The Double Marriage [pp. 776-787]

The Double JMarriagc.
me, and a low voice, whose tones I
knew and loved too well, poured into
my ears a rapture of love and thanks.
And in a whirl of time that seems to
me now a dream, I was married, and
in Paris. Immediately on our arri val at Paris, my husband wrote to my
mother, telling her of our marriage,
conjuring her for a time not to reveal
it, and begging her forgiveness and
blessing. An answer came, and my
mother's gentle love spoke in every
line, yet her heart seemed broken as
she wrote. Trusting that time would
reveal the mystery of my husband's
strange desire for concealment, I
threw myself into the vortex of plea sure and gayety. The hours passed
like golden moments. I knew no
wish, no caprice, that my husband
did not immediately gratify. The
most devoted love and ardent affec tion were lavished upon me; he was
ever with me: if for one hour we
were separated, he flew to me the
next. Smiles chased the melancholy
and languor from his brow, and the
light in his eyes was to me brighter
than the rarest jewel he loved to
adorn me with. It was short but
brilliant, this dream of mine; its bliss
was dearly purchased. You will
think the story that I am going to
tell you strange, but there are stranger
in the world.
CHAPTER III.
' I TOLD you, sister, how devoted I
was to painting; and this taste my
husband spared no pains to gratify.
He took me, one day, to one of the
most splendid picture-galleries in
Paris, and there, amongst other coef
d'teuvres. I noticed a most beautiful
picture of St. Mary Magdalen. I
stood entranced before it: it represented a graceful,slender figure kneeling before a rustic altar. The hands
were clasped in prayer, and the face
was slightly raised toward heaven
but anything so exquisite as the
blended look of remorse and love
upon those splendid features I never
saw; it was as though the raining
tears had softened the dazzling beau ty and brightness of the large, liquid
eyes, and had blanched the roses on
both cheek and lip, and had left over
the fair face a lingering light, soft
and spiritual. Long golden tresses
waved over her shoulders, and lay
(even as she knelt) upon the ground
in their profusion and luxuriance.
Hope and love were written on the
noble brow, while such humility, such
self-abasement were expressed in the
prostrate, kneeling figure, that at one
glance the history was read. I for got time, place, and all things-my
whole soul absorbed in the won drous beauty of the picture. My hus band had left me to procure a cata logue, when suddenly a heavy hand
was laid upon my shoulder, and a
voice hissed, rather than spoke, into
my ear:'Ay, look-for the sin that
branded her is marked upon your
brow!' The hot breath of the speaker flushed upon my cheek-a low,
scornful laugh, and it was gone. Bewildered, I turned round, but saw no
one who seemed likely to have addressed me or who seemed to notice
me. A few paces from me, looking
intently upon a small painting, there
stood a tall, stately lady, and no one
else was near. I hastened, when I
recovered the use of my faculties, to
ask her if she had seen any one speak
to me, when she quickly arose, and
left the room. As she turned to pass
to the door, I saw her face; it was
handsome, but so cold and haughty,
and with so fierce an expression of
self-will, that the words froze upon
my lips; it was a strange face, too,
and it haunted me all day. I was
bewildered; but I did not tell my
husband. I did not wish to trouble
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