The Hand But Not the Heart

T >> T.S. Arthur >> The Hand But Not the Heart

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CHAPTER XXVII.

As Hendrickson had rightly supposed, Jessie Loring came forth from
her seclusion of years. Not all at once, but by gradual intrusions
upon the social life around her. At first she went abroad on a
mission of charity. Then her friend Mrs. De Lisle, drew her to her
house, and there a new face that interested her awakened a new
impulse in her mind. And so the work went on, and ere long she was
in part restored to society. But how different from the one who had
withdrawn from it years before! Suffering and discipline had left
upon her their unmistakable signs. The old beauty of countenance had
departed. The elegant style--the abounding grace of manner--the
fascinating speech--all were gone. Only those to whom she had been
most familiar, recognized in the pale, serene countenance, retiring
grace and gentle speech of Jessie Loring, the once brilliant Mrs.
Dexter.

And quite as different was the effect she produced upon those who
came within the sphere of her chastened thoughts. Before, all
admired her; now, all who could draw close enough, found in her
speech an inspiration to good deeds. Some were wiser--all were
better in right purposes--who met her in familiar intercourse. And
the more intimately she was known, the more apparent became the
higher beauty into which she had arisen; a celestial beauty, that
gave angelic lustre at times to her countenance.

To no one did she mention the name of Hendrickson. If she missed him
from the circles which had again opened to receive her, none knew
that her eyes had ever looked for his presence. No one spoke to her
of him, and so she remained for a time in ignorance of his singular
disappearance. A caution from Mrs. De Lisle to Mrs. Loring, made
that not over-cautious individual prudent in this case.

One day Jessie was visiting Mrs. Denison, to whom she had become
warmly attached. She did not show her accustomed cheerfulness, and
to the inquiries of Mrs. Denison as to whether she was as well as
usual, replied, as it seemed to that lady, evasively. At length she
said, with a manner that betrayed a deep interest in the subject:

"I heard a strange story yesterday about an old acquaintance whom I
have missed--Mr. Hendrickson."

"What have you heard?" was inquired.

"That he left the city in a mysterious manner several months ago,
and has not been heard of since."

"It is true," said Mrs. Denison.

"Was there anything wrong in his conduct?" asked Jessie Loring, her
usually pale face showing the warmer hues of feeling.

"Nothing. Not even the breath of suspicion has touched his good
name."

"What is the explanation?"

"Common rumor is singularly at fault in the case," replied Mrs.
Denison. "I have heard no reason assigned that to me had any
appearance of truth."

"Had he failed in business?" asked Miss Loring.

"No. He was in a good business, and accumulating property. But he
sold out, and converting all that he was worth into money, took it
with him, and left only his memory behind."

"Had he trouble with any one?"

"No."

Jessie looked concerned--almost sad.

"I would like to know the reason." She spoke partly to herself.

"I alone am in possession of the reason," said Mrs. Denison, after a
silence of more than a minute.

"You!"

Thrown off her guard, Jessie spoke eagerly and with surprise.

"Yes. He wrote me a letter at the time, stating in the clearest
terms the causes which led to so strange a course of conduct.

"Did you approve of his reasons?" Miss Loring had regained much of
her usual calm exterior.

"I accepted them," was answered. "Under all the circumstances of the
case, his course was probably the wisest that could have been
taken."

"Are you at liberty to state the reasons?" asked Miss Loring.

Mrs. Denison thought for some time.

"Do you desire to hear them?" she then asked, looking steadily into
the face of her visitor.

"I do," was firmly answered.

"Then I will place his letter to me in your hands. But not now. When
you leave, it will be time enough. You must read it alone."

A sudden gleam shot across the face of Jessie. But it died like a
transient meteor.

"I will return home now, Mrs. Denison," she said, with a manner that
showed a great deal of suppressed feeling. "You will excuse me, of
course."

"Cannot you remain longer? I shall regret your going," said her kind
friend.

