The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 314: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

300 THE YOUNG DUCHESS; scarcely were the words spoken when our heroine felt that she had proclaimed an impossibility. “Do not deceive yourself on my account, dear Mary,” pursued the Dowager, in a tone that was calm, low, mournful, and affectionate. “I am dying—and it is better that I should thus die. I said so ere now. I have been mad—I know it— and in my madness I have committed a fearful deed. Do not think that because I speak thus calmly of it, 1 fail to appreciate its stupendous enormity. Oh, that I could recall! her to life! But my conscience is so far appeased that I know God will not hold me answerable for an action which was perpetrated when I was not the mis- tress of myself. No!—that same heaven which in its inscrutable wisdom thought fit to deprive me of my reason, will make every allowance for the deeds that were done while I was groping my way in the clouded gloom of my intellect. I know likewise that the human law may be equally mer- ciful, and that to my case it would not apply the retributive doctrine. But still—but still, Mary, I should have to undergo a trial—I should have to be dragged through the ordeal of a court of justice; and then perhaps I should be confined to a madhouse for the remainder of my days.” The young Duchess shuddered with a cold tremor; for there was a horrible calmness in the manner in which the Dowager spoke these words, and our heroine even began to question whether the light of intellect had after all so completely triumphed over the mind’s clouded state as she had at first imagined. Indeed her misgiving on the point in- creased when she beheld her mother-in-law raise her hand to her brow, press that hand upon the bandage which was fastened there, and have every appearance as if she were endeavouring to collect thoughts that were beginning to wander. ‘* Of all the circumstances which led to the ter- rible deed,” resumed the Dowager, after a brief pause, ‘‘I have now a full comprehension. The deed itself, with all its details, is vivid in my mind. Other ideas hover confusedly about it; but it is vainly that I strive to connect them with the one terrific incident itself. My mind must have been excited and horrified by fearful night- mares. Yes!—I have a dim recollection that you yourself, dear Mary, figured therein “J, dear mother?”—and the young Duchess now listened with a degree of suspense that was excruciatingly poignant. ‘‘'Yes,” pursued the Dowager: ‘but then the images of those who are dearest to us are sure to rise uppermost in our dreams, because they are ever present in our waking thoughts. And thus was it, Mary, that I had some dreadful vision in connexion with yourself—a dream of some danger hanging over you—of some fearful shape that was haunting you-—-Yes, and now I recollect, my fevered imagination carried me even into your very chamber—and there it sported with me in such a hideous but fantastic manner ” “What was it that you fancied, dear mother ?” asked the young Duchess, in a low hoarse voice. “T scarcely know—I cannot collect my thoughts upon that point:” and again the Dowager pressed her hand to her bandaged brow. ‘Perhaps it were better, dear mother,” said our heroine, softly yet earnestly, “to abstain from harrassing your mind with these unpleasant topics ?” e CR, MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. a ee ‘“‘Yes—it were better,” rejoined the Dowager. “At all events, Mary, I have said enough to show you that my mind must have been in a very fevered and morbid state—that it must have been labouring under a great amount of unnatural ex- citement—and that those horrible nightmares had left 2 kindred impreas upon it. I was more mad than ever! Oh, I must have been fiercely and savagely mad when I could have done such a deed as that! And if Iam horrified at the action it- self, I am equally astonished at the dissimulation that I displaye ” ‘“‘ Dissimulation, dear mother ?” said our heroine inquiringly: and it was with breathless suspense that she hung upon every word which pow issued from the lips of her mother-in-law. ‘* Yes — dissimulation, Mary,” replied the Dowager. ‘'I must not suffer the thread of ideas to escape out of my mind,”—and again she pressed her hand to her brow. ‘Ah, I will tell you what Imean! Ihave a recollection of having done something for which Mrs. Quinlan spoke very harshly to me. She scolded me as if I were a child. What was it that I had done? Oh, if my brain should grow confused before I can tell you everything! Ah! there is a gleam of light! Well, I remember I was standing in the middle of my bedroom with Mrs. Quinlan—we had both nothing on but our nightclothes—and she was re- proaching me for having stolen out of the room, or else having tried to leave it, I do not exactly know which.” , ‘Tt matters little, dear mother,” young Duchess hastily and anxiously. tax your recollections too much - ‘““No, no—I will not, Mary; for I feel that my brain is getting weaker. “Give me some water. There! raise the glass to my lips.” said the “Do not ‘Good God! She is dying!” mentally ejacu- lated our heroine. ‘Mother, how do you feel ?” ‘“‘ Better—better now, dear Mary:” but there was evidently an increasing feebleness in the Dowager’s voice. “Shall I call the surgeon—or the hand- maidens ?” asked the young Duchess, now full of the most feverish anxiety. ‘No, no—Mary !—they can do me no good! Besides, I feel better now. I shall last till the Coroner comes.” ‘““The Coroner ?” echoed our heroine. ‘Yes: I have ordered him to be sent for,’ re- sponded the Dowager. “I know not exactly why he should be uppermost in my thoughts—~ but so it was at the moment when I begged that he might be summoned.” ‘For what purpose?” asked the young Duchess, in & faint voice. “That I may tell him how I did the deed—so that by no possibility there may be any injurious suspicion fall upon others. You see, Mary, that I am anxious to do all I can.” ‘* Yes, yes, dear mother—I sce that you are But what were you telling me ?” “Where was I, Mary ?”—and the Dowager’s thoughts seemed to be growing slightly confused ; or at all events they were not quite so clear and collected as they were a few minutes back. ‘You were telling me, dear mother, that you were standing in the middle of your own bed- room, and Mrs. Quinlan was scolding you for COMO YN Wn) Colin