Lovers' Saint Ruth's, and Three Other TalesGuiney, Louise Imogen
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Lovers' Saint Ruth's, and Three Other Tales
Guiney, Louise Imogen
American fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, American
"And so it seemed to the only ones who sat tongue-tied amid the great
rejoicing, as if the divine wrath had indeed spent itself upon their
house; the doom of the iniquity of the forefathers, as the Lord Richard
would say to himself. What fresh and mistaken thinking there was to do,
the miserable lad, being sane, did for both, believing that a curse
was upon them, and that they must endure it, and accept the torture of
that alien child's presence for some purpose hidden from human eyes.
Their pact and horrible habit of silence weighed upon their hearts;
and had not one constrained the other, she was very fain at times to
confess, and go, if needs be, into disgrace for the lie. They would
wander sometimes on the terrace, hand-in-hand, without speech, looking
like brother and sister under a common ban. It seems impossible to
understand this deliberate choice of a wrong attitude towards life,
except in the light of that mysticism,
'With shuddering, meek, submitted thought,'
which ruled the Lord Richard's nature. Meanwhile the infant changed to
a noisy, bounding rogue with black eyes, whom his young mother hated.
They called him Ralph, a name not borne before by any of the Langham
race. From his cradle, the poor waif clung to the Lord Richard, as
to his only friend; and that saintly soul, as one might take sweetly
a bitter penance, reared him in right ways, and encouraged or chided
him at need, and won from him an awe and gratitude affecting to see.
But the Lady Eleanor would never have him so much as touch her gown,
which the maids about the manor laid to her troubled wits, and felt
sorry for, without more ado. The old Earl, who liked the boy's health
and pluck, had the portrait painted for the gallery; and even there
you will notice that Ralph is far away from her, and at her husband's
feet. Years of dereliction, therefore, these were to the Lord Richard,
having no child of his own, and watching his intruding heir gaining
daily some virtue and seemly knowledge, and coming, either by nature
or by his careful breeding, fully to deserve those things to which he
had no right before God and the king. And the boy grew, and was worthy
to be loved, so brave he was, and so truth-speaking, and so tractable,
despite his fits of temper. When he had passed his tenth birthday, he
was sent to Meldom School; and his first absence lifted, as it were,
the black load from his mother's spirit; and the beginning of her
recovery, after all that she had endured, was from that day. There came
soon to her and the Lord Richard an unexpected happiness; for the year
1636 saw the birth of their own little Vivian. You may believe that
his father, perplexed by the fresh aspect of the problem before him,
tried to solve it by prayer and patience; the good heart, chastened
ever with much sorrow, and melted away with thinking, thinking. His
wife, free of his morbid scruples, cried out at last irresistibly for
the vindication of her little one.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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