I can suffer and outlive – but for yours."

"I solemnly and finally answer, that no earthly influence can shake my resolution."

"Then," said Astræa, placing her hand in mine, and in a grave voice, laden with emotion, "I am yours forever. Henceforth, I owe no allegiance elsewhere – here, in the sight of Heaven, I pledge my faith to you, and hold the compact as binding as if at this moment it were plighted at the altar."

I was transported with the earnestness of these words, and covering her hand with kisses, I exclaimed —

"And I ratify it, Astræa, my own Astræa, with my whole heart. Now, who shall divide us? We are one, and no human power can part us."

I then related to her the circumstances that had taken place the preceding evening. She heard me throughout with a calmness that surprised me. I expected that the extraordinary conduct of the dwarf would have excited her indignation; but she seemed to know him better than I did, and although I could perceive a heavy flush sometimes rush into her cheeks, and a sudden pallor succeed it, the narrative of his mysterious menaces did not appear to produce half as much astonishment in her mind as it did in mine.

"We will talk of this another time," she observed; "at present we must think of ourselves. I know his character – I know the demoniac revenge he is capable of; and, for our own safety, we must avoid him."

"Revenge!" I echoed. The phrase coming from Astræa fell strangely on my ears.

"I will leave the house to-morrow; but, for your sake, I will hold no communication with you till I am beyond his reach. Once assured of that, I will write to you, and you will come to me. This is the only act I will ask to take upon my own responsibility, and I do so because it will secure our mutual safety. From that hour I shall be implicitly guided by you."

I should have been glad to have adopted a different course, and to have claimed her openly. My pride, wounded by the insolent denunciations of the dwarf, demanded a more public vindication of her independence and mine; and this stolen flight, and the necessity it imposed upon me of observing a similar caution in my own movements, looked so like fear and evasion that I submitted to it very reluctantly. The notion of concealment and secrecy galled me, and even at this moment, when my happiness was on the eve of consummation, it gave me a thrill of uneasiness that cast an oppressive shadow over the future. Astræa, however, had evidently a strong reason for insisting on privacy, and I was too anxious about hastening our union to throw any new obstacle in the way of its accomplishment.

We separated in the Park, Astræa being unwilling to suffer me to escort her any further lest we should be seen together. This little incident, trifling as it was, increased the nervous annoyance and sense of humiliation I felt at being required to act as if I had any fear of the results; nor could I comprehend why she should be so much alarmed at being seen walking with me alone, when she knew that in a few days we should be indissolubly united. But I submitted to her wishes. Passion is willful and unreasonable, and takes a wayward pleasure in shutting its eyes, and rushing onward in the dare. I stifled my vexation in the anticipation of the joy that lay before me, which would be victory enough over the impotent hatred of Mephistophiles.

VIII

Throughout the whole of the next day I waited anxiously in the expectation of hearing from Astræa. Evening came and passed, and there was no communication. When the last post-hour was gone by, and all hope of a letter was at an end, I ventured into the streets, hoping to gather some signs of her movements from the outside of her house. The blinds were down as usual in the drawing-room windows, and there seemed to be rather an extraordinary flush of lights within, as if some commotion was going forward. I could see huge, shapeless shadows of people moving about the room, in great bustle and excitement; and it appeared to me, from the frequency and confusion of then: motions, that the ordinary family party was augmented by additional numbers. The gathering, whatever it might have been, was not for festivity; and the constant swaying backward and forward, and vehement tossing of long streaks of heads and arms on the blinds, resembled the action of a violent domestic scene, in which the angry passions were strenuously engaged. I hardly knew what to conclude from this incoherent pantomime. Either Astræa was there, in the midst of a stormy contention; or she had left the house, and they were disputing furiously over the causes of her departure.

After I had been some time watching this unintelligible phantasmagoria, and vainly endeavoring to collect a meaning for it, the hall-door opened, and in the momentary gleam of light that shot into the street I saw the dwarf issuing out, muffled to the ears in a cloak. He stood for a moment on the pavement, and adjusting his cloak more carefully about his face, and crushing his hat down over his eyes, he set off at a quick pace in an opposite direction to that part of the street where I was standing. I confess I felt ashamed of the espionage in which I was occupied, and although I followed my mercurial fiend at a safe distance, for the distinct purpose of earthing him wherever he was going, I by no means liked the office which a sort of fatality had forced upon me. But I was somewhat reconciled to it by a secret conviction that the abominable little demon had himself come out upon an equally discreditable expedition, which I soon detected from the infinite pains he took to elude observation.

