CHAPTER I.

by Louisa May Alcott

　　IN A YEAR.The room fronted the west, but a black cloud, barred with red, robbedthe hour of twilight's tranquil charm. Shadows haunted it, lurking incorners like spies set there to watch the man who stood among them muteand motionless as if himself a shadow. His eye turned often to thewindow with a glance both vigilant and eager, yet saw nothing but atropical luxuriance of foliage scarcely stirred by the sultry air heavywith odors that seemed to oppress not refresh. He listened with the sameintentness, yet heard only the clamor of voices, the tramp of feet, thechime of bells, the varied turmoil of a city when night is defrauded ofits peace by being turned to day. He watched and waited for something;presently it came. A viewless visitant, welcomed by longing soul andbody as the man, with extended arms and parted lips received thevoiceless greeting of the breeze that came winging its way across thebroad Atlantic, full of healthful cheer for a home-sick heart. Far outhe leaned; held back the thick-leaved boughs already rustling with agrateful stir, chid the shrill bird beating its flame-colored breastagainst its prison bars, and drank deep draughts of the blessed windthat seemed to cool the fever of his blood and give him back the vigorhe had lost.A sudden light shone out behind him filling the room with a glow thatleft no shadow in it. But he did not see the change, nor hear the stepthat broke the hush, nor turn to meet the woman who stood waiting for alover's welcome. An indefinable air of sumptuous life surrounded her,and made the brilliant room a fitting frame for the figure standingthere with warm-hued muslins blowing in the wind. A figure full of theaffluent beauty of womanhood in its prime, bearing unmistakable marks ofthe polished pupil of the world in the grace that flowed through everymotion, the art which taught each feature to play its part with the easeof second nature and made dress the foil to loveliness. The face wasdelicate and dark as a fine bronze, a low forehead set in shadowy wavesof hair, eyes full of slumberous fire, and a passionate yet haughtymouth that seemed shaped alike for caresses and commands.A moment she watched the man before her, while over her countenancepassed rapid variations of pride, resentment, and tenderness. Then witha stealthy step, an assured smile, she went to him and touched his hand,saying, in a voice inured to that language which seems made for lovers'lips--"Only a month betrothed, and yet so cold and gloomy, Adam!"With a slight recoil, a glance of soft detestation veiled and yetvisible, Warwick answered like a satiric echo--"Only a month betrothed, and yet so fond and jealous, Ottila!"Unchilled by the action, undaunted by the look, the white arm took himcaptive, the beautiful face drew nearer, and the persuasive voice askedwistfully--"Was it of me you thought when you turned with that longing in youreye?""No.""Was it of a fairer or a dearer friend than I?""Yes."The black brows contracted ominously, the mouth grew hard, the eyesglittered, the arm became a closer bond, the entreaty a command."Let me know the name, Adam.""Self-respect."She laughed low to herself, and the mobile features softened to theirformer tenderness as she looked up into that other face so full of anaccusing significance which she would not understand."I have waited two long hours; have you no kinder greeting, love?""I have no truer one. Ottila, if a man has done unwittingly a weak,unwise, or wicked act, what should he do when he discovers it?""Repent and mend his ways; need I tell you that?""I have repented; will you help me mend my ways?""Confess, dear sinner; I will shrive you and grant absolution for thepast, whatever it may be.""How much would you do for love of me?""Anything for you, Adam.""Then give me back my liberty."He rose erect and stretched his hands to her with a gesture of entreaty,an expression of intense desire. Ottila fell back as if the forcefulwords and action swept her from him. The smile died on her lips, aforeboding fear looked out at her eyes, and she asked incredulously--"Do you mean it?""Yes; now, entirely, and forever!"If he had lifted his strong arm and struck her, it would not havedaunted with such pale dismay. An instant she stood like one who saw achasm widening before her, which she had no power to cross. Then as ifdisappointment was a thing impossible and unknown, she seized theimploring hands in a grasp that turned them white with its passionatepressure as she cried--"No, I will not! I have waited for your love so long I cannot give itup; you shall not take it from me!"But as if the words had made the deed irrevocable, Warwick put her away,speaking with the stern accent of one who fears a traitor in himself."I cannot take from you what you never had. Stand there and hear me. No;I will have no blandishments to keep me from my purpose, no soft wordsto silence the hard ones I mean to speak, no more illusions to hide usfrom each other and ourselves.""Adam, you are cruel.""Better seem cruel than be treacherous; better wound your pride now thanyour heart hereafter, when too late you discover that I married youwithout confidence, respect, or love. For once in your life you shallhear the truth as plain as words can make it. You shall see me at mybest as at my worst; you shall know what I have learned to find in you;shall look back into the life behind us, forward