"Not in my present state of mind. I can see from your manner that I
have an interest in the contents of that letter, and I am impatient
to know them."

It was all in vain that Jessie Loring sought to calm her feelings as
she returned homeward with the letter of Paul Hendrickson held
tightly in her hand. The suspense was too much for her. On entering
the house of her aunt, she went with unusual haste to her own room,
and without waiting to lay aside any of her attire, sat down and
opened the letter. There was scarcely a sign of life while she read,
so motionless did she sit, as if pulsation were stilled. After
reading it to the last word she commenced folding up the letter, but
her hands, that showed a slight tremor in the beginning, shook so
violently before she was done, that the half closed sheet rattled
like a leaf in the wind. Then tears gushed over the letter, falling
upon it like rain.

There was no effort on the part of Jessie to repress this wild rush
of feeling. Her heart had its own way for a time. In the deep hush
that followed, she bowed herself, and kneeled reverently, lifting a
sad face and tear-filled eyes upwards with her spirit towards
Heaven. She did not ask for strength or comfort--she did not even
ask for herself anything. Her soul's deep sympathies were all for
another, towards whom a long cherished love had suddenly blazed up,
revealing the hidden fires. But she prayed that at all times, in all
places, and under all circumstances, _he_ might be kept pure.

"Give him," she pleaded, "patient endurance and undying hope. Oh,
make his fortitude like the rock, but his humanities yielding and
all pervading as the summer airs laden with sweetness. Sustain him
by the divine power of truth. Let Thy Word be a staff in his hand
when travel-worn, and a sword when the enemy seeks his life. In his
own strength he cannot walk in this way; in his own strength he
cannot battle with his foes--but in Thy strength he will be strong
as a lion, and as invincible as an army."

After rising from her knees, Miss Loring, over whose spirit a deep
quietude had fallen, re-opened Hendrickson's letter and read it
again; and not once only but many times, until every word and
sentence were written on her memory.

"The way may be rough, and our feet not well shod for the long
journey," she said, almost with a smile on her pure face, "the sky
may be sunless and moonless, and thick clouds may hide even the
stars--but there are soft green meadows beyond, and glorious
sunshine. If I am not to meet him here, I shall be gathered lovingly
into his arms there, and God will bless the union!"

When next Mrs. Denison saw this young martyr, there was even a
serener aspect in her countenance than before. She was in possession
of a secret that gave a new vitality to her existence. Until now,
all in regard to Hendrickson had been vague and uncertain. Their few
brief but disastrous meetings had only revealed an undying interest;
but as to the quality of his love, his sentiments in regard to her,
and his principles of life, she knew literally nothing. Now all was
made clear; and her soul grew strong within her as she looked
forward into the distance.

"I will keep that letter," she said to Mrs. Denison, in so firm a
voice that her friend was surprised. "It is more really addressed to
me than it is to you; and it was but fair that it should come into
my possession. He is one of earth's nobler spirits."

"You say well, Miss Loring. He is one of earth's nobler spirits. I
know him. How he would stand the fire, I could not tell. But I had
faith in him; and my faith was but a prophecy. He has come out
purified. I was not at first satisfied with this last step; but on
close reflection, I am inclined to the belief that he was right. I
do not think either of you are strong enough yet to meet. You would
be drawn together by an attraction that might obscure your higher
perceptions, and lead you to break over all impediments. That, with
your views, would not be well. There would be a cloud in the sky of
your happiness; a spot on your marriage garments; a shadow on your
consciences."

"There would--there would!" replied Miss Loring with sudden feeling.
Then, as the current grew placid again, she said:

"I can hardly make you comprehend the change which that letter has
wrought in me. All the thick clouds that mantled my sky, have lifted
themselves from the horizon, showing bright gleams of the far away
blue; and sunrays are streaming down by a hundred rifts. Oh, this
knowledge that I am so deeply, purely, faithfully loved, trammelled
as I am, and forbidden to marry, fills my soul with happiness
inexpressible. We shall be, when the hand of our wise and good
Father leads us together, and His smile falls unclouded upon our
union, more blessed a thousand fold than if, in the eagerness of
natural impulses, we had let our feelings have sway."

