Confession - Page 161/274

Thus she raved. My conscience applied these stinging words of scorn,

which seemed particularly fitted to the mean suspicious watch which

I had kept upon her. I could have no thought that they were meant

for any other ears than my own, and the crimson flush upon my

cheeks was the involuntary acknowledgment which my soul made of the

demerits of my unmanly conduct. I fancied that Julia had detected

my espionage, and that her language had this object in reference

only. But there were other words; and, passing with unexpected

transition from the language of dislike and scorn, she now

indulged in that of love--language timidly suggestive of love, as

if its utterance were restrained by bashfulness, as if it dreaded

to be heard. Then a deep sigh followed, as if from the bottom of

her heart, succeeded by convulsive sobs, at last ending in a gushing

flood of tears.

For the space of half an hour I had been an attentive but suffering

listener to this wild raving. My pangs followed every sentence

from her lips, believing, as I did, that they were reproachful

of myself, and associated with a now unrestrained expression of

passion for another. Gradually I had ceased, in the deep interest

which I felt, to be conscious that Mrs. Delaney was present. I

leaned across the couch; I bent my ear down toward the lips of the

speaker, eager to drink up every feeble sound which might help to

elucidate my doubts, and subdue or confirm my suspicions. Then,

as the accumulating conviction formed itself, embodied and sharp,

like a knife, into my soul, I groaned aloud, and my teeth were

gnashed together in the bitterness of my emotion! In that moment I

caught the keen gray eyes of my mother-in-law fixed upon me, with

a jibing expression, which spoke volumes of mockery. They seemed

to say, "Ah! you have it now! The truth is forced upon you at last!

You can parry it no longer. I see the iron in your soul. I behold

and enjoy your contortions!"

Fiend language! She was something of a fiend! I started from the

bedside, and just then a flood of tears came to the relief of my

wife, and lessened the excitement of her brain. The tears relieved

her. The paroxysm passed away. She turned her eyes upon me, and

closed them involuntarily, while a deep crimson tint passed over

her cheek, a blush, which seemed to me to confirm substantially

the tenor of that language in which, while delirious, she had

so constantly indulged. It did not lessen the seeming shame and

dislike which her countenance appeared at once to embody, that

a soft sweet smile was upon her lips at the same moment, and she

extended to me her hand with an air of confidence which staggered

and surprised me.