into the life beforeus, and if there be any candor in you I will wring from you anacknowledgment that you have led me into an unrighteous compact.Unrighteous, because you have deceived me in yourself, appealed to thebaser, not the nobler instincts in me, and on such a foundation therecan be no abiding happiness.""Go on, I will hear you." And conscious that she could not control thewill now thoroughly aroused, Ottila bent before it as if meekly ready tohear all things for love's sake.A disdainful smile passed over Warwick's face, as with an eye that fixedand held her own, he rapidly went on, never pausing to choose smoothphrases or soften facts, but seeming to find a relish in the utteranceof bitter truths after the honeyed falsehood he had listened to so long.Yet through all the harshness glowed the courage of an upright soul, thefervor of a generous heart."I know little of such things and care less; but I think few lovers passthrough a scene such as this is to be, because few have known lives likeours, or one such as we. You a woman stronger for good or ill than thoseabout you, I a man untamed by any law but that of my own will. Strengthis royal, we both possess it; as kings and queens drop their titles intheir closets, let us drop all disguises and see each other as God seesus. This compact must be broken; let me show you why. Three months ago Icame here to take the chill of an Arctic winter out of blood and brain.I have done so and am the worse for it. In melting frost I have kindledfire; a fire that will burn all virtue out of me unless I quench it atonce. I mean to do so, because I will not keep the ten commandmentsbefore men's eyes and break them every hour in my heart."He paused a moment, as if hotter words rose to his lips than generositywould let him utter, and when he spoke again there was more reproachthan anger in his voice."Ottila, till I knew you I loved no woman but my mother; I wooed nowife, bought no mistress, desired no friend, but led a life austere asany monk's, asking only freedom and my work. Could you not let me keepmy independence? Were there not men enough who would find no degradationin a spiritual slavery like this? Would nothing but my subjectionsatisfy your unconquerable appetite for power?""Did I seek you, Adam?""Yes! Not openly, I grant, your art was too fine for that; you shunnedme that I might seek you to ask why. In interviews that seemed to comeby chance, you tried every wile a woman owns, and they are many. Youwooed me as such as you alone can woo the hearts they know are hardestto be won. You made your society a refreshment in this climate of thepassions; you hid your real self and feigned that for which I felt mosthonor. You entertained my beliefs with largest hospitality; encouragedmy ambitions with a sympathy so genial that I thought it genuine;professed my scorn for shammery, and seemed an earnest woman, eager tofind the true, to do the right; a fit wife for any man who desired ahelpmate, not a toy. It showed much strength of wit and will to conceiveand execute the design. It proved your knowledge of the virtues youcould counterfeit so well, else I never should have been where I amnow.""Your commendation is deserved, though so ungently given, Adam.""There will be no more of it. If I am ungentle, it is because I despisedeceit, and you possess a guile that has given me my first taste ofself-contempt, and the draught is bitter. Hear me out; for thisreminiscence is my justification; you must listen to the one and acceptthe other. You seemed all this, but under the honest friendliness youshowed lurked the purpose you have since avowed, to conquer mostentirely the man who denied your right to rule by the supremacy ofbeauty or of sex alone. You saw the unsuspected fascination thatdetained me here when my better self said 'Go.' You allured my eye withloveliness, my ear with music; piqued curiosity, pampered pride, andsubdued will by flatteries subtly administered. Beginning afar off, youlet all influences do their work till the moment came for the effectivestroke. Then you made a crowning sacrifice of maiden modesty and ownedyou loved me."Shame burned red on Ottila's dark cheek, and ire flamed up in her eyes,as the untamable spirit of the woman answered against her will--"It was not made in vain; for, rebellious as you are, it subdued you,and with your own weapon, the bare truth."He had said truly, "You shall see me at my best as at worst." She did,for putting pride underneath his feet he showed her a brave sincerity,which she could admire but never imitate, and in owning a defeatachieved a victory."You think I shall deny this. I do not, but acknowledge to the uttermostthat, in spite of all resistance, I was conquered by a woman. If itaffords you satisfaction to hear this, to know that it is hard to say,harder still to feel, take the ungenerous delight; I give it to you asan alms. But remember that if I have failed, no less have you. For inthat stormy heart of yours there is no sentiment more powerful than thatyou feel for me, and through it you will receive the retribution youhave brought upon yourself. You were elated with success, and forgot toosoon the character you had so well supported. You thought love blindedme, but there was no love; and during this month I have learned to knowyou as you are. A woman of strong passions and weak principles; hungryfor power and intent on pleasure; accomplished in