"If you are both strong enough, you will have the higher blessing,"
was the only answer made by Mrs. Denison.

From that period a change in Jessie Loring was visible to all eyes.
There came into her countenance a warmer hue of health; her bearing
was more erect, yet not self-confident; her eyes were brighter, and
occasionally the flash of old-time thought was in them. Everywhere
she went, she attracted; and all who came into familiar intercourse
with her, felt the sweetness of her lovely character. The secret of
this change was known to but few, and they kept it sacred. Not even
Mrs. Loring, the good-hearted aunt, who loved her with a mother's
maternal fondness, was admitted into her confidence, for she felt
that mere worldliness would bruise her heart by contact. But the
change, though its causes were not seen, was perceived as something
to love, by Aunt Phoebe, who felt for her niece a daily increasing
attachment.

And so the weeks moved on; and so the years came and went. Little
change was seen in Jessie Loring; except, that the smile which had
been restored, gradually grew less, though it did not bear away the
heavenly sweetness from her countenance. In all true charities that
came within her sphere of action, whether the ministration were to
bodily necessities, or moral needs, she was an angel of mercy; and
few met her in life's daily walk, but had occasion to think of her
as one living very near the sources of Divine love.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

TEN years had glided away, yet not in all that time had Jessie
Loring received a word of intelligence from Paul Hendrickson. He had
passed from sight like a ship when darkness falls upon the
ocean--the morning sees her not again, and the billows give no
record of the way she went. But still Jessie bore his image at her
heart; still her love was undimmed, and her confidence unshaken--and
still she felt herself bound by the old shackles, which no human
hand could break from her fettered limbs.

One day, about this time, as Mrs. Denison sat reading, a servant
came into her room and handing her a card, said:

"There is a gentleman waiting in the parlor to see you."

She looked at the card, and started with surprise. It bore the name
of PAUL HENDRICKSON.

"My dear friend!" she exclaimed, grasping both of his hands, as she
stood facing him a few moments afterwards.

"My best friend!" was the simple response, but in a voice tremulous
with feeling.

A little while they stood, gazing curiously yet with affectionate
interest, into each other's face.

"You are not much changed; and nothing for the worse," said Mrs.
Denison.

"And you wear the countenance of yesterday," he replied, almost
fondly. "How many thousands of times since we parted, have I desired
to stand looking into your eyes as I do now! Dear friend! my heart
has kept your memory fresh as spring's first offerings."

"Where have you been, in all these years of absence?" Mrs. Denison
asked, as they sat down, still holding each other's hands tightly.

"Far away from here; but of that hereafter. You have already guessed
the meaning of my return to the old places."

"No."

"What! Have you not heard of Mr. Dexter's decease?"

"Paul! is that so?" Mrs. Denison was instantly excited.

"It is. I had the information from a correspondent in London, who
sent me a paper in which was a brief obituary. He died nearly three
months ago, of fever contracted in a hospital, where he had gone to
visit the captain of one of his vessels, just arrived from the coast
of Africa. The notice speaks of him as an American gentleman of
wealth and great respectability."

"And the name is Leon Dexter?" said Mrs. Denison.

"Yes. There is no question as to the identity. And now, my good
friend, what of Jessie Loring? I pray you keep me not longer in
suspense."

So wholly absorbed were they, that the ringing of the street door
bell had not been heard, nor the movement of the servant along the
passage. Ere Mrs. Denison could reply, the parlor door was pushed
quietly open, and Miss Loring entered.

"She stands before you!" said Mrs. Denison, starting up and
advancing a step or two.

"Jessie Loring!"