Instead of keeping in the public streets, he darted down numerous dark alleys and lanes, and once with considerable difficulty I chased him through the unsavory depths of a straggling mews, where he doubled in an out with such rapidity as to render it no easy matter to keep upon his track without betraying myself. Two or three times I nearly lost sight of him; and it was not until he emerged out of a gloomy passage, of the existence of which I was until that moment ignorant, into the street where I lived, that I had the least suspicion of the direction he was taking. It was presently evident that his object had some reference to me, for he had no sooner entered the street than he darted into the deep recess of a hall-door, where he stood for full ten minutes crouched and transfixed, looking up at my windows, which were exactly opposite to him.

Fortunately I was able to note his movements without being myself perceived, as I lurked in the shadow of the passage from whence he had just issued.

The windows of my chambers being dark, I presume he concluded that I was from home; and under that impression, no doubt, he crossed over and knocked stealthily at the door – just as one would knock who did not wish to attract the attention of the inmates, but merely to convey an intimation to the servants. I was seized with a strong impulse to rush upon him suddenly, present myself as the door opened, and confound him on the spot; but I remembered how earnestly Astræa had urged upon me the prudence of avoiding him, and I restrained myself. Stepping cautiously into a doorway, I continued to watch his further proceedings.

The door was opened by a servant, and my dwarf, burying himself up to the eyes in his cloak, so that it was impossible to distinguish his features, appeared to enter into a confidential conversation with her. It seemed to me to last a long time; but my impatience, no doubt, exaggerated its duration. At length it drew to an end, and hastily nodding to the servant, who looked after him, as I thought with much curiosity and astonishment, he dropped down the street at the same flying pace with which he had entered it. That he had come to my house for the purpose of picking up some intelligence about me was clear; upon that point I was satisfied, and the discovery only served to heighten my anxiety to find out what he was going to do next.

As he darted along I could not help admiring his wonderful agility. There was a certain sort of confident swagger about his ordinary style of walking, such as you frequently observe in small vivacious men, who strut and swing through the streets as if the great globe itself were their private property; but upon this occasion it resolved itself into the swift and impetuous flight of a meteor. He shot from one angle of a street to another something in the manner of a will-o'-the-wisp, and it was almost as difficult to fix his course and follow him up. Thus hanging closely on his footsteps, I was not a little mortified to find, after all, that the trouble I had taken led to nothing. Striking out a different, but a much shorter route, the hideous creature went back to his own house. The lights were already extinguished in the drawing-room, and the windows, even to the dormitories, were in darkness. The domestics, apparently, had retired to bed; for the dwarf, hastily opening the door with a latch-key, vanished from my sight almost at the same instant that he ascended the steps. I lingered for A few moments at a distance, and then slowly returned home, congratulating myself on having detected his sinister expedition, and impatient to ascertain the substance of his conversation with the servant.

When I interrogated her on the subject, she betrayed a little fear and hesitation, but at last she told me every thing that had transpired. The strange gentleman, whom she had never seen before, and who so completely concealed his features that she should not be able to identify him again, asked her a great number of questions about my movements, and especially if I had been out during the day. He appeared surprised to learn that I had only just left home, and wanted to know whether I was expected back that night, and whether I was going out of town. It happened that I had occupied myself throughout the morning in packing my carpet-bag and portmanteau, so that I might be able to attend Astræa's expected summons at a moment's notice; and the servant, whose distrust was awakened by the urgent manner of the questioner, tried to fence off his inquiries about my traveling preparations, but his superior dexterity finally extracted the fact from her. Having obtained that significant clew to my intentions, he suddenly wished her good-night, and disappeared. The girl was so frightened by his mysterious air and abrupt interrogations, that I believe she fancied I was going to fight a duel; for about that time there had been a fatal duel, which furnished a topic of general conversation, and which, I suppose, put the sagacious suspicion into her head.

"Forewarned, forearmed," says the old proverb. I was now fairly apprised that the dwarf was upon my track, and I resolved, as a mere measure of precaution, ignorant as I was of the machinations I had to fear, that whatever course it might become necessary to adopt, should be carried out with the utmost secrecy.