deceit and reckless intrampling on the nobler instincts of a gifted but neglected nature.Ottila, I have no faith in you, feel no respect for the passion youinspire, own no allegiance to the dominion you assert.""You cannot throw it off; it is too late."It was a rash defiance; she saw that as it passed her lips, and wouldhave given much to have recalled it. The stern gravity of Warwick's faceflashed into a stern indignation. His eye shone like steel, but hisvoice dropped lower and his hand closed like a vice as he said, with theair of one who cannot conceal but can control sudden wrath at a taunt towhich past weakness gives a double sting--"It never is too late. If the priest stood ready, and I had sworn tomarry you within the hour, I would break the oath, and God would pardonit, for no man has a right to embrace temptation and damn himself by alife-long lie. You choose to make it a hard battle for me; you areneither an honest friend nor a generous foe. No matter, I have falleninto an ambuscade and must cut my way out as I can, and as I will, forthere is enough of this Devil's work in the world without our adding toit.""You cannot escape with honor, Adam.""I cannot remain with honor. Do not try me too hardly, Ottila. I am notpatient, but I do desire to be just. I confess my weakness; will notthat satisfy you? Blazon your wrong as you esteem it; ask sympathy ofthose who see not as I see; reproach, defy, lament. I will bear it all,will make any other sacrifice as an atonement, but I will 'hold fastmine integrity' and obey a higher law than your world recognizes, bothfor your sake and my own."She watched him as he spoke, and to herself confessed a slavery moreabsolute than any he had known, for with a pang she felt that she hadindeed fallen into the snare she spread for him, and in this man, whodared to own his weakness and her power, she had found a master. Was ittoo late to keep him? She knew that soft appeals were vain, tears likewater on a rock, and with the skill that had subdued him once sheendeavored to retrieve her blunder by an equanimity which had moreeffect than prayers or protestations. Warwick had read her well, hadshown her herself stripped of all disguises, and left her no defence buttardy candor. She had the wisdom to see this, the wit to use it andrestore the shadow of the power whose substance she had lost. Leavingher beauty to its silent work, she fixed on him eyes whose lustre wasquenched in unshed tears, and said with an earnest, humble voice--"I, too, desire to be just. I will not reproach, defy, or lament, butleave my fate to you. I am all you say, yet in your judgment remembermercy, and believe that at twenty-five there is still hope for the noblebut neglected nature, still time to repair the faults of birth,education, and orphanhood. You say, I have a daring will, a love ofconquest. Can I not will to overcome myself and do it? Can I not learnto be the woman I have seemed? Love has worked greater miracles, may itnot work this? I have longed to be a truer creature than I am; have seenmy wasted gifts, felt my capacity for better things, and looked for helpfrom many sources, but never found it till you came. Do you wonder thatI tried to make it mine? Adam, you are a self-elected missionary to theworld's afflicted; you can look beyond external poverty and see theindigence of souls. I am a pauper in your eyes; stretch out your handand save me from myself."Straight through the one vulnerable point in the man's pride went thisappeal to the man's pity. Indignation could not turn it aside, contemptblunt its edge, or wounded feeling lessen its force; and yet it failed:for in Adam Warwick justice was stronger than mercy, reason thanimpulse, head than heart. Experience was a teacher whom he trusted; hehad weighed this woman and found her wanting; truth was not in her; thepatient endeavor, the hard-won success so possible to many was hardly soto her, and a union between them could bring no lasting good to either.He knew this; had decided it in a calmer hour than the present, and bythat decision he would now abide proof against all attacks from withoutor from within. More gently, but as inflexibly as before, he said--"I do put out my hand and offer you the same bitter draught ofself-contempt that proved a tonic to my own weak will. I can help, pity,and forgive you heartily, but I dare not marry you. The tie that bindsus is a passion of the senses, not a love of the soul. You lack themoral sentiment that makes all gifts and graces subservient to thevirtues that render womanhood a thing to honor as well as love. I canrelinquish youth, beauty, worldly advantages, but I must reverence aboveall others the woman whom I marry, and feel an affection that elevatesme by quickening all that is noblest and manliest in me. With you Ishould be either a tyrant or a slave. I will be neither, but go solitaryall my life rather than rashly mortgage the freedom kept inviolate solong, or let the impulse of an hour mar the worth of coming years."Bent and broken by the unanswerable accusations of what seemed aconscience in human shape, Ottila had sunk down before him with anabandonment as native to her as the indomitable will which still refusedto relinquish hope even in despair."Go," she said, "I am not worthy of salvation. Yet it is hard, veryhard, to lose the one motive strong enough to save me, the one sincereaffection of my life."Warwick had expected a