Part 10

Still voiceless, Fidunia, with lagging footsteps, ascended the steep hill. Her energy was gone; she leant heavily on Domenichino's arm, and but for his aid must have fallen more than once exhausted by the way. At last the castle was reached. In answer to her signal the faithful esquire knocked at his master's turret door. An impatient voice bade them enter. Antiphates himself, stumbling hastily to meet them, started as he took Fidunia's cold hand in his. She gently withstood his eager inquiries and solicitude for her health. "Sire," she murmured, "I am very weary, but these poor hands must this night bathe your eyes."

At her words the King, obedient, sank on a couch near at hand, and Fidunia, dipping her fingers into the golden goblet, timidly pressed them again and again over his burning eyelids. Her cool, soft touch soothed his irritated nerves and brought refreshing peace to his restless mind. A strange calm folded its enshadowing wings around those busy brows and wrapt the imperious monarch in a sweet and childlike slumber.

Raising her finger again to her lips, in token of silence, and signing to Domenichino to leave his sovereign for the night, Fidunia quitted the turret chamber and sought her own apartment. Here the listening Fido greeted her approaching footsteps with a whine of delight, and testified his joy at her return by many expressive gambols.

Long into the night she sat on her balcony, acting over in thought again and again the exciting scenes of that eventful evening. It seemed to her she had only just fallen asleep when she was suddenly startled from her slumbers by a loud pæan of rejoicing blown from the castle wall by the silver trumpets.

For a moment recollection failed her, but then glad certainty flashed on her mind, and, as if to make assurance doubly sure, some of the women of the palace, rushing abruptly into her chamber, confirmed the glad tidings. They urged her to arise and dress in haste, for the King could not rest till he had seen and thanked his deliverer in person.

Fidunia hurriedly arrayed herself. Accompanied by Fido, she hastened along the now well-known passages of the palace. She ascended the broad stairs and passed the tall guards in the corridor, with their nodding plumes. The doors of the presence chamber were thrown open before her. On the threshold she stood a moment irresolute. Then, notwithstanding their intimacy, knowing his newly-gained power, she advanced timidly towards the great King. There was a pause, she raised her eyes to his. The monarch seemed transformed! Instead of half-closed, unseeing eyes, and all the accompanying hesitation and uncertainty, two searching orbs now bent their dark majesty full on the bashful maiden. In that one moment she drank in the fatal secret, which no after-words could disguise.

It was but too true!

A passionate adorer of beauty, Antiphates had, during the past months, almost unknown to himself, clothed his unseen love with perfect loveliness. His heart therefore beat high with expectation as her footfall was heard at the door, and when, with her attendant Fido, she entered alone, he could not control the impulse of disappointment too plainly written on his expressive, speaking countenance.

The dawn of light on his long-darkened orbs revealed to him the unattractive colouring and irregular features of the being he had in blindness learned to adore, and no self-command on his part could conceal from love's unerring instinct his change of mood.

Now, however, with well-simulated alacrity, he rose from his throne. Stepping down with a free, unfettered gait, widely different from his wonted stumbling manner, he took the maiden's hand in his own. Pouring confused and hurried thanks into her ear, he led her to the seat where she had passed so many happy hours.

In vain he strove to conjure back the fascination Fidunia once possessed for him. Oh! subtle influence! who can accurately define the thrilling tie that makes the one we love different from all the world beside? who, when the frail chain of enchantment is once severed, can join again those mystic links?

The King and Fidunia conversed in low tones, apparently unchanged: the gay courtiers around at least observed no cloud on the horizon. Waiting within call, they clustered eagerly around Domenichino to hear his adventures of the previous night, and to discuss together the approaching marriage of the maiden, now beloved by all, with their fortune-favoured prince. They recked not of the cold shadow that crept slowly into the little maid's heart, and clouded her fair and hitherto untroubled sky.

