<h2> Chapter 16 </h2><br/>
<br/>
<p>The violent fever into which I had fallen did not abate until
the third day, when I fell into a profound slumber, from
which I woke refreshed and saved. I did not, on awakening,
find myself in my own familiar cell, but in a spacious
apartment new to me, on a comfortable bed, beside which Edra
was seated. Almost my first feeling was one of disappointment
at not seeing Yoletta there, and presently I began to fear
that in the ravings of delirium I had spoken things which had
plucked the scales from the eyes of my kind friends in a very
rough way indeed, and that the being I loved best had been
permanently withdrawn from my sight. It was a blessed relief
when Edra, in answer to the questions I put with some
heart-quakings to her, informed me that I had talked a great
deal in my fever, but unintelligibly, continually asking
questions about Venus, Diana, Juno, and many other persons
whose names had never before been heard in the house. How
fortunate that my crazy brain had thus continued vexing
itself with this idle question! She also told me that Yoletta
had watched day and night at my side, that at last, when the
fever left me, and I had fallen into that cooling slumber,
she too, with her hand on mine, had dropped her head on the
pillow and fallen asleep. Then, without waking her, they had
carried her away to her own room, and Edra had taken her
place by my side.</p>
<p>"Have you nothing more to ask?" she said at length, with an
accent of surprise.</p>
<p>"No; nothing more. What you have told me has made me very
happy—what more can I wish to know?"</p>
<p>"But there is more to tell you, Smith. We know now that your
illness is the result of your own imprudence; and as soon as
you are well enough to leave your room and bear it, you must
suffer the punishment."</p>
<p>"What! Punished for being ill!" I exclaimed, sitting bolt
upright in my bed. "What do you mean, Edra? I never heard
such outrageous nonsense in my life!"</p>
<p>She was disturbed at this outburst, but quietly and gravely
repeated that I must certainly be punished for my illness.</p>
<p>Remembering what their punishments were, I had the prospect
of a second long separation from Yoletta, and the thought of
such excessive severity, or rather of such cruel injustice,
made me wild. "By Heaven, I shall not submit to it!" I
exclaimed. "Punished for being ill—who ever heard of
such a thing! I suppose that by-and-by it will be discovered
that the bridge of my nose is not quite straight, or that I
can't see round the corner, and that also will be set down as
a crime, to be expiated in solitary confinement, on a
bread-and-water diet! No, you shall not punish me; rather
than give in to such tyranny I'll walk off and leave the
house for ever!"</p>
<p>She regarded me with an expression almost approaching to
horror on her gentle face, and for some moments made no
reply. Then I remembered that if I carried out that insane
threat I should indeed lose Yoletta, and the very thought of
such a loss was more than I could endure; and for a moment I
almost hated the love which made me so helpless and
miserable—so powerless to oppose their stupid and
barbarous practices. It would have been sweet then to have
felt free—free to fling them a curse, and go away,
shaking the dust of their house from my shoes, supposing that
any dust had adhered to them.</p>
<p>Then Edra began to speak again, and gravely and sorrowfully,
but without a touch of austerity in her tone or manner,
censured me for making use of such irrational language, and
for allowing bitter, resentful thoughts to enter my heart.
But the despondence and sullen rage into which I had been
thrown made me proof even against the medicine of an
admonition imparted so gently, and, turning my face away, I
stubbornly refused to make any reply. For a while she was
silent, but I misjudged her when I imagined that she would
now leave me, offended, to my own reflections.</p>
<p>"Do you not know that you are giving me pain?" she said at
last, drawing a little closer to me. "A little while ago you
told me that you loved me: has that feeling faded so soon, or
do you take any pleasure in wounding those you love?"</p>
<p>Her words, and, more than her words, her tender, pleading
tone, pierced me with compunction, and I could not resist.
"Edra, my sweet sister, do not imagine such a thing!" I said.
"I would rather endure many punishments than give you pain.
My love for you cannot fade while I have life and
understanding. It is in me like greenness in the
leaf—that beautiful color which can only be changed by
sere decay."</p>
<p>She smiled forgiveness, and with a humid brightness in her
eyes, which somehow made me think of that joy of the angels
over one sinner that repenteth, bent down and touched her
lips to mine. "How can you love any one more than that,
Smith?" she said. "Yet you say that your love for Yoletta
exceeds all others."</p>
<p>"Yes, dear, exceeds all others, as the light of the sun
exceeds that of the moon and the stars. Can you not
understand that—has no man ever loved you with a love
like that, my sister?"</p>
<p>She shook her head and sighed. Did she not understand my
meaning now—had not my words brought back some sweet
and sorrowful memory? With her hands folded idly on her lap,
and her face half averted, she sat gazing at nothing. It
seemed impossible that this woman, so tender and so
beautiful, should never have experienced in herself or
witnessed in another, the feeling I had questioned her about.
