The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 214: what you’re looking at

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THE MYSTERIES OF TRE COURT. 207 of your love? Henri, let me go away with you ——I cannot be your wife—but I will be your _ slave {” “ Adelaide, speak not thus! it is impossible!” exclaimed St. Gerard energetically. “What! you would leave me in my present distress P”’ she cried, in a tone full of anguish ;— “and I who now feel that I love you more than ever! O Henri, this is cruel—too cruel. But you do not understand how I am situated. Doubtless those who have taken this step in re- spect to my husband, do not purpose to leave me tranguil. As yet he is a minor—he has no control over his own fortune—ho is at the mercy of his guardians: think you, then, that they will make any pecuniary allowance for me? No: every in- stant do I now expect to receive a mandate to quit this house. My position is most cruel. By the circumstance of marriage, my own resources have vanished———” “You know, Adelaide, that I commiserate you,” interrupted St. Gerard; “and to the extent of my power will I assist you. Fortune has smiled upon me in more ways than one. Not only have my commercial ventures been crowned with success, but the very recent death of my competitor in that law-suit four or five years ago, has given me back the estate which was then wrested from me. Therefore, so far as pecuniary assistance goes, you shall have it, Adelaide.” “No, Henri!” she exclaimed proudly: “it was not to receive eleemosynary charity that I so ear- neatly courted this interview. I am not without immediate resources: I have some little money of my own which I had brought from Parie——But no matter! It is painful for me to talk on such jects. Once more”’—and here she threw into her looks and her language all the most melting powers of persuasion and entreaty,—“ once more do I beseech that you will grant me your love !”’ “Speak not thus!” interrupted the Count, in a tone of Srmest desision: “it is impossible. No, Adelaide—everyshing in that respect ended be- tween us long ago, «nd never can be renewed. Pure and chaste ware you when we parted: pure and chaste shall you reroain, so far as it depends upon me. Thore is ono service which methinks I can render you—or at loast I will endeavour. If I understand aright the exact circumstances of your position, depends on the prompt liberation of your husband. Think you that if he were sot free, and if be addressed himettnvei magistrate for protection—think you, , that it would be refused? Give me the address of the place to which he has been transferred; and I will jose no time in adopting measures for his emanci- reflecting profoundly, in deep mournfulness, as St. Gerard thus addressed her. She saw that it was useless to entertain any farther hope man to accept her as his paramour ; and she there- fore, after some deliberation, resolved to avail he~ self of his services as a friend. For either ste must flee away with him, or procure the restora- tion of her husband. The former seermed impos- sible: had not Henri said that everything was at an end between them so far as love was concerned ? —and therefore she must accept the latter alter- mative. Besides, by doing this, she would most probably be enabled to see the Count again ; and tuis was what she desired ;—for all her pristine love was revived towards him with the fullest power. “ Henri,” she said, in a low melting voice, “I accept the proposition you have made me: you shall serve me in this instance. I know not where the place is situate to which they have borne Lord Saxondale away: all that I have ascertained is that the establishment is kept by a physician named Burdett.” 7 P “It is enough—I will find it out,” answered the Count de §t. Gerard: then, as he was on the point of taking his departure, he recollected something, and said, as he laid a card upon the table, “ There is my present address in London, shonld circum- stances render it necessary for you to communicate with me. But I beg, Adelaide, that you will not ask to see me again unless those circumstances should prove very urgent. I cannot refuse to serve you asa friend—but in no other light. And now farewell for the present.” “ Are we to part thus?” said Adelaide, taking his hand and looking with mournful earnestness upon him. “Yes, yos—we must part thus,” he answered quickly: and wringing her hand, he tore himself suddenly away. As the door closed behind him, Adelaide threw herself upon the sofa—covered her face with hee hands—and wept bitterly. CHAPTER CXXX. THE DRAWING-ROOM,. Tue dusk of the October evening was setting in— the obscurity was deepening in the drawing-room where Adelaide remained alone; and when that wild paroxysm had- somewhat subsided, she slowly removed her hands from her countenance and wiped away the tears from her eyes. She did not however ring for lights: she wished to meditate upon her position—to reflect upon al] the circum- stances which had this day transpired; and there was something in the growing gloom that was congenial to her own of mind. Where she was darker than in any other part of the room; and thus, if any per- eon had been present with her, the eyes of such a one would only have been able to perceive that there was a female form half reclining there, but would not have recognised who she was. It was while the obscurity was thus deepening— and while Adelaide still sat in the depth of that shade—that the door opened, and a livery servant announced “ Lord Herold Staunton.” The domestic immediately afterwards said, “ Your ladyship will Lsv* Lehts brought up ?” * No—never mind the lights,” ejaculated Harolds “T shall not detain her ladyship many minutes— and my business is of too much importance to be delayed or interrupted.” The servant accordingly withdrew ; and Harold, flinging himself upon a chair at some little dis. tance from the sofa, said, in a voice which denoted a strange tumult of feelings, “ Harriet, I am half E (COL (C DOO CS (COL