The next morning came a letter from Astræa. No language can adequately depict the agitation with which I opened the envelope. I felt as if my fate was contained in the inclosure – as it was!

It consisted of only a single line, scrawled in haste over a great sheet of paper, at the top of which was an address in the country, in another hand-writing, with the following words beneath, written by Astræa:

"I am here: come to me quickly. – A."

The assurance which this brief intimation conveyed that Astræa had left London, relieved me of at least one source of anxiety; and all that now remained was to obey her mandate, and join her without loss of time in her retreat. I own that I felt rather like a culprit in the way in which I abandoned my chambers. Feeling assured that the dwarf, having once set himself as a spy upon my actions, would stop at no means of tracing me out of town, I determined to leave such an account of myself behind as should effectually put him upon a false scent. I accordingly informed the people of the house that I was going into Buckinghamshire for two days; and, as that was nearly the opposite direction to the route I was really about to take – for my destination lay among the sylvan valleys of Kent – I hoped to baffle him at the start. My arrangements were speedily completed, and, having made a hasty inspection of the street before I ventured out, I sprang into a cabriolet, and drove off.

The imperceptible degrees by which men, in the pursuit of passionate ends, suffer themselves to fall into deceptions, at which their reason and their probity would revolt in calmer moments, might suggest a useful train of reflections at this point of my narrative. But the moral is obvious enough, without requiring to be formally pointed. I shall only remark, that my ruminations in the post-chaise that carried me to Astræa ran chiefly upon the self-humiliation I felt in contemplating the mystery in which I had become entangled step by step, and the sort of guiltiness which my studious evasion of the dwarf seemed to argue to my own mind. Men who act openly never have any reason to entertain a fear of others, and may look the world boldly in the face. It is only men that commit themselves to actions which will not bear the light who resort to subterfuges and concealments, and are harrowed by apprehensions. My dilemma was a singular one. There was nothing I had done which I had the slightest reason to hide or feel alarm about; yet I was taking as cautious measures to avoid publicity as if I were flying from justice, and was haunted all the time by a thrill of terror which I could not assign to any intelligible cause.

In the dusk of the evening, I had the profound happiness of reaching my destination, and all inquietude was lulled into oblivion by the music of those tones which always went direct to my heart. The past and the future were equally absorbed in the luxury of Astræa's society, and I felt that if I needed an excuse for the strange circumstances in which I was placed, I had an ample one in the devotion of such a woman. The very danger – if danger it was, with which I was as yet unacquainted – the anxiety, the concealment, the flight we had passed through to secure our union, enhanced the rapture with which we now met never to be sundered again.

That evening I related to her what had happened the night before, and she gave me an account of the manner in which she had managed to escape from the dwarf's house; for, in spite of the self-possession with which she described the incident, it more nearly resembled an escape than a departure. In fact, she had left the house in the morning, on foot, and was expected back, as usual, to luncheon after her walk. But luncheon passed, and there were no tidings of her; and, at dinner-time, a brief note by the post announced her leave-taking, excusing its abruptness, on the ground of a sudden and urgent call into the country. This was, no doubt, the subject which the angry shadows on the blinds had been so vehemently discussing the night before. So violent an infraction of etiquette would have pained me seriously had it occurred under any other circumstances, or had it been inflicted upon any other persons than the members of that eccentric family. But we knew them well; how unlike they were to the rest of the world, and how slight an impression the mere breach of courtesy would make upon them, in comparison with the malicious curiosity it would awaken! They were like Bohemians in their habits and ways of thinking; and were themselves so accustomed to violate established usages, that the most extravagant irregularities could not very materially surprise them. This consideration reconciled me to a proceeding which must otherwise have been a source of regret to me, on Astræa's account; besides, I was by no means unwilling to accept the sacrifice she had thus made of her own independence as an additional proof of her attachment.

But what was the cause of all these stratagems and concealments? I should learn that the next day. I saw that Astræa was suffering under a despondency natural enough to her novel situation, and I patiently waited her own time for disclosures which I now began to look forward to with nervous apprehensions.

