Secresy; or, Ruin on the Rock

I saw that he trembled excessively, and gladly would I have retracted my consent; but it was too late. I could nothing more than hasten the interview, that the expectation of it might not prey on him thus dreadfully. We prevailed on him to taste the liquid; and then his attendants carried him in their arms to the chamber door, where at his own desire they stood still for a moment or two.

When he was borne into the room, he suddenly assumed a strength which had before totally failed him, and tottered to the seat beside her. – Neither spoke. – He gazed, till he could gaze no longer; and, leaning back his head, burst into a violent flood of tears. Sibella was not moved. She put out her hand towards his; I lifted his, and gave it her.

'Mr. Murden,' said she, as she pressed his hand, 'you have been very kind to me – tell me how I can thank you?'

'You were once unkind to me,' replied Murden, sobbing, – 'you hated me! you shunned me!'

'True, for I did not know you. – Yet, I fancied myself infallibly discerning.' She turned her head away.

'Oh do not, do not turn from me! – Miss Valmont, I once talked with you in the Ruin – Do you remember it?'

'Yes. – You were not so ill then, as you are now.'

'And you, Miss Valmont, was well.'

'I did think so,' she said, and sighed.

Murden comprehended the fullest force of her meaning. He looked wildly around the apartment. 'Let me go, let me go,' said he eagerly, withdrawing his hand from Sibella and attempting to rise. I beckoned in his two attendants, who lifted him from his seat.

'Will you go, and not bid me farewel, Murden?' asked Sibella.

He started at the plaintive tone. – 'Stand off!' cried he, 'would ye dare take me from her ere my errand is completed?'

'It is completed, my dear Murden.' said I. 'You have seen Sibella. Bid her farewel, and part.'

'Yes! yes!' said he, sitting down again beside her. 'We shall part – we are now on the very verge of parting. – Oh dear, good Miss Ashburn, bless you for ever!' As he spoke, he pressed each of my hands alternately to his lips. – 'Dear dear Miss Ashburn, fare you well!'

'Indeed, Murden, you must go,' said I. 'Must,' repeated he – 'must! why I know I must. – I have no choice, Miss Ashburn. But allow me a little longer: – won't you,' – turning to Sibella – 'allow me a very little longer?'

'Certainly, I will,' replied Sibella; 'if it will give you satisfaction.'

'Satisfaction!' said he.

After a pause, during which he gazed intently on Sibella, his countenance underwent a striking alteration. He made a motion for something to be given to him; but, when the servant approached, he put him aside. His head dropped against the side of the chair; and the hand he had just lifted to his forehead fell upon the bed. Sibella placed it between both of her's.

He drew his breath slowly and heavily. Once I thought he had fainted, and offered to support him. 'No! no! no!' he said; and shortly after, I believe he slept.

At that time all who were in the apartment observed a profound silence. Sibella in deep thought continued to hold his hand. Sometimes she looked upon Murden; and, in those expressive looks, I read the anguish of her heart. She could not, as Mrs. Beville had supposed, separate his sufferings from her own. I perceived that her emotions were kindling into agony; and I arose from my seat, undetermined which way I could relieve her, when a loud and dreadful groan from Sibella roused Murden from his short interval of forgetfulness.

'Oh! have pity!' said Murden.

Sibella uttered a second groan.

'Miss Valmont!' exclaimed Murden.

'Give me not a name' – cried Sibella. 'I own none! What am I? a shadow! A dream! – Will you oblige me?' added she, vehemently grasping Murden's hand – 'Carry to him the name you used to me. Bid him murder that also. – Oh! your touch is ice!' – she exclaimed, throwing his hand suddenly from her; 'you have chilled my blood!'

A moment after, she recollected herself. 'Poor Murden!' said she, 'Warm! warm yourself! Why are you so cold?'

'Because I too am but a shadow,' replied Murden. 'Hear me, Miss Valmont. I must call you so. – It was when you came to seek your fawn in the Ruin, that you talked with me there. Do you remember it?'

'I do.'

