He promised to do anything in the whole world.She then requested him to allow her to return,and announce him as having died of malignant ague immediately on their arrival at Paramaribo;that she should consequently appear in weeds as his widow in her native place;and that he would never molest her,or come again to that part of the world during the whole course of his life--a good reason for which would be that the legal consequences might be serious.
He readily acquiesced in this,as he would have acquiesced in anything for the restitution of one he adored so deeply--even to the yielding of life itself.To put her in an immediate state of independence he gave her,in bonds and jewels,a considerable sum (for his worldly means had been in no way exaggerated);and by the next ship she sailed again for England,having travelled no farther than to Paramaribo.At parting he declared it to be his intention to turn all his landed possessions into personal property,and to be a wanderer on the face of the earth in remorse for his conduct towards her.
Maria duly arrived in England,and immediately on landing apprised her uncle of her return,duly appearing at his house in the garb of a widow.She was commiserated by all the neighbours as soon as her story was told;but only to her uncle did she reveal the real state of affairs,and her reason for concealing it.For,though she had been innocent of wrong,Maria's pride was of that grain which could not brook the least appearance of having been fooled,or deluded,or nonplussed in her worldly aims.
For some time she led a quiet life with her relative,and in due course a son was born to her.She was much respected for her dignity and reserve,and the portable wealth which her temporary husband had made over to her enabled her to live in comfort in a wing of the mansion,without assistance from her uncle at all.But,knowing that she was not what she seemed to be,her life was an uneasy one,and she often said to herself:'Suppose his continued existence should become known here,and people should discern the pride of my motive in hiding my humiliation?It would be worse than if I had been frank at first,which I should have been but for the credit of this child.'
Such grave reflections as these occupied her with increasing force;and during their continuance she encountered a worthy man of noble birth and title--Lord Icenway his name--whose seat was beyond Wintoncester,quite at t'other end of Wessex.He being anxious to pay his addresses to her,Maria willingly accepted them,though he was a plain man,older than herself;for she discerned in a re-marriage a method of fortifying her position against mortifying discoveries.In a few months their union took place,and Maria lifted her head as Lady Icenway,and left with her husband and child for his home as aforesaid,where she was quite unknown.
A justification,or a condemnation,of her step (according as you view it)was seen when,not long after,she received a note from her former husband Anderling.It was a hasty and tender epistle,and perhaps it was fortunate that it arrived during the temporary absence of Lord Icenway.His worthless wife,said Anderling,had just died in Quebec;he had gone there to ascertain particulars,and had seen the unfortunate woman buried.He now was hastening to England to repair the wrong he had done his Maria.He asked her to meet him at Southampton,his port of arrival;which she need be in no fear of doing,as he had changed his name,and was almost absolutely unknown in Europe.He would remarry her immediately,and live with her in any part of the Continent,as they had originally intended,where,for the great love he still bore her,he would devote himself to her service for the rest of his days.
Lady Icenway,self-possessed as it was her nature to be,was yet much disturbed at this news,and set off to meet him,unattended,as soon as she heard that the ship was in sight.As soon as they stood face to face she found that she still possessed all her old influence over him,though his power to fascinate her had quite departed.In his sorrow for his offence against her,he had become a man of strict religious habits,self-denying as a lenten saint,though formerly he had been a free and joyous liver.Having first got him to swear to make her any amends she should choose (which he was imagining must be by a true marriage),she informed him that she had already wedded another husband,an excellent man of ancient family and possessions,who had given her a title,in which she much rejoiced.
At this the countenance of the poor foreign gentleman became cold as clay,and his heart withered within him;for as it had been her beauty and bearing which had led him to sin to obtain her,so,now that her beauty was in fuller bloom,and her manner more haughty by her success,did he feel her fascination to be almost more than he could bear.Nevertheless,having sworn his word,he undertook to obey her commands,which were simply a renewal of her old request--that he would depart for some foreign country,and never reveal his existence to her friends,or husband,or any person in England;never trouble her more,seeing how great a harm it would do her in the high position which she at present occupied.
He bowed his head.'And the child--our child?'he said.
'He is well,'says she.'Quite well.'
With this the unhappy gentleman departed,much sadder in his heart than on his voyage to England;for it had never occurred to him that a woman who rated her honour so highly as Maria had done,and who was the mother of a child of his,would have adopted such means as this for the restoration of that honour,and at so surprisingly early a date.He had fully calculated on making her his wife in law and truth,and of living in cheerful unity with her and his offspring,for whom he felt a deep and growing tenderness,though he had never once seen the child.
