Read Ebook: The Black Cat Vol. I No. 5 February 1896 by Various

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And it was in this way that a heathen nation furnished the youngest naval hero in existence.

The Little Brown Mole.

BY CLARICE IRENE CLINGHAN.

Three years ago, while spending a few weeks in New York, I was invited to the home of Paul Fancourt, the famous naval architect, whose family residence is on the shore of the Hudson, and but a short distance from the city.

I found my old college friend, whom I had not seen for several years, busily engaged with a set of drawings; but, notwithstanding his enthusiasm in his work, he looked worn, haggard, and unhappy. On the afternoon of the last day of my visit I pinned him down to a serious talk, in the course of which I begged him not to undermine his health by too close application to his favorite pursuit.

With a flitting smile he exclaimed: "Why, it's all that keeps me alive!" After a moment's thought he added: "Of late years I have been weighed down by the memory of a dark spot in my life--an unwritten chapter--until at times it seems as though I must make a confidant of some one."

Upon my assurance that I would be a most willing listener, he related the following history:

"Twelve years ago," he said, "when I was twenty-three, I met a singularly handsome girl, a d?butante enjoying the triumphs of her first season. It does not speak well for the good sense of either of us, but I am compelled to admit that within six weeks we had met, loved, married, quarreled, and separated.

"The trouble between us was incompatibility of temper. This sounds insignificant, but there was certainly an enormous lot of incompatibility and much temper! We were very unhappy--at least, I was. We both said things that could never be forgiven or forgotten. Before the honeymoon was over I left my wife in this house, with a corps of servants and a handsome balance at my banker's, and started on a trip around the world.

"These bits of information neither entertained nor amused me. Indeed, I thought myself beyond the point where anything she might say or do could interest me. Not that I had learned to care for any one else, but simply because our short association had utterly destroyed my early boyish affection. Before I had been absent a year her very image seemed effaced from my memory.

"On my arrival in New York, however, I was irritated to learn that not a penny of the money I had left at her disposal had been touched. I believed she had done this for the purpose of annoying me and causing me to look mean in the eyes of the world,--she, meanwhile, earning her livelihood by her art. Being abundantly able, I wished to make a settlement upon her; but, as she absolutely refused to talk with the lawyer I sent to her, I was compelled, repugnant as the idea was, to seek a personal interview. To this end I telegraphed Mrs. Fancourt on the third morning after my arrival, asking if she would receive me at five o'clock that afternoon on an urgent business matter.

"In less than an hour the reply reached me. I tore open the envelope and read the one word which comprised the answer, standing alone, naked of punctuation, on the yellow sheet: 'Come.'

"'That means war to the knife,' I thought, tossing the paper on my dressing-table. 'No words wasted.'

"Arriving in this village just at nightfall, I hurried towards the house which had been the scene of so much unhappiness. To my surprise, it gleamed with lights, as if for some festivity. As I sprang up the steps and laid my hand upon the bell the door was suddenly opened by a maid-servant whose face was strange to me.

"'Where is madame--Mrs. Fancourt?' I asked.

"'In the drawing-room, sir,' she answered, and then discreetly disappeared.

"As you know, the drawing-room in this house is connected with the front hall by an arch, hung with porti?res. These were drawn. Pushing them aside, I entered, and suddenly found myself in the warm glow of a big wood fire which had been lighted in the fireplace. This crackling, cheery blaze and the waning light of the October day were all that lighted the room. There in the center she stood, clad in an exquisite gown of palest yellow, and, as I moved towards her, I saw two hands, instead of one, outstretched. The next moment I was holding them both, the cool, soft fingers clinging to mine while she whispered: 'Paul!'

"For a few seconds we looked at each other silently, breathlessly; then, obeying that irresistible law that causes the needle to be drawn towards the magnet, I bent and kissed her.

"All this took place as I have described it; but it would be impossible for me to account for the feelings that actuated me. I know only that all my bitterness towards my wife, all my dislike for her, in one revulsion of mind changed to the most passionate admiration and affection from the instant her lips touched mine. Dazed, astonished, I could not find voice to speak, but Leila chatted quite naturally as she led me to a big armchair on one side of the fireplace, while she threw herself on a low divan piled with cushions on the other side, putting out a slim little yellow-slippered foot to the blaze.

"'It's such a sorry day that I ordered this big fire, so your home would seem pleasant after your long absence,' said she, in her mellow, vibrating voice. Then, looking at me across the fire, with a winning smile, she added: 'Besides, it was so good of you to come out to see me.'

