Kay's Story pt 13 - Sylvia's Darkness

February 23, 1910

            Today I asked David about the words in my head.  They sounded to me very much like the Bible, but I was not certain.  He said they came from the psalms—Psalm 138.  I made him read the entire psalm to me.  It is quite lovely, so I have copied it down here:

            Psalm 138  A Psalm of David

I will praise thee with my whole heart: before the gods will I sing praise unto thee.  I will worship toward thy holy temple, and praise thy name for thy lovingkindness and for thy truth: for thou hast magnified thy word above all thy name. In the day when I cried thou answeredst me, and strengthenedst me with strength in my soul. All the kings of the earth shall praise thee, O LORD, when they hear the words of thy mouth. Yea, they shall sing in the ways of the LORD: for great is the glory of the LORD. Though the LORD be high, yet hath he respect unto the lowly: but the proud he knoweth afar off. Though I walk in the midst of trouble, thou wilt revive me: thou shalt stretch forth thine hand against the wrath of mine enemies, and thy right hand shall save me. The LORD will perfect that which concerneth me: thy mercy, O LORD, endureth for ever: forsake not the works of thine own hands.

As the entries flowed into March, Sylvia slowly slid back into her old self.  She was healthy and rosy again, and she had gained her weight back swiftly.  The pages before Eliann’s now-tired eyes danced again with vain musings, sung with pride, and ran with superficialities.  Sylvia felt the lure of spring in her blood and could not wait to venture beyond the town limits and into the city.  She craved the attention of other men besides David.  “In fact, I deserve it.  A woman ought to have some rewards of diversion after suffering what I have suffered.”  Her flirting with David only worsened as she became more flippant about him.  “O, can I help having a little innocent fun with the boy?  He is simply too easy to impress and manipulate.” 

By mid-March Sylvia had begun a secret affair with an older gentleman from the city.  Elianna read on in shock.  Never, even in her negative feelings toward Sylvia, had she dared to suspect her of such an atrocity.  With horror she stared at Sylvia’s brazen account of her “conquest”, describing it glibly as a “thrill to beguile a married gentleman of wealth and status.” 

No one ever found out.  All the while Sylvia preened and gloated.  Her father had sent a great deal of money for her and her brother to subsist on for the remainder of their stay in America.  Sylvia lost no time in spending it foolishly, lavishing it on the dress shops and other peddlers of gaudy finery.  Ignoring her brother’s protests, she spared little expense in her social outings and shopping excursions.  After all, “I deserve it,” she averred.  This self-indulgent sense of entitlement became an echoing refrain throughout the entries.  It was her singular justification for everything she did. 

Amidst the ravings about this frippery and that frippery, a lone sentence stood out:

April 3, 1910

     They still haunt me.

April 4, 1910

     I have not had the courage to write of what happened two weeks ago.  A nightmare.  It is yet not within my heart to describe it in detail.  I was married to a great prince.  I had conquered him with my charms and the wedding was grand.  When I looked into his face as I lay in his arms, his eyes turned black and he said, “I am death.”  When I ran from him I found only walls of flame all around me.  I heard screaming and fainted.  It was all so vivid.

     When I awoke, that cursed verse was there in my head again, repeating itself over and over, like some melody that sticks in the mind.  Maddening.  I nearly threw away those two books by Spurgeon and Scougal.  I have come close to burning them in the fireplace many times, but someone is always there in the room when I have the notion. 

           

Elianna was now exasperated and worn out.  She wondered how long it would take to finish the journal at the rate she was going.  Sylvia’s handwriting was by no means easy to make out, and she felt like skipping ahead.  She doubted she would have the time or disposition to reach the end before arriving in Scotland.  After today’s dose of Sylvia she felt like little else than returning home just as soon as she could.  But a little pang tugged at her heart.  A phrase as haunting as Sylvia’s tiptoed through the surging and incredulous waters of her soul.  She had read it months ago before deciding to embark on this sojourn.

“What do you have that you did not receive?”