A tragedy of love and hate

Would any one recognize gloomy Aldenmere in the bright, sunny place where perpetual summer seems to reign? Would any one believe this to be the home where the dark shadow of murder had fallen? In all the merry land of England there is not another home so bright and fair.

The tall trees that made gloom, where gloom should not have been, were all cut down, blooming flowers showed their sweet faces everywhere, the desolate state-rooms, closed since that fatal morning when Lady Clarice had been carried home dead, were all furnished with the utmost magnificence, and people said the fêtes given at Aldenmere rivaled those given by royalty itself, they were so magnificent and on so vast a scale.

No more complaints were heard that the chief house in the country was closed, and desolate Sir Ronald seemed as though he could not do enough to atone for the gloomy desolation he had allowed to fall on all around him.

For he has prospered in his wooing. Lady Hermione had been very good to him—perhaps the traces of most bitter sorrow on his face had touched her with sweet, womanly compassion, she whose great charm had been piquant, varied moods, the brilliant power of repartee, whose very uncertainties and caprices had been full of grace because she was the sweetest and most gentle of women. Had everything prospered from the first, and no cloud ever have arisen between them, the chances are that Sir Ronald’s wooing would have been a different matter; she would have enjoyed giving him a love chase.

But now all that pretty, feminine, graceful coquetry had left her. Her sole wish and desire seemed to be to make him forget all he had suffered, and devote herself to his happiness and welfare.

On that eventful day when Sir Ronald had gone to Leeholme, and had won the earl’s consent to his wooing, he did not leave the place until he had her promise. Lord Lorriston had assured him of his free forgiveness, and how perfectly he understood his conduct. Then Sir Ronald had asked to see Lady Hermione. “I could not go from Leeholme in suspense again,” he said; and Lord Lorriston told him his daughter was engaged in what was known as the “cedar-room.”

To the cedar-room he went, unannounced. She raised her eyes, and a flush crimsoned her face, as she saw who it was.

“Hermione,” he said, simply, “I have received your note, and I am here. One word from you restores me from death to life. I could wait no longer. I have come to you to ask my fate.”

And then—he never knew how it happened—the next moment he had her clasped in his arms, and she was weeping on his shoulder.

“I thought, I fancied, I must sacrifice my life to a phantom of grief,” he said; “but, Hermione, I have suffered enough. I have come to you for life, love, happiness, and, my darling, you must not send me from you.”

“I will not,” she whispered.

But he, in his impetuous hurry, did not hear her.

“If you saw a man drowning and held the rope that was to save him, you could not cut it adrift?”

“No, no!” she cried.

“It is you, Hermione, who holds my life, my soul, my welfare, all in your own hands. Think what my love has cost me, and, darling, do not send me from you again.”

The beautiful face she raised to his had a light in it never yet seen on land or sea, the light of love and heroism.

“You shall never leave me, Ronald, through fault of mine. I love you dearly. I have never loved any one else. If you had never sought me again, I should, for your sake, have gone single to my grave. I tell you all this to comfort you, and because I know you to stand in sore need of comfort now.”

She was almost alarmed at the ghastly pallor that overspread his face.

“I cannot believe it,” he said. “Oh, Hermione, swear to me that you will be mine!”

He never forgot the next moment—never, even when after years taught him how true was her vow. She laid her hand in his.

“You ask me to love you, Ronald? You ask me to swear to be your wife. Listen, love, to my vow. I promise to love you, and you alone, while life shall last. I promise to live for your happiness and welfare; to spend my whole life in teaching you to forget your sorrow and learn true happiness at last. I swear to be true to you, to stand by your side in all trials, to shield you from all cares—ah, and if need should be, my husband and love, to lay down my life for yours!”

She paused then, for the fervor of her own words had overpowered her. An hour was to come when those words would comfort them both, and they would know how deeply Lady Alden felt the solemnity of her vow.

Their marriage was not long delayed. It seemed to Sir Ronald that the good angel of his life was coming home to him at last, for Lady Hermione was less woman than angel. She soothed him; her sweet, bright words drove away the darker moods that would at times overtake him in spite of the sunshine of her presence. It was as though new life had come to the grand old mansion, when Lady Alden’s bright, sweet face shone there.

The whole neighborhood rejoiced at the marriage. There was no man, woman or child who had not pitied the unhappy Lord of Aldenmere, and shuddered at the darksome tragedy that had fallen over him, and now they rejoiced that he was to once more live as his fellowmen lived. One or two went beneath the surface and guessed the truth; that the woman he was marrying now was the only one he had ever really loved.

So, amid sunshine and blossoms, amid the pealing of joy-bells, and the joyous clash of music, amid good wishes and blessings, prayers from old and young, from rich and poor, Sir Ronald led his beautiful wife home.

To a home that was changed as he was himself, where brightness had given place to gloom, sighs to smiles, wretchedness to joy, sorrow to happiness: where once more the sun of life shone, and all rejoiced in its beams.

Lady Alden refused to comply with the old-fashioned institution of their taking a wedding tour.

“Let us go home, Ronald,” she said, when he asked her where she would like to spend the honeymoon. “Let us go home. There is no place I shall like or enjoy so much as Aldenmere.”

And he, only too happy to find that she would like his home, gladly complied with her wish.