Originally published in Reynolds's Miscellany of Romance, General Literature, Science, and Art (John Dicks) vol.8 #197 (17 Apr 1852).
In a stately old mansion, situated on the borders of one of our beautiful and romantic northern lakes, were assembled a goodly company of the friends and relatives of the owner, a fine specimen of the old English gentleman. As he was particularly fond of gathering around him all that was splendid and beautiful, you may easily imagine the scene which the evening drawing-room presented when diamonds and lights, ladies and pearls, were outvying each other in brilliancy. Superior to all the rest, the daughter of the host carried away the palm of beauty. But in her beautiful eyes was an expression of severity which repulsed rather than attracted, and a majesty which alarmed in stead of commanding. Edith spoke but little; a sarcastic smile playing round her mouth, a haughty though graceful movement of her head, laden as it was with an abundance of glossy black ringlets, was her chief language; and even with such language as this, she could be more eloquent than any other. She was considered to be a most intellectual damsel; and such indeed she always proved herself to be, whenever she was pleased to unseal her lips.
One evening an excursion on the lake was about to come off. The host accompanied the party to the water where the boats were waiting. The lake was calm: there was not the slightest wind to ruffle its surface. A band of music, stationed on its margin, was sending forth sweet sounds, like so many greetings from the water-nymphs. The boats were soon filled with ladies and gentlemen, and started on the excursion. Edith's boat was alone left behind, till a gentleman, running from the mansion, jumped hastily into it, and taking the oars in his hands, used them with so much skill and dexterity, that he was soon in advance of all the other boats. The old mansion lessened in the distance; the margin of the lake was more and more lost to the view, when Edith for the first time threw a look on her dexterous boatman. Though she had often met him in the mansion of her father, yet in her haughty disdain she had never condescended to bestow a single attention on him. She now felt that she was the object of his close observation; yet he spoke not a word. She, who generally overpowered the others by her majestic silence, was now, in her turn, overawed by the silence of her mute companion. Did she fear to undergo examination? No! in her pride she was inclined to attribute his silence to a want of manners; but when her eye again fell upon his youthful and finely proportioned form, when she glanced at his pale countenance, when she noted the melancholy smile that played over his features, and saw that to the melancholy was joined an expression of sarcasm, she could not help feeling herself subdued.
She felt so oppressed that for the sake of making some movement, she took off one of her gloves. While she was listlessly gazing on her white taper fingers laden with rings, she heard the melodious voice of her companion say, "Will the majestic Edith, like the Venetian Doge, wed herself to the sea?" Raising her head proudly, she looked with a surprised and indignant air at the speaker. Silent as before, he sustained her look with the greatest calmness. Was he mocking her? She could not understand; but disarmed by his cold tranquillity, she mechanically drew a ring from her finger and threw it into the smooth clear water. Why had she done so? Ask why Cleopatra threw one of her most precious pearls into the dissolving vinegar?
But as soon as Edith had parted with the ring she felt at ease-she respired more freely--and she thought she could again look triumphantly at her companion.
"Now," said the young man, "when in my rambles along the margin of the lake I again meet with the nymphs and water spirits, I shall know from whence the queen has obtained her golden crown."
Edith did not reply to this remark; and the young man went on:--"Down beneath the still waters there exists a peculiar life. Who knows what might be seen if one day the water from the lakes were to run off, if the sea were to be evaporated, and all the fountains to become dry?"
Edith persisted in her silence: she tried to appear the cold stately being, of uncontrollable will.
The boats by this time had again reached the margin of the lake. The gentlemen, leaping from them, handed the ladies to the shore; they all returned to the mansion, where dancing and music completed the entertainment of the evening.
The day after the boating party, Edith's intended bridegroom--a rich baronet--arrived at the mansion. The young artist--for such was the skilful steersman--had already departed. He had been favoured by the master of the mansion with an invitation for a short time; but when the period he had given himself had expired, he could not be prevailed on to prolong his stay.
Edith's intended husband was in every respect suited to her. Reserved in his outward demeanour, though benevolent in character, as much as Edith was herself, he awaited the union with a calmness which might have been considered by those who did not know him well, to be indifference.
From the moment of the baronet's arrival at the mansion, the evening parties were to become more brilliant than before. Edith had just completed her first evening's toilet: the pearls were already fastened round her beautiful throat--the bracelets were clasped on her snowy arms--and she was taking the rings from her jewel-box. When arranging them on her fingers, she found that one was missing; and the missing one was none other than that which the baronet had presented to her at the time of their engagement. Edith, when in the boat, had unconsciously thrown this particular ring into the lake. What fatality had guided her hand? Why did the ring thrown into the water happen to be the ring of engagement? Why, for the first time in her life, had she, so strong in her own will, carried out the suggestion of another by wedding herself to the sea?
These thoughts troubled the mind of Edith. In imagination she was again on the lake; she again saw her companion plying the oars in silence; she again felt overpowered, as if in the presence of some superior genius; but instead of rebelling against this feeling, as she had done before, she allowed her spirit to be subdued, and she even experienced a pleasure in feeling herself ruled, rather than ruling. But soon her pride regained its dominion, and in a few days the baronet presented her with another ring. He thought nothing of the singular circumstances under which the first ring was lost, but she, perhaps thought much on receiving a second one. On the evening before the wedding-day another boating party was formed; the boats were again pushing from the shore--the oars of the rowers were keeping time with the sounds of the music. Edith was again on the lake; but she had not so skilful a steersman as before. Her looks were intently fixed on the calm surface of the water, as if she would penetrate its mysterious depths; and as she continued to gaze she seemed to see reflected in the watery mirror the image of her former silent boatman. She held her hand over the edge of the boat, and the ring fell from her finger, as if drawn by some other hand that was invisible!
As soon as the waters of the lake had closed over it, Edith awoke from her reverie. "Heavens!" she exclaimed, "who has drawn the ring from my finger?" The baronet merely remarked smilingly that the ring which he had given her must have been too large, and had fallen into the water. In fact, he thought nothing of the event, she perhaps thought more; but both agreed no third ring of engagement was necessary, as the next day the wedding-ring was to take place.
On the following day an increased bustle and gaiety prevailed at the mansion. The marriage-ceremony was concluded; a magnificent breakfast was awaiting the bridal guests, and the carriage which was to convey the wedded pair on their bridal tour, was being packed ready for travelling.
The pride of Edith was in every point satisfied. She was the wife of a rich baronet, and was about to leave the romantic retreat of her father's mansion, to play her part in the gay world. But were all her feelings satisfied? We think not. During the breakfast she had stolen away from the guests to take a farewell look at the scenes of her childhood. When wandering along the border of the lake she could not help thinking of the moment when she first felt her proud feelings softened and subdued by some strange and unknown power. She avowed to herself, that though struggling against that power, she loved it; and she wondered how she could have steeled her heart to its influence. She gazed on her wedding-ring, then on the lake. Suddenly the waters became agitated--she saw a figure rising out of the middle of the lake--she heard a voice exclaiming, "The majestic Edith is the bride of the lake: the time is come when she must join her bridegroom!"
The lady of the baronet felt herself overpowered for the third time. She unfastened a little boat from its moorings, leaped into it, seized the oars, and rowed with supernatural energy towards the spot where the figure had appeared.
From the windows of the mansion the wedding company beheld a lady steering a little boat towards the middle of the lake. The boat stopped--and the lady, bowing herself over the edge, disappeared beneath the waters.
Neither the majestic Edith nor the young artist were ever seen again.