"I looked at her, still amazed. I now saw that she was much changed. Perhaps she was not so handsome as she had been in her early womanhood; but what she had gained more than made up for that which she had lost. She was thinner; her face had grown ethereal, luminous, spirituelle. Surely, she had suffered, this fiery, savage-tempered girl, for the hardness and selfishness had melted away from her face and left it softened, lovely, and changefully brilliant. At first I thought her eyes were darker; but I soon made up my mind that it was because the pupils were so dilated. Then I knew she, too, was under the tension of strong nervous excitement. Her manner, however, gave no suggestion of this. She talked rapidly and almost continually, saying, apparently, whatever first came into her mind.

"'I suppose it seems frightfully dull to be here again. The merry-go-round has stopped, and here you are at the place from which you started. The curtain has dropped, has it not, dear? You've been everywhere and seen so much; and now everything is at a standstill and you feel a bit giddy from sudden lack of motion. It's much the same with me, only my merry-go-round isn't so merry and not so far around. I've just rotated between here and the New York art schools, and lived very quietly. But I believe I'm doing all the talking. Would you like to say anything--just a little word? Well, I won't let you, for I know two things. You are tired, and no man feels like talking before he has dined. So not a word until after dinner.'

"In the dining-room another surprise awaited me. A miniature banquet had been prepared, evidently in my honor, for I was the only guest. The room was adorned with palms and vines, and the table was gracefully decorated with roses and ferns, among which gleamed the silver and china. Over all was the soft, almost moonlight effect of wax tapers. The only objection I could make to anything was the flowers on the table, which partially concealed the face which I was now hungry to look upon. It was what I believe is termed the Celtic type of beauty, quite common among Anglo-Saxons,--dark brown hair approaching black, gray eyes, and a complexion of creamy fairness.

"We were long at dinner, talking of everything but the subject I came to introduce. I became reminiscent of travel; she was easily entertained and was herself brilliant, serious, and amusing in turn. As we walked back to the drawing-room at the close of the meal, I whispered, like a lover:

"'Leila, I came to scoff, but I remain to pray. Can you forget the past?'

"She promptly put her hand over my mouth. 'The past must remain a sealed book,' she commanded.

"And, so it did.

"In the hour that followed, spent before the open fire, I inadvertently referred more than once to the forbidden subject. But each time I was stopped by a warning gesture and an impressive, 'Remember, not a word. We begin life anew from this hour.'

"With every moment my desire for a reconciliation grew stronger. But when at length she yielded, it was only on two conditions: first, that I would never refer to the past; and, second, that our future be consecrated by a ceremony of marriage.

"I readily agreed to the first condition and took the solemn vow required; but at the second stipulation I laughed. But she said, very seriously, that she could be reconciled to me under no other circumstances. So, yielding to her whim, I ordered a carriage and we drove to the house of an elderly clergyman in the village whom we well knew, who, on hearing our story, willingly agreed to repeat the ceremony; and, lightly, almost laughingly, the words of five years before were once more said.

"Then followed five months of the most absolute happiness that was ever accorded, it seemed to me, to human beings. It was an atmosphere of love, joy, and ineffable content. The beauty of my wife, her changed nature, and fine intuitions grew upon me day by day. There never was, I am sure, a woman like her. I lived in her love; and yet I lost it forever on account of a thing of such infinitesimal importance that it drives me nearly mad to think of it. This object was no more nor less than a little brown mole on my wife's neck, just below her left ear.

"It came about in the following manner: One day, having returned from the city on an earlier train than I had anticipated, I went to Leila's room and found her lying on a couch, fast asleep, her hands clasped behind her head, and one slippered foot crossed over the other--in fact, the posture in which Du Maurier's famous Duchess was wont to 'dream true.' Knowing she was a sound sleeper it occurred to me to softly kiss the little brown mole to which I have just referred--something I had not thought of since the days of our first short honeymoon so long ago.

"I went downstairs and smoked a pipe on the piazza to think over this mystery. But the longer I thought, the less I understood it.

"That evening I said to my wife: 'Sweetheart, where is the little brown mole that was just under your left ear?'

"For a moment she looked at me; then she said softly, but with a certain power in her voice: 'Have you forgotten your vow?'

"I stared a moment; then recalled my promise never to allude to the past. Somehow, it impressed me differently now than when I had first taken it. To be sure, I laughingly begged Leila's pardon, assuring her there would be no more lapses from rectitude in that direction. But from that moment a strange restlessness took possession of me. I felt something impending. In the morning I would wake with a singular sense of oppression, which when traced to its cause always arrived at the same starting-point,--the little brown mole which should have been on my wife's soft white throat, but was not.

