The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 137: what you’re looking at

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quae 180 would snathematine his own folly—be would | make ' himself miserable by declaring that though we loved eo meee ee Eee so fondly, we were not made for each other. Nor was this all. Sometimes, when we had parted in the most affectionate manner in the evening, be would send me a note the first in the morn- ing, to the effeet that it struck big I was cool and distant when we separated—be expressed his con- viction I had something on my mind—that I looked dull and unhappy—that I hed perhaps a secret which I kept from him—that perchance [ regretted having promised him my hand: and thus would he conjure up an infinite variety of circumstances which had not the slightest foundation for their existence. He would entreat a few lines in reply, either to assure him of my continued love, or to let him know the worst at once. AndJ would write back scoord- ing to the dictates of my heart; and be would speed into my presence, imploring forgiveness for having tortured himself and me. Thep he would enjoin me to eer up—to look happy and gsy—to smile —to laugh: and when I not, or did so only by a forced effort which was but toe plainly visible, he would again secuse me of being dall and wun. happy—he would make @ reproach of the very affliction which he himesif had caused me. In this manper did the four months pass away; and it was with the utmost difficulty I could conceal from my uncle and aunt the effects of these frequent inter- ruptions to the even flow of my happiness. Never- theless, as a general rule, I was not unhappy—for when alone, I reflected that all theese of conduct and varieties of temper on the part of Stephen, were only eo many evidences of a profound and deathless love, which ought to make my heart grateful even amidst the very pengs they caused it to experience.” | Again the Countess paused with a renewed feel. mg of exhaustion, and not to collect her thoughts: for the tide of these flowed rapidly in upon ber brain, and she had bat to cast her mind upon the current in order to give them adequate expres- sion. The sensation of fatigue quickly passed away in the excitement of her discourse; and she con- tinued in the following terms :— ** You perceive, my dear Broughton, that this is an analysis of a human heart upon which I have entered—the heart of my husband!—and you will eomprehend presently wherefore I thus dwell upon such minute details, and why the dissection of that heart is so carefully made. I have already hinted that there was something wild and imputisive in the Earl’s love—I may add that it was romantic and feverish. Oftentimes would he burst forth into the most impassioned delineations of that love of hie: be would compare it to the burning brilliancy of the noon-day sun, and would tell me that mine resembled only the reflection which the earth caught thereof. At other times he would seize me forcibly by the wrist—grasp it till he hurt me—and with a etrange wildness in his look, would declare that it was a fearful thing to love ashe loved; for that be was giving toa human creature the adoration which properly belonged only to the Creator. Thus did he frighten me with the vehemence of his manner and the singularity of his words: but in his milder and more tender moods, he was so endearing and affee- THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT experience. But one evening, within three or four | days of the one fixed for our bridal, a epene took place which I must specially note. There was a large garden attached to the house where I dwelt with my relatives: and on that particular evening [ had rambled with the Earl until a somewhat later hour than usual. It was the month of August; and the weather was warm and deliciows. For some time, on the occasion of this ramble, the dis- course was unrufiied by a single word on bis pert to cause me pain. Never indeed had his manner been more ing: never was his language more eoft—more tender. I really thought that be him- self felt that he had sometimes shown too much ve- hemence towarde me—that he regretted it — and that he was endeavouring to make all possible amends, In the silent gratitude of my beart I thanked him; I regarded it as-another proof of his love, But I did not express those thanks in words: to do so would have been to revive unpleasant re- miniscences, and even appear like a reproach for his faults. The dusk was closing in; and I at length from me — OF whether some entirely different mood: but eo you possess my love! wildness: beware how you ever do aught to change thie feeling: because from a love so wild would spring the wildest vengeance!’—I was alarmed: I even shrank from him. It was nataral enough ; for the horrifying fear took possession of me he was suddenly going mad aod would do me a mischief, He became almost enraged: be conj me to tell him, by everything I deemed sacred, I really loved him. My lips tremulously the answer he sought: and he appeared We entered the house: he remained for another hour, his manner having resumed affectionate tendernese—his discourse ite suavity. When be took his leave, I he went away completely happy. But when I as- cended to my own chamber, a sudden idea strack me as if with a violent blow; and dispensing with the services of my maid, I sat down to ponder upon it. Was it possible that Stephen thought I loved him only for his title and his wealth?—or rather Ee, natural thet I should do my best to acquire a social position, with name and rank. Bat, Ob! as I wept bitter burning tears while thus giving way to my _Feflectious, I said to myself that I would sooner { ready etated—and therefore it might be deemed | ° tionate that be amply repaid me for whatever tran- | | break off the match at once, notwithstanding the | sient anzisties and afflictions he thus caused me to , sincere truthfulness uf my oe ee ee i ee TT aa ac ee) (COL (C DOO CS (COL