The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 43: what you’re looking at

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

anguish in her tones, “you know not all the arte that were adopted to enmesh mé in this web which is inextricable. God forgive me that I should thus have to allude to my own father: but it is aot As I have a soul to be saved, I know not that my husband was yout uncle until the know- ledge cane too late. Never had I heard that the Marquisate of Viviandale had been changed into the Dukedom of Marchmont——-” “One word, Elisa!” ejaculated Bertram, who during the first portion of her speech had beeotne all confidence and trustfulness in her sincerity,— bat in whose heatt the reptile of suspicion sud- denly lifted up its head again: “is it poemble that during the months of courtship miy uncle hever named them. And my father was careful that the mame of Vivian should never be mentioned in my hearing, mm conriexion with the Duke of March- mont. Are you not aware that the nuptials were private f”’ “Ah, private! I tiderstand !” srennane Ber- team bitterly ; “ the hetter to exclude the m of the family ! But as you have mentioned the nuptials, Eliza,” he went on to esy—and now his eyes were riveted upon her with all the scruti- izing keenness of fresh suspicion, freah distrust,— “when the minister was performing the ceremony, did he not ask you if you would take John Ferdi- nand Henry Bertram, responded Elisa, steadily meeting his gaze with looks that were all mgenuous sad- news end mournfal imnocence,—* that } ceremony was to me a dream at the time: it ap- pears to me a dream now. I beheld everything ' through a mist: and if I look back upon it from the present nioment, i oe ppeare © someing shrouded in obscurity and gloom. Yes, it was s dream—a waking dream, in which I slumbered with my eyes open. I beheld naught—I heard naught—I felt naught. No—TI felt not even when the marriage-ring was placed upon my finger ; and if I responded yes to the question that was put to me, it was either mechanically, or else because there was some one nigh to whisper the word in my ear. Had the name of him whom I was taki as a husband, been that of Lucifer himself, I should not have heard it—I should not have per- ceived it in that paralysis of the senses: I should have iously become the bride of Satan! Oh, Bertram! it is not the least cruel of all the phases of the ordeal of torture through wich my | j lorn and desolate existence has been dragged,— it is not the least cruel, I say, that I am compelled to give these explanations—these self-vindications now 7” “Oh! wretch that I am, it is I who torture Y” exelaimed Bertram, literally shivering from to foot in the wildness of his excitement and the frensy of his feelings: “I who love you so madly, am torturing you thus horribly! But again I declare to you, Elisa, that I am not master of myself! God knows I strive to look upon the world in the eame light that I used to regard it— as one of sunshine and of flowers: but the sun- shine turms into a dark nomonse mist en THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. to the eye, appear te exhale poisons; and methinks that if I stretch forth my hand to pluck one, a rep- tile would start forth from-amidst the foliage and fix ite venomed fangs upon my flesh! Yes—every- thing is changed to me. The world appears to be made up of deceite, with a gloss over all: the par- terres of roses are but hidden pitfalls for the feet. Is it not dreadful, Eliza, that one so young as I, should have his heart thus seared—thus warped— thus devastated, s0 that everything I behold or reflect upon is viewed with suspicion and mis- trust ?” | “ It is dreadful—dreadful, Bertram !”» murmured the unhappy young lady, quivering from head to foot. “But for heaven’s sake, talk°no more thus !” “ What would you have me talk of?” cried Ber- tram, with increasing bitterness. “Would you have me speak of happiness P—it is gone for ever. Of hope ?—there is none for me. What induce- ment have I to prosecute a career which would have led me on to fame and fortune ?—she on whose brow it would have been the proudest mo- ment of my life to place the laurels won by intel- lect, or the coronet to be gained in the service of my country, has become another's. Ah, Eliza!” he ejaculated abruptly, as a fresh suspicion flashed to his mind: “you said just now that you had some knowledge of those letters which I wrote to your father———” “T found them in his desk after his decease,” interrupted the Duchess. “Then—and not till then—did I learn that you were alive. Then toe —and not till then—did I learn that I might have been your's. No mortal eyes, Bertram, beheld my rending anguish on that occasion. But God saw it !—and believe me, that never did the heart of woman throb with such throes—never did ha- man eyes shed such tears—never did living cres- ture kneel for a while in such profound, dark, un- utterable despair! And yet there waa one thing, Bertram, for which I thankeg@ God—and only one thing! It was that you had not perished in the deep waters—that your young life had not been snatched away !” ‘ Would to heaven that I had so died, Eliza !”’ ejaculated Bertram bitterly. “But those letters of mine—those two letters——did your father leave them that you might become acquainted with his p”? “No,” she responded. “ Perhaps yoa have been told that he died suddenly-—that he was stricken down all in an instan “ setts as if by the blasting lightning!’ inter- ected Bertram, with a fierce sardonic bitterness. ‘ Perhaps there was heaven’s retribution in that !” “Spare me, spare me!” moaned the wretched Eliza, clasping her hands in agony. “ Remember that it is to the daughter of that departed father are now ing |’ “God help me, Elisa!” exclaimed Bertram, once more pressing his hand to his brow, and stag- gering back a few paces: “J tell you that I am going mad. But those letters—wherefore had he not destroyed them ?”’ “It is a mystery which I cannot ” F@e plied the Duchess, in a low murmuring voice. “Perhaps an unknown— an unaccountable in- fluence led him to preserve them:—or perhaps it me in a pestilential haze—the flowers, so beautiful | was an oversight ——” eg a LE SREP (COLL (C DOO (GO)