Mr. Hendrickson uttered the name slowly, but in a voice touched with
the profoundest emotion. He had arisen, but did not advance. She
stood suddenly still, and held her breath, while a paleness
overspread her features. But her long training had given her great
self-control.

"Mr. Hendrickson," she said, advancing across the room.

He grasped her hand, but she did not return the ardent pressure,
though the touch went thrilling to her heart. But the paleness had
left her face.

At this moment Mrs. Denison came forward, and covering their clasped
hands with hers, said in a low, but very emphatic voice:

"There is no impediment! God has removed the last obstruction, and
your way is plain."

Instantly the whole frame of Miss Loring seemed jarred as by a heavy
stroke; and she would have fallen through weakness, if Hendrickson
had not thrown an arm around her. Bearing her to a sofa, he laid
her, very tenderly, in a reclining position, with her head resting
against Mrs. Denison. But he kept one of her hands tightly within
his own; and she made no effort to withdraw it.

"There is no obstruction now, dear friends," resumed Mrs. Denison.
"The long agony is over--the sad error corrected. The patience of
hope, the fidelity of love, the martyr-spirit that could bear
torture, yet not swerve from its integrity, are all to find their
exceeding great reward. I did not look for it so soon. Far in
advance of the present I saw the long road each had to travel, still
stretching its weary length. But suddenly the pilgrimage has ended.
The goal is won while yet the sun stands at full meridian--while yet
the feet are strong, and the heart brave for endurance or battle.
Heroes are ye, and this is my greeting!"

With eyes still closed, Jessie lay very still upon the bosom of this
dear friend. But oh, what a revelation of joy was in the sweet,
half-formed smile that arched her lips with beauty! Hendrickson
stood, still grasping her hand, and looking down into her pure,
tranquil face, with such a rapture pervading his soul, that he
seemed as if entering upon the felicities of heaven.

"This is even better than my hopes," he said, speaking at length,
but in a subdued voice.

Jessie opened her eyes, and now gazed at him calmly, but lovingly.
What a manly presence was his! How wonderfully he was
changed!--Thought, suffering, endurance, virtue, honor, had all been
at work upon his face, cutting away the earthly and the sensual,
until only the lines of that imperishable beauty which is of the
spirit, remained. Every well-remembered feature was there; but the
expression of his whole face was new.

A moment or two only did she look at him--but she read a volume in
love's history at a glance--then closed her eyes again, and, as she
did so, gave back to the hand that still held hers, an answering
pressure.

The long, long trial of faith, love and high religious principle was
over, and they were now standing at the open door of blessing.

And so the reward came at last, as come it always does, to the true,
the faithful, the pure, and the loving--if not in this world,
assuredly in the next--and the great error of their lives stood
corrected.

But what a lesson for the heart! Oh, is there a more fearful
consummation of error in the beginning of life than a wholly
discordant marriage! This mating of higher and lower natures--of
delicacy with coarseness--of sensuality with almost spiritual
refinement--of dove-like meekness with falcon cruelty--of the lamb
with the bear! It makes the very heart bleed to think of the undying
anguish that is all around us, springing from this most frightful
cause of misery!

In less than a month Paul Hendrickson again departed from B--, but
this time not alone, nor with his destination involved in mystery.
His second self went with him, and their faces were turned towards a
southern island, where the earth was as rich in blossom and verdure
as the bride's heart in undying love. Here his home had been for
years; and here his name was an honored word among the
people--synonymous with manly integrity, Christian virtue, and true
benevolence.

After the long, fierce battle, peace had come with its tranquil
blessings. After the storm, the sunshine had fallen in glorious
beauty. After the night of suffering, morning had broken in joy.

We stand and gaze, with rapt interest, upon the river when it leaps
wildly over the cataract, or sweeps foaming down perilous rapids, or
rushes through mountain gorges; but turn away from its quiet beauty
when it glides pleasantly along through green savannahs. Such is our
interest in life. And so we drop the curtain, and close our history
here.

THE END.

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