He prayeth best who loveth most
All things both great and small,
For the good God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.
--Coleridge.
To account for the strange visit of the countess to Hannah Worth we must
change the scene to Brudenell Hall.
From the time of her sudden arrival at her husband's house, every hour
had been fraught with suffering to Berenice.
In the first instance, where she had expected to give a joyful surprise,
she had only given a painful shock; where she had looked for a cordial
welcome, she had received a cold repulse; finally, where she had hoped
her presence would confer happiness, it had brought misery!
On the very evening of her arrival her husband, after meeting her with
reproaches, had fled from the house, leaving no clew to his destination,
and giving no reason for his strange proceeding.
Berenice did not understand this. She cast her memory back through all
the days of her short married life spent with Herman Brudenell, and she
sought diligently for anything in her conduct that might have given him
offense. She could find nothing. Neither in all their intercourse had he
ever accused her of any wrong-doing. On the contrary, he had been
profuse in words of admiration, protestations of love and fidelity. Now
what had caused this fatal change in his feelings and conduct towards
her? Berenice could not tell. Her mind was as thoroughly perplexed as
her heart was deeply wounded. At first she did not know that he was gone
forever. She thought that he would return in an hour or two and openly
accuse her of some fault, or that he would in some manner betray the
cause of offense which he must suppose she had given him. And then,
feeling sure of her innocence, she knew she could exonerate herself from
every shadow of blame--except from that of loving him too well, if he
should consider that a fault.
Therefore she waited patiently for his return; but when the night passed
and he had not come, she grew more and more uneasy, and when the next
day had passed without his making his appearance her uneasiness rose to
intolerable anxiety.
The visit of poor Nora at night had aroused at once her suspicions, her
jealousy, and her compassion. She half believed that in this girl she
saw her rival in her husband's affections, the cause of her own
repudiation and--what was more bitter still to the childless Hebrew
wife--the mother of his children! This had been very terrible! But to
the Jewish woman the child of her husband, even if it is at the same
time the child of her rival, is as sacred as her own. Berenice was
loyal, conscientious, and compassionate. In the anguish of her own
deeply wounded and bleeding heart she had pitied and pleaded for poor
Nora--had even asserted her own authority as mistress of the house, for
the sake of protecting Nora: her husband's other wife, as in the
merciful construction of her gentle spirit she had termed the unhappy
girl! But then, my readers, you must remember that Berenice was a
Jewess. This poor unloved Leah would have sheltered the beloved Rachel.
We all know how her generous intentions were carried out. A second and a
third day passed, and still there came no news of Herman.