The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 141: what you’re looking at

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

~ —S aS OO rr ree mask to eonceal the pertasbed state of his mind within. His pride—in respect to which he is most keenly sensitive-—-enabled him to sustain this out- ward composare, and to guard himself from ever being betrayed into those same paroxysme to which he bas been excited when alone with me. Now, do not think, Broaghtoa, thet I am saying all thie in dis. paragement of my husband. No—heavea forbid ! I have loved him devotedily—TI have neverceased to love him—TI love him now-——~yes, at this moment as mauch as ever! Bat why am I telling yeu ell those things? In the first place, it is because I had re- solved to make you my confidante, in order to pre- pare you for a service which I shall presently seek at your hands; end.in the secund place it is to account for that separatiun of chambers—~that par- about four yeare back. The Eari, as you have by this G@me understood, conjured up e thousand imagimery evils wherewith te torture both himself aad me: bat all this mechanism for racking as both, turned upon one pivot--namely, the idea that his love was not fully reciprocated. Well, to abridge my narrative es much as possible, I must inform you thet he at length deslated he had come to the conclusion that we were not fitted for each other— that we were never intended for one another—that it was a great fault on the part of each to link our destinies at the altar—and thet as he saw he wae meking me miserable, he had resolved to give me in fature as little of his | language pro- claim the contrary of all he had asserted,—he took my conduct asanother proof of indifference: whereas the real trath ie that I was too deeply smitten with dismay to be mistress of myself. He abruptly left the room where thie ssene took place: and on subse- quently repairiag to my own ehamber, overwhelmed with grief, I found a letter upon the toilet-table, announcing his future intentions, Give me my desk, Broughton—end you shall read is.” The letter wae accordingly produced ; and ite eon- tents ran in the following manner :—~— “ September 16th, 1840. “ It is not tn anger that I write, my dearest Priscilla --bat in sorrow. I must repeat what I said just now ; we ere not Stted for each other. I love you 20 much that peshape my very love makes me a tyrant towards you. it may be eo: bat in that ence I am the more to be pitied, because mine is an eMection whieh sant be inces santly gratified by a thousand little evidences of fond- nese—and therefore indifference killa me. I may exact too much: but I am the sofferer when experiencing diesppointment. However the case may be, my mind is made up. We will henceforth see each other as Kittle as possible: we will oseupy different suites of aparé- mente: but before the world cer deportment shall be each as to defy calumny and give no scope for scandal, When accident throws us slone together, the word love must never again pass our lips. I charge you to obey me in thie—I charge you not to seek by remonatrance either written or spoken, to deter me from my resolu- tion | If you do, tat moment will I fly away from your presence altogetber—ead you shall never hear of me agein. Understand me well therefore, Priscilla: the consequences will be terrible {f you disshey me! We shall meet presently at the dinner table: let it be with the freak familiarity which subsists between husband and wife—and nothing more. Do not even cast a look spon me, nor steal one at me, whieh may convey o repro an appeal, or a remoustranee. 1 om decided—enait i more for your sake than mine that I have come to this determination. I have no right to mske you unhappy end torture you continuously: but if we dwell together as heretofore, I cannot Gites uly bells j influences whiea upon you. Again therefore conjure—command—entreat—and implore that hence- forth we reside beneath the tame roof on the terms that I have lsid down. “ Your busband, * CAST LEMAINGE.” Mrs. Broughton could offer no comment this singular epistle: she dared not. It was ovi- dently the emanation of a mind in « singularly morbid state. It constituted « hideous cruelty towards a wife who was accused of no crime—not even charged with the slightest act of levity: but on the other hand, the Earl could scarcely be held responsible for the deed, inasmuch as it was not perpetrated in wilful wickedness—it was the act of one who, sane in all other was & monoma- niac with regard to the love which his heart cherished. “ How could I behave,” continued the Countess of Castlemaine, “in the face of a letter such as that? The agonising thought seised upon me that my unfortunate husband’s intellect was impaired on one particular point—and that if I thwarted his will, those terrible consequences to which he had so vaguely yet fearfully alluded, might ensue. Oh! what would I have given to speed to his apartment and fling myself at his feet? Such indeed was my first impulse: bat I conquered it. I shuddered at the idea of driving him into complete and irrepa- rable frensy. I therefore bent to an imperious necessity,—deriving however some little solace from the reflection that in a very short time he of bis own accord would adopt a conciliatory course. Four years bave elapsed since then—and you know, Broughton, how we have lived together. But no —you do not know it all—you do sof know that my husband still cherishes for me the same illimi- table love as at first—.” Here the Oountess stopped short suddenly, and her cheeks were suffased with blushes: she was all im a moment overwhelmed with confusion, while the tears were trickling down her cheeks. And— stranger inconsistency still—there was a partial emile upon her lipe. Mrs. Broughton gased upon her in astonishment. Bewildered as she had all along been in respect to the mysteries which evidently hung around the conduct of the Countess, she was now, if possible, more bewildered still. Was her ladyship innocent, that she could thus smile ag she expressed the conviction of ber husband’s un- altered and still illimitable love? or were not those blushes and that confusion the evidences of con- ecious guiltP But those tears—they did not seem tears wrung forth by the stings of conscience, nor by the seme of shame: they appeared to flow over those blushing cheeks like a warm Spring-showor upon the damask leaves of the rose. “And in dear lady,” Mrs. Broughton eaid, at length breaking silence, “to those mysteri- ous incidents at your uncle’s house, a few nights before your marriage—did you never clear them Pl > SO en CO IMULUG DOO CS (COL