The Mysteries of the Court of London, Vol. 7 — page 39: what you’re looking at

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exten 28 — ——t- whose itaage was indelibly impressed upon his heart--whose love had been alike hia elysian joy and bi ineffable misery! Several minutes passed: and there they stood, —Kliza seeming to bave ber looks fixed fipon the fountain, but in reality beholding nothing --Ber tram now contemplating her with the strong ex- citement of feelings tuo long pent up to be re- pressible any longer. “ Flize !? he suid at length : and that word —that name—was alone throwngut at the time from his lips: it waa followed by naught beside . he knew not what more to say—-and yet he felt that be had a million things of which to disburden his upprossed spirit. And that nome, when spoken by kia lps, thrilled with galvanic cif t through her entire form. Never had she thought that her own naine was beautiful untal she ddd first heard it pro- nounced by his tongue, And his voice, tay, had all those melting cadences—all that clouded har- mony of sadness, which is so peclectly but danger- ously calculated to stir up the tenderest emotions of the soul. * Eliza!” he repeated after a long pause, during which be had gazed oo her with mingled rap- ture and despair: “at length we are alono to- gether.” “ And we ought muf to he alone together,” she anawered, in a voice which would have beeu in- nudiblo were it not for ils natural clearness : and now her cheeks were suddenly muantled in blushes. “Whoreforo should we not be alone?” asked Bertram bitterly. “Ie it that your consmence tells you I have come as an accuser— and that you are afraid to look your accuser in the faco P” “No, Me. Vivian!” said the Duchess proudly, es she rained her cyes and fixed them on bim for a few moments: then they wero suddenly bent downward again, and the pearly teara yushed forth, “I eee,” she added, again in & voice acarcely audi- vie, “that you behevo me guilty of the foulest, vilest, most dishonourable perlidy. But it was not s0——No, Bortiam--it was not so!” “What, Eliza?’ be ejaculated in amazement : ’ “what is this that I hear ?’—then’ the next mo- ment he added with scornful bitterness, “ But you are heaping insult upon injury to treat me as a ‘poor creduleus fool !”” . “ Bertram,” answered the Duchess, in a voice that was low but clear, and again raising her eyes towards his countenance, on which she gazed with the steadiness of innocence in her jooks, —-“as I have a soul to be saved—as there is an Alinighty who hears my words now, and will punish me hereafter if 1 wilfully deceive you—l was not guilty {” 4 “Elisa,” suid Bertram, suddenly seized with the wild excitement of rage, fury, and indigne- tion—and again his eyes flashed forth unnatural fires,—“if you were deceived, maledictions—ten thousand, thousand maledivtions upon the heads of those——~” “ Cease!” almost ehrieked forth the horrified Duchess, her countenance oxpressing ineffable agony. “ Yuu would invoke curses upon the head of my perished father \*: “My God, I comptekend it all!” murmured Rertraw and he placed hia hand upen his throb- ¥ ‘ ape, Yd =. IT oA dein mmaterealalipai intl lyri ios » ~ wap b » Lad oe arpa © 46 GEE THR MYSTERIES OF THE'COURT. gear bing brows, as if thereby to steady the brain that rocked and reeled within. “Yes,” continued Eliza, now hurried away by the strong impulse which opportunity as well as her own feelings gave her to justify herself, —* I was deceived, Bertram—cruelly deceived! God, who alone can read the human heart, knows how true I was to you; and if an el-witness were to appear before you now, that boly bemg could tell how I cherished your image while you wire absent—how I cherished it even’ after the’ terrible report that you had gone down to a grave in the deep waters! Bertram, 1¢ was not until I became vnother’s, that I learnt the tremendvuus truth that you were live?” “Kliza, Eliza! this is agony for me .o hear!” murmured the wretcued Bertram, hia counte- navee filled with despair. “I wrote to your father twice-—" “I know it,” she interrupted him softly—but, Oh! with what a world of ineffable feeling in her looks: “1 knowit. My father deceived me—— But spare him—spare his memory May God, tiave forgiven him !” *“Bhzu,” continued Jertram, “I believe you. There is truth in your looks —truth in your words. I always believed you truthful —until the fatal day, when op arriving in England to hasten and claim you as my bride, I read in a newspaper the report of your marriage. Just heaven! what sear- ny, blindimg, sight-blasing words fur me! Do vou know, Eliza, that for houte [ was like one gone mad—-that I strove to lay violent hands upon myself, and that the persons of the hatel prevented me P” “Bertram, Bertram—tell me not all this!” moaned Eliza, sobbing bitterly: “it 1s more than I can en- dure! Since the first instant that the intelligence of your death reached me, my life has been one long agony —one continuous throe of indescribable despair. The rack may torture for hours or for days—and the miseries of the victim will end in deuth: but my rack, Bertram, has now lasted for more than two long years and it will last, Bertram, until I go down into the cold grave where alone this heart of mine can be at peace !” “ Eliza, it is now for me to implore you to be calm—to cntreat that you will not talk to me in this distracting, fmghtful way!”—and Bertram, falling on bis knees upun the stone margin of the fountatn’s reservoir, took her hand and preised it to his lips: but the next instant dropping it—nay, more, even tossing it away from him—he started up, exclaiming in violent excitement, ‘“That hand is another’s !—it 1s sacrilege in we to touch it!” Eliza’s tears fell fast and bitterly. She would not have withdrawn her hand of herown accord— at least not so abruptly as he had flung it from him. She wae shocked—she was hurt—she was wounded: the affliction which that poor creature endured in those rending moments, was such as no man, even the most vindictive, could wish his mortal enemy to undergo. ; “ Pardon me, Elisa,” said Bertram, in e tone of tenderest contrition; “I was rude—I was brutal. But, heavens! I am not the master of myself {”— and again he pressed his feverish hand to his wildly throbbing brows. “‘ Let me say a few words of explanation,” he resumed after a wile, and apesaking if a more ovllected wanner. “By a 2 ree om ae COMIC OOO© (C Oe TT ne en et TS Saas SS CO