tempestuous outbreak at his decision; this entiresubmission touched him, for in the last words of her brief lament hedetected the accent of truth, and longed to answer it. He paused,searching for the just thing to be done. Ottila, with hidden face,watched while she wept, and waited hopefully for the relenting sign. Insilence the two, a modern Samson and Delilah, waged the old war that hasgone on ever since the strong locks were shorn and the temple fell; awar which fills the world with unmated pairs and the long train of evilsarising from marriages made from impulse, and not principle. As usual,the most generous was worsted. The silence pleaded well for Ottila, andwhen Warwick spoke it was to say impetuously--"You are right! It is hard that when two err one alone should suffer. Ishould have been wise enough to see the danger, brave enough to fly fromit. I was not, and I owe you some reparation for the pain my follybrings you. I offer you the best, because the hardest, sacrifice that Ican make. You say love can work miracles, and that yours is thesincerest affection of your life; prove it. In three months youconquered me; can you conquer yourself in twelve?""Try me!""I will. Nature takes a year for her harvests; I give you the same foryours. If you will devote one half the energy and care to this work thatyou devoted to that other,--will earnestly endeavor to cherish all thatis womanly and noble in yourself, and through desire for another'srespect earn your own,--I, too, will try to make myself a fitter matefor any woman, and keep our troth unbroken for a year. Can I do more?""I dared not ask so much! I have not deserved it, but I will. Only loveme, Adam, and let me save myself through you."Flushed and trembling with delight she rose, sure the trial was safelypassed, but found that for herself a new one had begun. Warwick offeredhis hand."Farewell, then.""Going? Surely you will stay and help me through my long probation?""No; if your desire has any worth you can work it out alone. We shouldbe hindrances to one another, and the labor be ill done.""Where will you go? Not far, Adam.""Straight to the North. This luxurious life enervates me; the pestilenceof slavery lurks in the air and infects me; I must build myself up anewand find again the man I was.""When must you go? Not soon.""At once.""I shall hear from you?""Not till I come.""But I shall need encouragement, shall grow hungry for a word, a thoughtfrom you. A year is very long to wait and work alone."Eloquently she pleaded with voice and eyes and tender lips, but Warwickdid not yield."If the test be tried at all it must be fairly tried. We must standentirely apart and see what saving virtue lies in self-denial andself-help.""You will forget me, Adam. Some woman with a calmer heart than mine willteach you to love as you desire to love, and when my work is done itwill be all in vain.""Never in vain if it be well done, for such labor is its own reward.Have no fear; one such lesson will last a lifetime. Do your partheartily, and I will keep my pledge until the year is out.""And then, what then?""If I see in you the progress both should desire, if this tie bears thetest of time and absence, and we find any basis for an abiding union,then, Ottila, I will marry you.""But if meanwhile that colder, calmer woman comes to you, what then?""Then I will not marry you.""Ah, your promise is a man's vow, made only to be broken. I have nofaith in you.""I think you may have. There will be no time for more folly; I mustrepair the loss of many wasted days,--nay, not wasted if I have learnedthis lesson well. Rest secure; it is impossible that I should love.""You believed that three months ago and yet you are a lover now."Ottila smiled an exultant smile, and Warwick acknowledged his provenfallibility by a haughty flush and a frank amendment."Let it stand, then, that if I love again I am to wait in silence tillthe year is out and you absolve me from my pledge. Does that satisfyyou?""It must. But you will come, whatever changes may befall you? Promise methis.""I promise it.""Going so soon? Oh, wait a little!""When a duty is to be done, do it at once; delay is dangerous. Goodnight.""Give me some remembrance of you. I have nothing, for you are not agenerous lover.""Generous in deeds, Ottila. I have given you a year's liberty, a deargift from one who values it more than life. Now I add this."He drew her to him, kissed the red mouth and looked down upon her with aglance that made his man's face as pitiful as any woman's as he let herlean there happy in the hope given at such cost. For a moment nothingstirred in the room but the soft whisper of the wind. For a momentWarwick's austere life looked hard to him, love seemed sweet, submissionpossible; for in all the world this was the only woman who clung to him,and it was beautiful to cherish and be cherished after years ofsolitude. A long sigh of desire and regret broke from him, and at thesound a stealthy smile touched Ottila's lips as she whispered, with avelvet cheek against his own--"Love, you will stay?""I will not stay!"And like one who cries out sharply within himself, "Get thee behind me!"he broke away."Adam, come back to me! Come back!"He looked over his shoulder, saw the fair woman in the heart of the warmglow, heard her cry of love and longing, knew the life of luxurious easethat waited for him, but steadily went out into the night, onlyanswering--"In a year."