But she made no further reply to my words; and as I lay there
watching her, the drowsy spirit the fever had left in me
overcame my brain, and I slept once more.</p>
<p>For several days, which brought me so little strength that I
was not permitted to leave the sick-room, I heard nothing
further about my punishment, for I purposely refrained from
asking any questions, and no person appeared inclined to
bring forward so disagreeable a subject. At length I was
pronounced well enough to go about the house, although still
very feeble, and I was conducted, not to the judgment-room,
where I had expected to be taken, but to the Mother's Room;
and there I found the father of the house, seated with
Chastel, and with them seven or eight of the others. They all
welcomed me, and seemed glad to see me out again; but I could
not help remarking a certain subdued, almost solemn air about
them, which seemed to remind me that I was regarded as an
offender already found guilty, who had now been brought up to
receive judgment.</p>
<p>"My son," said the father, addressing me in a calm, judicial
tone which at once put my last remaining hopes to flight, "it
is a consolation to us to know that your offense is of such a
nature that it cannot diminish our esteem for you, or loosen
the bonds of affection which unite you to us. You are still
feeble, and perhaps a little confused in mind concerning the
events of the last few days: I do not therefore press you to
give an account of them, but shall simply state your offense,
and if I am mistaken in any particular you shall correct me.
The great love you have for Yoletta," he continued—and
at this I started and blushed painfully, but the succeeding
words served to show that I had only too little cause for
alarm—"the great love you have for Yoletta caused you
much suffering during her thirty days' seclusion from us, so
that you lost all enjoyment of life, and eating little, and
being in continual dejection, your strength was much
diminished. On the last day you were so much excited at the
prospect of reunion with her, that you went to your task in
the woods almost fasting, and probably after spending a
restless night. Tell me if this is not so?"</p>
<p>"I did not sleep that night," I replied, somewhat huskily.</p>
<p>"Unrefreshed by sleep and with lessened strength," he
continued, "you went to the woods, and in order to allay that
excitement in your mind, you labored with such energy that by
noon you had accomplished a task which, in another and calmer
condition of mind and body, would have occupied you more than
one day. In thus acting you had already been guilty of a
serious offense against yourself; but even then you might
have escaped the consequences if, after finishing your work,
you had rested and refreshed yourself with food and drink.
This, however, you neglected to do; for when you had fallen
insensible to the earth, and Yoletta had called the dog and
sent it to the house to summon assistance, the food you had
taken with you was found untasted in the basket. Your life
was thus placed in great peril; and although it is good to
lay life down when it has become a burden to ourselves and
others, being darkened by that failure of power from which
there is no recovery, wantonly or carelessly to endanger it
in the flower of its strength and beauty is a great folly and
a great offense. Consider how deep our grief would have been,
especially the grief of Yoletta, if this culpable disregard
of your own safety and well-being had ended fatally, as it
came so near ending! It is therefore just and righteous that
an offense of such a nature should be recompensed; but it is
a light offense, not like one committed against the house, or
even against another person, and we also remember the
occasion of it, since it was no unworthy motive, but
exceeding love, which clouded your judgment, and therefore,
taking all these things into account, it was my intention to
put you away from us for the space of thirteen days."</p>
<p>Here he paused, as if expecting me to make some reply. He had
reproved me so gently, even approving of the emotion,
although still entirely in the dark as to its meaning, which
had caused my illness, that I was made to feel very
submissive, and even grateful to him.</p>
<p>"It is only just," I replied, "that I should suffer for my
fault, and you have tempered justice with more mercy than I
deserve."</p>
<p>"You speak with the wisdom of a chastened spirit, my son," he
said, rising and placing his hand on my head; "and your words
gladden me all the more for knowing that you were filled with
surprise and resentment when told that your offense was one
deserving punishment. And now, my son, I have to tell you
that you will not be separated from us, for the mother of the
house has willed that your offense shall be pardoned."</p>
<p>I looked in surprise at Chastel, for this was very
unexpected: she was gazing at my face with the light of a
strange tenderness in her eyes, never seen there before. She
extended her hand, and, kneeling before her, I took it in
mine and raised it to my lips, and tried, with poor success,
to speak my thanks for this rare and beautiful act of mercy.
Then the others surrounded me to express their
congratulations, the men pressing my hands, but not so the
women, for they all freely kissed me; but when Yoletta,
coming last, put her white arms about my neck and pressed her
lips to mine, the ecstasy I felt was so greatly overbalanced
by the pain of my position, and the thought, now almost a
conviction, that I was powerless to enlighten them with
regard to the nature of the love I felt for her, that I
almost shrank from her dear embrace.</p>
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