The house in which I found her lay buried in the foliage of a secluded valley. It was in the cottage style, covered with creepers that dropped in at the windows, and filled the rooms with scent; and it belonged to people in an humble rank of life, who had known Astræa from her infancy, and were devoted to her interest. Under the shelter of their roof, she was secure. The place was extremely picturesque on a small scale – a green glen, where the surrounding heights were broken into a variety of forms, and where the eye, on whatever spot it rested, caught some point of beauty. An impetuous little stream rushed from the jaws of a ravine that formed a sort of vista at one extremity, and, brawling away through the wooded depths of the valley, tossed itself into the air over a group of artificial rooks at the foot of the tiny lawn. Dark trees filled the openings in the hills, and the sward round their roots was dotted with clusters of wild flowers, like a garden. A rustic bridge spanned the water, and graceful willows dipped their tresses into the spray. Aquatic plants clung about the rocks – parasite tendrils climbed the ancient wood; and there was altogether a feeling of solitude and repose in the scene, that rendered it the most fitting seclusion on earth to ripen into a new life of love two ardent hearts like ours.

With what anxiety I looked forward to the next day, when Astræa and I, liberated from all eyes, should wander about these lonely paths! It came at last, and with it brought my doom!

(To be continued.)

STORY OF SILVER-VOICE AND HER SISTER ZOE

The phenomena of memory are singular objects of study. I have often thought that a certain class of ideas and observations could be so arranged as to form an orderly, connected chain, one link of which would bring home all the others, however deeply sunken in the mind. But experience teaches me that this is not the case. During my residence in the East, though I kept a careful journal of every thing that seemed interesting at the time, a thousand circumstances came to my notice which I did not set down; and when I have endeavored to recall them, many have stubbornly refused to appear when wanted. But suddenly, when I at least expect it, I now and then find myself irresistibly carried back to old times. Forms that had faded into distance – thoughts that had seemed dissolved into nothing – scenes and impressions which I had in vain sought to revive – obtrude themselves irresistibly on my notice. In general, the unexpected visitants are welcome; the fireside is rendered brighter and more cheerful by them; and their presence sends a glow through this northern atmosphere, which allows autumn to steal on unperceived.

I was prevented last night from sleeping by the perpetual recurrence in my reveries of the name of Lady Silver-Voice. I had forgotten her existence, as one is apt to forget a beautiful thing amidst the material cares of this life. Let me endeavor to tell her story as simply as it was told to me.

But first, how I came to see her – for I have had that privilege. It was one evening in winter-time, that, after a prolonged illness, I was taking a stroll on the roof of a palace-like mansion in Cairo. The sun had set for me; it had gone down behind the interminable sea of houses. But I could still see it shining on the forest of minarets that rose through the moist, balmy air, and on the vast dome of the mosque that now towers above the citadel. The terrace-roof on which I was, though commanded at a distance by much more lofty buildings, was far raised above the humble dwellings near at hand, so that I could look down and observe the movements of my neighbors, who were most varied in race and costume – Turks and Maltese, Arabs and Greeks, Armenians and Copts – to say nothing of "Jews and poultry," which my servant, who brought me a pipe, added to the enumeration.

I passed some time in examining the movements of these various personages, who all come out upon their terraces to enjoy the evening air; and though I did not observe any thing very characteristic, any thing which would necessarily go down in my journal, I was sufficiently interested not to notice the flight of time, and to allow complete darkness to gather round me while I still leaned over the parapet. Suddenly I was aroused from my contemplations by a snatch of a strange song sung in the most marvelously-sweet voice I had ever heard. I started, not exactly like a guilty thing, but transfixed, as it were, by an almost painful shaft of delight. The voice swelled up on the night air, until, in spite of its divine sweetness, it became almost a cry of sorrow, and then ceased, leaving a thrill running through my frame that gradually seemed to shrink back to my heart, and expire there in a feeling of mingled joy and pain. Perhaps the state of my health rendered me peculiarly susceptible of strong emotions: I am afraid I wept. The darkness, however, prevented this weakness from being witnessed by Ali, who came to announce that my dinner was ready. I went down the winding staircase to the vast lonely hall, where I usually ate alone – the master of the house being absent on a journey; but though my appetite was that of a convalescent, I am sure I did not enliven the meal for myself by my usual humorous observations: to the officer, for example, that I was doubtful whether the beef was camel, or the mutton was donkey. Ali seemed rather surprised, especially when I asked him, abruptly, who it was that sang so sweetly in the neighborhood.