Fido alone, close and vigilant, marked the awakening sorrow of his beloved mistress. He felt the hand that caressed him grow cold and pulseless. He noted the accent of despair in Fidunia's choking voice. His unsophisticated nature rose indignant at the selfishness of the human friend, who (after such vows breathed, and responded to by her to whom they were addressed), could change and grow indifferent to the being who had gone through so much for his sake.

How true it is that maidens, like flowers, expand in the presence of him they love, in the warm sunshine of adoration. When that cheering beam is withdrawn, how colourless and scentless, how devoid of beauty, do their drooping blossoms become!

Even so it was with Fidunia, the happy light that had of late dawned in her gray eyes now faded away. Hour after hour she wept alone on her sleepless pillow, sadly musing over times departed,

"Departed never to return."

One wakeful night she poured out her thoughts in these words:

The silent hour of night prevailed, the Earth Was in her first and dewy slumber, while The Moon unveiled her pure and peerless light, And threw her radiance o'er the dusky haunts Of men. An atom on the world's broad breast Alone, beneath those chilly beams I mused, On Death and Immortality. My soul Sped swiftly upward on the ethereal ray, And left enthralled the grosser part of self, The slumbering mortal portion of my frame.

* * * * *

The spirit world was gained, and for a space Enchantment wove mine aching heart a strange Bright web of many hued delight. She gave To that brief Dream all the reality That made its flying moments passing sweet. The kindly echoes lent their magic aid, And tones reverberated in mine ear Whose music gently whispered rapture, not Of Earth, but of some far-off lovely Land, A Time when all that is not yet may be.

* * * * *

With trembling sigh, from happiness too great, I all unknowing broke the mystic spell, And shivering back, through dark and dreary ways, No Moon to guide the weary feet, no Light To cheer the falling spirit, once again Within dull clay poor Psyche found her home, And woke to bitter loneliness and woe.

She had in truth a rough awakening from her dream of happiness. As day by day the restless monarch showed more and more the change in his feelings that perfect vision had wrought, Fidunia not only passed through the deep waters of sorrow in realizing his alienation, but experienced moreover a fresh and equally poignant pain as the veil of illusion fell from her disenchanted eyes, and taught the simple-hearted young girl that she could never again regard her monarch with the same trusting faith.

To one of hasty impulsive temperament like Antiphates, dissimulation proved impossible: however much he was bound, alike by the ties of honour and of gratitude, to keep the vows publicly pledged to his deliverer, he could not forgive the hapless girl her lack of outward beauty. He valued not the delicate refinement of her nature. He marked not the ethereal spirit that shone unconquerable through her transparent eye. His affection had been of the earth, earthy; evanescent as frail mortality itself.

Nor was Fidunia's spirit formed in a mould to sicken and die of unrequited affection. In happier days, the happiest of her short life, she had, in spite of the vast difference in their ages, learned to regard the gifted King with something akin to reverential love. The eager wooing of one so talented and fascinating could not fail to produce some corresponding effect on the imagination of the forest maiden. Not unsolicited she had yielded up her gentle heart, and come gradually to centre all the hopes and thoughts of her young life upon Antiphates.

She now grew to spend longer hours each day in wandering round the precincts of Xylina. The child of nature, she ever found her truest solace beneath the wide canopy of heaven. There no walls pent in her labouring sobs, no human eye beheld the slowly falling tears, mourners over a vanished past, that welled up one by one from her burning heart; tears that slowly rising, purified still further her much afflicted spirit, and weaned her soul from the earthly love which for a time had satisfied that strange immortal portion of mortality.

Fido, ever beside his mistress, grew like her, pensive and forlorn. He knew she was in grief, and his mute sympathy gave her comfort, as together they climbed through the mazy wood, or explored the hills that rose behind the castle.

In these wanderings, Fidunia came frequently to a knoll, commanding the lovely expanse of waters beneath. Looking across the broad bay of Deva, the horizon was bounded only by the fair island of Spera, so fraught with memory's brightest records. Here upon a bank of wild thyme, sheltered by the cool olive trees, and fanned by the passing breeze, she pondered over her mysterious lot, and shudderingly thought of the blank untrodden future.

