Chapter IV: The Subjection of Alice

Oh! bid me leap, rather than marry Paris,
From off the battlements of yonder tower.
_—Shakspere._

Now see that noble and most sovereign reason
Like sweet bells jangled out of tune and harsh!
That unmatched form and feature of blown youth
Blasted with ecstasy!
_—Ibid._

After this terrible family storm, in which poor Mrs. Chester’s vital powers had suddenly failed, the peace stern death enforces reigned through the house. Alice, her heart and brain overturned by endurance, lay exhausted, almost insensible, upon her bed within her chamber.

General Garnet had taken himself off to the village tavern, whence he had been invited to pass a week or two, at Point Yocomoco, the seat of Judge Wylie.

Mr. Sinclair, in the disinterested kindness of his heart, remained at the house, superintending and directing everything, unquestioned by Colonel Chester, who, when he met, recognized him with a sigh or a groan. He remained until the funeral was over, and the house restored to its former order, and departed without seeing Alice, who, still prostrated, had not left her room. And after this, as Colonel Chester had not revoked his prohibition, he came to the house no more.

As days glided into weeks Alice recovered a portion of her strength, left the chamber, and mournfully went about her customary occupations.

Poor Alice! her spirit was very willing, but her nerves were very weak. So it was with a pang of fear that Alice heard her father at the breakfast table one morning announce the expected arrival of General Garnet that evening. Yes, Colonel Chester, thinking that now perhaps sufficient time had elapsed since her mother’s death—and sufficient strength and cheerfulness had returned to his daughter—had recalled her suitor. Alice was trembling violently—she dared not look up. She had been taught to love and venerate her father above all earthly beings, and next to God. She loved and venerated him still, and kept her thoughts reverently away from investigating his motive and judging his conduct. She had been taught to bow with implicit and reverential obedience to his will. To oppose him had not been easy in her thought—it was terrible in practice. It would have been terrible to her had her father been a man of moderate temper and self-control; but he was a man of violent and ungovernable passion; and Alice was in an agony of terror when she faltered out:

“Father, if General Garnet comes here only as your guest, I will welcome him with every possible attention; I will try to make him feel at home, and endeavor to render his sojourn with us in every other way agreeable; but if he comes here as my suitor——” Here her voice died away.

“Well!”

It is impossible to convey the short, curt, galvanic strength and abruptness with which he jerked, as it were, this syllable out, and brought Alice up. It was like throwing the lasso suddenly around her neck, and jerking her up face to face with him. And such a face! It is impossible to paint the grim determination of the locked jaws, armed with the wiry stubble beard, bristled up with fierceness, and the ferocity of the darkly-gathered frown that screwed his glance upon her pallid face, that screwed it into her very brain. Alice turned deadly sick, her eyes filmed over, and she sank back in her chair. She did not faint or lose consciousness, for the next instant she felt her father’s iron hand upon her fragile shoulder, and her father’s awful voice in that low, deep, suppressed tone of fierce, immutable determination, saying:

“Miss Chester, it is not as your suitor, but as your husband, that General Garnet will come this evening. I command you to receive him as such.”

And he left her.