Agnes: A Tale of the Streets — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

AGNES; OR, BDEAUTY AND PLEASURE. convulsed with sobs; “ your memory will be prized as that of one who was in every respect pure- minded and noble-hearted! Yes—the lips of all speak well of you! That amiable Countess who told me everything that had happened—the sister of the wrotch who betrayed you, and who even in rhe very tribunal itself buoyed you up with a false ope——’ ‘No, no, dear mother!” interposed Charles, you must not speak thus bitterly! I feel con- fident that the Princess of Spartivento experiences the utmost sorrow and remorse for all that she has’ done, and that she will leave no stone unturned to undo the consequences of her wickedness. She did not willingly deceive me with a false hope ; but perhaps she may have buoyed herself up with one that cannot possibly be realized.” “Oh, my dear boy, if I thought that there was tho slightest chance in that quarter, I would hasten to the Princess—I would throw myself at her feet—I would pardon her for what sho has done in the hope that by her aid it might all be undone! Yes, I will go——~” “No, dearest mother—romain with me, I be- seech you!” said Charles. “I am inspired with courage by your presence. I should sink into despondency if I were Icft alone! Besides, I dare not allow myself to yield to the influ8nce of hope, for fear it should suffer disappointment. Death would then be armed with triple terrors, and in the revulsion of feeling I might die a coward! Remain with mo therefore, dearest mother.” “J will remain with you, Charles,” she mur- mured, pressing him again and again to her bosom. “ Reat assured,” he resumed, “that if there be anything to be done, the Princess will persevere through remorse, and the Countess will lend her aid through kindness. No entreaty on your part would urge them on more quickly than they are now likely to be proceeding !” ° Hours passed away ; and the unhappy mother remained with her sou. The gonerous considera- tion of Laura and Miptilla Germini furnished ele- gant repasts; but they went away untouched from the prison-chamber. The evening came—the dusk closed in—candics were placed on tke table; and when Mrs. De Vere reflected how short the time was now growing—that no message of hope or encouragement camo from the outside—that the sentence was to be executed at daybreak—and that in a few brief hours she might behold her darling boy a stark cold corpse—she felt as if it wore im- possible she could any longer bear up against an idea so appalling, so astounding, so stupendous ! She shrank from the immensity of such ineffable woe! And as tho time went on, and the night deepened, Charles began to get frightened on his mother’s account. She sat gazing upon him with a strange sort of vacancy. She playod with his curling hair: she smiled listlessly; and she began to tell bim “ how his hair bad curled in his infancy, and how she had alweys prophesied it would con- tinue to do so as he grew up, so that she did not now find herself mistaken. Then sho started suddenly—-pressed her hand to her brow—flung a quick frightened look around—and with a shriek caught him to her bosom. Tho sense of his true position had suddenly broken in upon her again; ang then followed a scene of the wildest grief fur 373 the description of which we can find no pussibla language. And thus did the unfortunate condition of Mrs. De Vere’s mind continue to exhibit itaelf aa the night deepened,—those phases of vacancy and morbid listlessness becoming longer and longer as they alternated with the sudden outbursts of woe which followed upon a returning sense of the actual reality. Charles trembled lest his unfortu- nate mother’s reason should abandon her; for it actually seomed as if her brain was already giving way. And yet there were moments when he could not holp thinking that it might be a happy event if his parent should lose in mental numbness the keen sense of that position which was presently to bee come one of utter bereavement. It was past midnight: Charles had not thought of retiring to rest—indeed he did not purpose to do so—and his mother seemed to have lost all idea of the lapse of time. Indeed, for the last hour she had continued seated by his side, holding his band in her own—sometimes playing with his hair— then caressing his cheekand gazing on him the while as if she mercly knew who he was, but was listlessly abstracted from all surrounding circum- stances. But all of a sudden she gave one of those starts which made her seem as if sho were abruptly galvanized: ‘tho light of intelligence flamed up in her eyes—~and with a wild shriek sha flung her arms about his neck, crying, “ No, no! they shall not take you from me! They shall not! Oh, my beloved boy! What! you to die! My God! no!”? “ Mother, mother—TI entreat and implore——” “ Charles, Charles!"—and now it was scream upon scream that thrilled from her lips; and she gave vent to a grief so passionate and a despair so ineffable, that it seemed as if hor brain must burst and her heart must break. At this crisis, when the youth himself felt as if the bitterness of death were now only just begin- ning, the key was heard to turn in the lock and the bolts were drawn back. “My God! they come to fetch you!” cried the distracted mother. “ But they shall not !—uno, they shall not! I will die for you!” “Tranquillize yourself, dear mother ! — they come not to fetch mo yet! There must be still an hour or two !” The door opened ; and in rushed a female form, while the words, “Saved! saved!” pealed in ecstatic accents through the prison-apartment, It was the Countess di Milazzo. “ Saved ?” echoed Mrs. De Vere: and she stood like one bereft of reason. “Saved! saved!’ cried the Countess, panting for breath. “ Life and liberty! freedom aud for- tune! Seo! your door stands open !——-and iu a fow minutes others will bo hore besides that gaoler to confirm my words!” Oh! wild, wild indeed was now the ejaculation of joy—the ory of thrilling rapture which burst from the lips of Mrs. De Vere; and impas- sioned, fervid, glowing was the embrace in which she strained her son! Then she flew to the Countess — she pressed her to her bosom — sho lavished upon her tho most endearing epithots. And that the tidings wero indeed true wae evinced by the entrance of the turnkey, who grasped our hero by the hand, heartily congratulating him on comicboo SS CO