But counsel and comfort already approached. One day as she thus sat, rapt and musing, a gentle voice addressed her; turning half alarmed, she beheld the sweetest face her eyes had ever dwelt upon. That countenance shone with heaven-born beauty. "Sister Angela" (for thus the stranger was called) had also sorrowed, but she had found lasting comfort in the convent of Saint Sebastian. This monastery was near at hand, though partially concealed by the dense foliage and the masses of creepers which clothed its outer walls. Angela had oftentimes seen and yearned over the sorrowful young girl, and at last, issuing forth, ventured to greet her.

She tenderly saluted Fidunia, who, before long, learnt to love and trust her new friend. She soon came daily to seek for guidance and comfort at her hands, confiding to Angela's sympathizing ears the chequered story of her brief life.

Meantime, to add still further to the griefs of poor Fidunia, her little dog disappeared. She first missed him one afternoon as, after long converse with her new found friend, she turned to descend the grassy slopes to Castle Xylina.

During those hours she had formed a high and holy resolution. Alone in the world, she aspired to become one of the sisterhood to whom Angela belonged, and to find an asylum for her wearied wounded heart within the sacred walls of Saint Sebastian.

On reaching the Castle, Fidunia sought everywhere for Fido, but no one had seen him, or could tell whither he had gone. While occupied in threading the long passages and calling anxiously for her missing companion, she met Domenichino hastening to entreat her attendance on the King. Without returning to her chamber to alter her attire, Fidunia turned and accompanied him to the royal presence.

Antiphates met her at the entrance of the hall. In kind yet constrained tones the monarch condoled with her as he heard of Fido's disappearance. He gave orders moreover that the strictest search should at once be instituted throughout Deva and its environs for Fidunia's dear little favourite.

"But now," continued the King, leading her to a deep embrasure, whence could be seen the fair landscape beneath, "I am anxious you should name the day for the ceremony that is to unite the debtor to his mistress, and thus permit me to fulfil my plighted troth." So saying, he carried her hand lightly to his lips, and looked searchingly upon her. But even his bold eyes fell rebuked beneath Fidunia's pure enquiring gaze, now divested of all hesitation or embarrassment. No word of reproach for his altered behaviour towards her, since she had restored his sight, fell from her. No murmur escaped her. But her voice quavered as, in a few simple sentences, she unfolded to him the purpose she had that day formed of taking upon herself the vows of Saint Sebastian.

A sense of momentary shame at his own want of generosity dyed the King's rough cheek a deeper hue. He felt his inability to urge Fidunia with any zest to renounce her lofty aspirations. He strove to conceal his satisfaction, but he knew too well that her voluntary self-devotion relieved him from a perplexing dilemma.

Nevertheless he cast about in his mind for some form of remonstrance; but before he could frame the words on his unwilling lips, she was gone.

Stung to her inmost heart by the inscrutable changes in his variable nature, and already overwrought by the day's emotions, the hapless Fidunia only reached her chamber in time to shut from every human eye her deadly struggle, her last overwhelming battle with wounded mortal love.

Days slowly elapsed without intelligence of Fido, and the arrangements became gradually completed by which, upon the Festival of All Saints, Fidunia was to enter her noviciate.

All Hallow's Eve drew near. On the morrow the lonely Fidunia was to bid farewell to the outer world, and rest her wearied tempest-tossed head within the peaceful cloistered shades.

She sought her luxurious chamber for the last time, and unfastening the window, stepped out on the broad balcony. The glorious full moon once more illuminated with clear cold light each beloved object in the exquisite panorama so dear to her.

Human sorrow asserted its own in the maiden's breast, as in spirit she bade farewell to the slumbering monarch who, for a brief period, had been her sun and firmament, the "all" for which in the forest depths her innocent soul had insensibly pined.