"It was about this time that I noticed that there was not a likeness of Leila in the whole house. When I went away there were many scattered about,--water-color sketches, paintings in oil, photographs, and etchings, for Leila had always been proud of her beauty. Now not one remained; even the oil-painting that had been finished, as companion to mine, just, after our first marriage, had been removed, though mine hung in its accustomed place. I was about to call attention to this fact and ask the reason, when I remembered that this circumstance, also, belonged to the past, concerning which I had promised never to question, and was silent.

"My mind had now become so perturbed that it continually demanded something on which to focus its attention. For this reason, I turned my thoughts to my favorite pursuit,--naval architecture,--which had been neglected for months. Before my trip abroad I had left in a sandal-wood box in the library some unfinished plans, which I now decided to complete. But as the box was missing and the servants knew nothing of its whereabouts, I climbed to the attic to look for it myself.

"After an hour spent in a fruitless search I was turning to leave, when my eye fell upon a large picture lying on its face among a heap of papers in the darkest corner. I knew the frame, and the first glance at the picture told me I had happened on what I was not looking for, but had wished for,--a portrait of my wife. It was the one that had been painted directly after our marriage.

"Dragging it from its hiding-place, I carried it to the long, low window, and, propping it up against an old dressing-table in a position that would catch a good light, I carefully wiped off the dust and cobwebs and stood back to view it.

"As I looked I became as a man stricken with death! The face on the canvas was not the face of the woman I loved and worshiped as my wife!

"How long I stood benumbed by this discovery I do not know. After the first shock lessened and my senses began to act, I fell to studying the portrait and comparing it with its living double.

"That there was a remarkable resemblance between the two it is unnecessary to say; but at the same time there were so many points of difference that I was amazed that I could have been so easily deceived. There was, in fact, what might be termed a 'family' resemblance such as often exists between two sisters, who, when together, are not thought to be remarkably alike, but when seen apart are often mistaken for one another. In the picture the ears were larger, the mouth smaller, the chin less decided, the forehead a trifle narrower, and the eyebrows heavier.

"While I stood revolving in my mind this terrible mystery I heard the sound of hurried footsteps. My wife had returned from her afternoon walk. I went downstairs, arriving in the lower hall just as she entered. She came sweeping in with her usual vivacity, her eyes bright, a faint rose tint on her cheeks, enveloped in that atmosphere of exhilaration that was like a breath of ozone, and which gave her a charm above ordinary women.

"Something in my appearance must have startled her, for she paused at sight of me and waited for me to approach. I went to her, kissed her, and then, clasping her gloved wrists in mine, looked steadfastly at her and said, 'Dear, where is Leila?'

"In a moment her brilliant color faded. Her eyes fell. Then, suddenly wrenching herself free from me, she moved unsteadily towards the staircase, pausing with her hand on the banister only long enough to say, 'You have broken your pledge. Leave me alone until to-morrow. Then you shall know everything.'

"Then I heard the sound of her garments on the stairs, presently the closing of her door, and the key turning in the lock.

"All that night I restlessly walked the floor of my room, trying to bring order out of the chaos of my mind. Fear, love, trust, suspicion, all by turns possessed me; but in the end my belief in the goodness of the woman I loved conquered. At early dawn I knocked at my wife's door. There was no response. I tried the knob; it yielded and I entered. There was a dim light in the room; but she was gone. On her dressing-table was a letter which told me all.

"The first few paragraphs are sacred to me alone. I will begin her letter where she commenced her own history.

"'But the pupils did not come; my pictures failed to catch the popular fancy; my money was soon spent. Overwork and worry culminated in illness, and I soon found myself deeply in debt without a friend in the world to whom I could apply for aid. In this extremity I accepted the first work I could obtain--a situation as companion to Mrs. Paul Fancourt.

"'This woman, whose violent temper and moody disposition had driven her husband to foreign countries before the honeymoon was over, was the terror of her household. She, I believe, took a dislike to me from the first on account of a singular resemblance between us, and also because she saw I was her equal by birth and education. At any rate, she delighted in humiliating me in every way, as well as in making my duties as laborious as possible. I hated to touch a morsel of food under her roof, but my unmet obligations made it impossible for me to resign my position, as I did not know where else I could obtain remunerative work, and I had a horror of debt. But, though I outwardly kept my temper, a volcano of hurt pride and misery burned within me.

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