The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

eee -~ 98 THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. has not the same fortitude as myself in yielding to that which she so piteously described as a sad, sad destiny !” : On quitting Zoe, Clarine as usual to M. Volney’s study, to imprint the wonted kiss upon his brow and receive that nightly benediction which he never failed to give. Oh! how tumultu- ously did poor Clarine’s heart beat as she ap- proached that study-door |—with what 9 sense of anguish did she stop to press her hands against her heaving bosom, as if she could thereby silence the palpitations of that heart of her’s!—and how painfully for a few instants did she find herself compelled to lean against the wall for support. But it sometimes happens that at the very crisis of the most torturing ordeal a preternaturgl forti- tude suddenly seizes upon those who sre to go through it,—nerving them with the requisite amount of courage. And thus was it now with Clarine. She regained a degree of outward com- posure which astonished herself; and the next instant she stood in her father’g presenge. “Sit down, Clarine,” asid M. Yolney. “J would speak to you a few words. Fortunate for her wag i§ that his countenance was half averted, ond thet he completely shaded his eyes with his hand ag he thus spoke: for if he had only happened to glance towards her at the instant, he would have scen that all her composure suddenly vanished, end that she sank upon the seat ag if overcome by 9 mortal terror. “ Olarine,” continued M. Volney, “I have long wished to speak to you on a particular subject; and the few words which passed between us yester- day, more than ever impressed me with the neces- sity of so doing. You gap that I am awakening to a sense of your lonely position, shut out as you are from that gociety q, which at your age it is natural you eshauld desire to mix—and indeed in which you ought to mix. Yes, my poor child! [ will henceforth endeavour to consider you more and myself icgs than I have hitherto done. You will not always have Lady Octavian Meredith with you: I dare say that she will soap benome wearied of this monotonous modg of life——” “On the contrary, my dear father,” Clarine ventured softly to observe: “Lady Octavian loves this seclusion where she has found a home. As for myself——” “I know that you are a good and obedient girl,” interrupted M. Volney somewhat hastily: “and it is that which ” But he suddenly stopped short, — his counte- mance atill averted, his eyes still shaded by his hand. A deep but inaudible sigh slowly convulsed Clarine’s bosom: for she comprehended only too well how her father would have finished his sen- tence if he had not caught back the words which had involuntarily risen to his lips. He would have said, “It is this that makes me show you whatsoever love and kindness you have ever known on my part!” “‘Yes—you are a good and dutiful girl,” con- tinued M. Volney after a pause: and still he seemed as if ho dared not,turn his cyes towards Clarine. “And now listen to me attentively : listen also with that complying and obedient spirit which you have ever manifested towards me. I said yesterday that we are all mortal—that I am ad- yanced in years, and that in the ordinary course of nature my time must soon come. And then too there are accidents and casualties—and it may likewise be, Clarine,” he continued, speaking in disjointed sentences, as if he were really much moved inwardly, though his voice was cold,—* and then too, Clarine, it may enter into my plans to send you where you may mingle in that society where you ought to move 7 “But my dear father ” “Do not interrupt me,” be said, waving his hand somewhat impatiently, and then replacing that same hand before his eyes to shade them again: “but listen in silence. The injunction I am about to give you is one vitally necessary———and yet I cannot explain the reasong—nor must you over seek to know them. It is true that accident may some day waft them to JOUF Gar; and if so —But no matter! Listen’to my injunction | You eapnot always remain risorer in this old Chateau, Olarine; sconer or task you will go into the great yorld—and there you will mingle amidst the busy throng. Let me “hope, too, that your hand will be in magrrigge hy gome eligible suitor: for f Woedy val ad, Diesine, that you wil] be Fich af my death. Weep not— weep not, my poo girl |" Thus speaking, M. Folney rose sadenly from his chair ; and pressing his lips ta Olerine’s fore- head, he smoothed down er hair for a fow moments with his hand. He thep resymed his seat,—shading his countangneg ag before. “ Let me hasten,” he said, “to conclude this gcene, and to specify the injunction towgs which T am eo long in coming. It is this, Claring ;—that there is one person in the world whom you musé never suffer to approach you—one pefson with whom no friendly words must aver ke exchanged by your lips: and if you felt that your heart could possibly love this one to whom f allude, pluck that eart out of you—kill yourself qooner ” A cry.thrilled from Clarine’s lips: M. Volney started up from his seat; and the afflicted young lady exclaimed, “O father! father !”’ “Pardon me Clarine! I have been too abrupt -—tag vehement likewise! I have made use of language which ig indeed but too well calculated to startle and horrify you, incomprehensible as it must be !” Again M. Volney passed his hand caressingly over her hair; and in a tremulous voice he said, “Courage, Clarine—ocourage for only a few mo- ments! Bear with me—have patience! This is a scene which is necessary now—but which need never be renewed |” Again did he return to his seat: and again did he shade his countenance with his hand. “It is possible, Clarine,” he continued, “that sooner or later in the great world you may meet an individual bearing the name of the Viscount Delorme.” Clarine gasped with anguish: but no audible sound came from her lips—yet her face was of a death-like pallor. “It is this man,” continued M. Volney, per- fectly unconscious that Clarine had exhibited any freeh paroxysm of emotion,—“ it is this man whom you must avoid as if he were a mortal enemy. If I be living when you should thus happen to meet him,—supposing you ever do meet—recollect that it would fill my cup with misery to overflowing if COMME OOO SS} (CO