'Oh, Miss Valmont, Miss Valmont, methought you never looked so lovely, never was so gentle as while you spake two words – Only two. And can you not remember that I said to you – When remembrances of love shall be no longer remembrances of happiness, then —Die also.'

'Great God! Do you reproach me with living!' cried Sibella, starting up in the bed in a phrenzy. 'Know you not I expired when – Oh! Am I not dead dead already?'

'Then, let the same grave receive us!' Bending forward, he locked her in his arms, and sunk upon her pillow, never to rise again.

It is easier, my Lord, for you to imagine than for me to describe the consequence of yesterday's event to my beloved and dying friend. Her convulsions become each hour more and more rapid and exhausting. Yet she has intervals of composure and even of rest, and these serve to detain a little longer her bursting spirit within the fading form. Oh, cruel those who have been the means of thus early separating a mind and form so worthy of happiness, so mated to each other! As for myself, I have endured much, and have much yet to endure, for remembrances of Murden and Sibella, of their virtues and misfortunes will live with me, will be the cherished, tender companions of many hours; nor shall that which the world calls pleasure, ever buy me from one of those hours with the richest of her temptations.

Last night, while Sibella slept, I would have slept also, but the scene of yesterday lay a cumbrous load upon my heart. I rose and passed to the chamber where the corpse of Murden is deposited. His faults fled from me. I saw only Murden, I remembered him living, and now I looked on him dead. – My Lord, my Lord, what a contrast! – What a pang!

A smile of something more than peace illumines even now the face from whence animation is gone for ever. It was his last smile, the smile he had so dearly purchased. His heart indeed dictated that smile, for it expanded with joy when he felt he should die with her for whom he died. Fatal end of an ungoverned passion – virtuous in its object, but vicious in its excess!

The corpse still remains in the house. Why should I part with it? None loved him better.

A sleep almost like death still locks up the faculties of Sibella. During her last interval from pain and convulsions, she gave her final directions, and you my Lord are concerned therein.

Mr. Valmont is sick, sick at heart. He could not come to London; but he sent his steward with forgiveness, blessings, and an earnest request that Sibella would make her own disposition of her fortune, by which he has resolved most faithfully to abide. There is a sum in hand of near a hundred thousand pounds, out of which she has desired that your debts may be discharged, my Lord. Her request to you is, that you will in future refrain from the pernicious practice by which they were incurred. I have no doubt but you will; and certain am I, my Lord, that you may find means of disposing of your time, that in real pleasure will beggar all comparison with those to which you have been accustomed.

I am summoned to Sibella's chamber.

Again Sibella doses. – Her fits have ceased, and death becomes gentle in its preparation. 'Now, my Caroline,' said she as I approached her bed, 'Come and let me bid you farewel. I find there is something yet for me to feel in leaving you. – Methought – ' she added after a pause – 'sensation had been dead in me – I have had strange feelings, Caroline. And now I seem awakening from a fearful dream. I have lost the raging fire which consumed me – early scenes recur – and here,' laying her hand on her bosom, 'something swells as if – as if I yet had – affections!'

So saying, the melting sufferer burst into tears; and my fond hopes would have persuaded me, that these tears were the beginning of her restoration. No, my Lord, it is only fondness that could for one moment entertain the supposition.

'Do not let us weep,' said she, 'Caroline, there is a person – 'tis, I desire it, Caroline – whom you must forgive, pity, and befriend. When you meet him – Clement' – the name hung upon her quivering lips – 'tell him to be sincere. Tell all the world so, Caroline. – My uncle's secrets could have done me but temporary harm, it was mine own secrets destroyed me – Oh that fatal contract!'

A long pause succeeded; but she neither wept not sighed. She had folded her hands upon her bosom, and she looked intently upward.

Again raising herself, she embraced me; and then she said, 'Poor Murden! he had his secrets too, and he has died for them!'

My Lord – it is over. – She expired in my arms.

Yes, they shall be entombed together – the dearer parts of my existence. – I loved them both as I never loved man nor woman beside.