A sudden pattering footstep sounded near, and looking inwards, lo! through the moonlit chamber, approached the truant Fido. In the imperfect light he seemed faint and weary; but Fidunia sprang to meet him, and raised and fondled the little wanderer in her arms, asking him the while many a question about his strange absence, half reproaching him for his desertion.

As she held the little dog close to her breast, rejoicing over his return, she felt something of a novel character around his neck. She gently unfastened a cord, and found attached to it a small phial carefully sealed, yet emitting a wondrous fragrance.

Somehow assuming from her companion's quiescent attitude that the flask was for her own use, she slipped it into her bosom, and forgetting all else, again yielded herself to vague yearnings over the unfulfilled visions of the past. It was long before she stepped from the window, and placing Fido on the ground prepared for her last night's rest in the palace.

As she let down the now lengthened tresses of her thick hair, Fido though evidently exhausted, refused to lie down. Seemingly ill at ease, he watched her every movement with painful anxiety. When at length she drew near the marble bath, wherein she nightly plunged, his agitation knew no bounds, and as in undressing she displaced the phial from her garments he uttered a series of short sharp barks restlessly springing the while backwards and forwards from his mistress to the edge of the alcove. So close was the companionship between Fidunia and her faithful companion, that she at once divined his meaning, and undoing the seal and extracting the stopper from the bottle, she emptied its contents into the water. Scarcely had she done so when the whole chamber became filled with a delicious perfume. As one in a trance, half overcome by the powerful scent, Fidunia entered her bath, and felt at once the extraordinary invigorating power which seemed to emanate from those few drops of liquid.

All sorrow was lifted from her heart. Already in imagination she joined in the sweet praiseful strains of the Sebastian sisters. Angelic forms moved around her, and the moon's pale rays at length guided the weary maiden to her pillow. Stretching out one soft arm over her faithful dog, lying in his cot by her side, and lulled by a foretaste of heaven's own music, Fidunia sank into dreams of ecstatic beauty.

The loud pealing of a thousand bells for the Festival of All Saints at last awoke the neophyte from her deep repose. For a moment she started and half forgot her resting place; but her eye fell upon her little dog. Something strange in his attitude struck her. Startled, she sprang to her feet and bent over him.

His sleep was surely very deep! Yes, Fidunia! sound are those slumbers from which not even the touch of thy beloved hand can rouse his wearied form, or call forth a response from the wistful eyes, wont to hang upon thy lightest gesture.

With an exceeding bitter cry, Fidunia fell beside her lost favourite and vainly chafed his stiffening limbs. As she stooped over him, her eyes swimming in tears, she perceived in the morning light a small scroll lying on the floor by his couch. She hastily raised it, and noted "This for Fidunia" traced upon the outer covering. She tore it open, and through the mists of sorrow that perpetually dimmed her vision, she read these words:

"Sweet daughter, when thou readest this, thy faithful servant will be no more. Know that the little dog, Fido, through many past days and nights hath mourned over thine exceeding sorrow and thy low estate.

"He held thee altogether lovely, but he knew from human fellowship that those who owed most to thy labours, my child, had weighed thine outward beauty in the balance and found it wanting. He watched thine affliction till his own heart went nigh to break; and then, calling to remembrance my counsels and assistance to thee, he left thy side, and through many hardships and with great fatigue he gained once more my little cottage by the wide and spreading common. I made known to him that the gift of earthly beauty could only be thine through the self-sacrifice of one who loved thee to the death. Thy faithful companion hath cheerfully laid down his sinless existence for thy dear sake.

"Heaven guard thee and guide thee, Fidunia!

"ANNA."

As Fidunia, penetrated to her very inmost soul by the dying fidelity of her beloved dog, sank again over his inanimate frame, a loud and persistent knocking made itself heard at her chamber door. She had barely time to cast on her outer garments before the palace women, alarmed by her first cry, and hearing no response to their summons, thrust open the door and drew inquisitively near the weeping maiden.

Fidunia rose from her knees, and casting an indignant look on the amazed intruders, she exclaimed, "Behold your thoughtless work! It was through you and yours that my poor dog learnt the small esteem in which his mistress was held, and has thus been goaded to his death."

No answer came from the gathering throng. Awed and abashed, they herded together. Whence came the ineffable beauty that sat upon Fidunia's brow, and cast a radiance over her shining hair? That it was the forest maiden none could doubt, but how exquisitely soft and fair her lineaments, as standing in the morning sun before her dead comrade's couch, she gave vent to her feelings of passionate reproach.

At this moment Domenichino, hastily entering, heralded the King's approach. The news of the death of Fido and of Fidunia's miraculous and new-born beauty had spread like wild-fire through the Castle.

Antiphates, no less bewildered than his subjects, hesitated half awe-struck on the threshold of the young girl's chamber, which he now for the first time proposed to enter. Recovering himself promptly, however, with an imperious gesture he signed to his surrounding people to leave the apartment, and then slowly advanced to the now silent but still weeping Fidunia.

In bygone days, all unknown to the sightless monarch, the very sound of his approaching footsteps had power to suffuse her cheek with blushes. Now coldly conscious of his presence, she stood before him without responsive sign, the loveliest creature upon God's wide earth, the realized ideal of his fairest dreams.

Wrapped in her white morning robe, with her yet unbound hair falling back in rich clustering masses from her pure pale brow and pearly skin of dazzling whiteness; a solemn depth shone from her dark blue eyes, bearing still a wealth of tears unshed; while a faint evanescent colour like the transparent petal of the wood anemone played upon her rounded cheek.

All unknown to herself, clothed in this wondrous panoply of beauty, Fidunia awaited her sovereign's commands. To her unspeakable surprise the monarch seemed overcome with some unbidden emotion. Again and again he vainly assayed to speak; at length, drawing near, he bent his proud knee before her, and in agitated tones besought her pardon.

"Sire," replied Fidunia, "as regards myself, I have little to forgive, but would that my dumb companion had been spared the knowledge that hath cost him his faithful life."

"Oh, Fidunia!" cried the enamoured Prince, "forget these sad weeks wherein we have suffered disquiet, and during which untoward shadows have obscured my vision, and consent, as you once promised, to be my bride. I swear to you, my darling," continued he, pressing closer to the shrinking girl, "that in my love and tender care you shall find consolation even for the death of your poor lost favourite."

With an effort Fidunia extricated her hand from his nervous grasp, and the red flush of indignation mounting higher and higher, she exclaimed, "Nay, my liege, this is neither the time nor the place wherein to renew the vows which of late have sat so light on thy heart and conscience. Here in the presence of the faithful dead, spare me, I pray thee, all reference to the unfaithful past. That chapter is closed for ever. On this morning, with thy free consent, I take upon myself new and holy vows. Yes," repeated she, raising her speaking eyes to the glorious eastern sky, "I am accounted worthy to become the lowly bride of Heaven." And as if in confirmation of her words, a gust of wind brought faintly to their ears, through the wide open window, the glad chiming of the Saint Sebastian bells, ringing in anticipation of the ceremonial of the day.

"Now by my crown and kingdom," whispered Antiphates, in burning ardent tones, "that thou never shalt become, for mine thou art and mine thou shalt remain while I have life and power to keep thee." So saying he sprang to his feet and enfolding Fidunia in his arms, pressed her fiercely to his breast.

Weary and distraught, and well nigh overcome with the struggle, as she felt the loud pulsations of his throbbing heart, and experienced the mesmeric influence of strong earthly passion, the sorely bestead maiden breathed from her fainting soul an earnest prayer for guidance; and her silent petition for aid in the hour of need was answered.

A low strain of music sounded through the chamber, and the reluctant King involuntarily released his trembling captive, as the door slowly opening admitted two by two the veiled and white arrayed sisters of Saint Sebastian coming to adorn their promised novice for the approaching ceremony.

In vain the distracted Prince commanded them to pause in their holy duties, in vain he implored Fidunia to delay even for a day her irrevocable vows.