The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 145: what you’re looking at

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

133 THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. collection flashed to her mind, bringing hope along | I could hear of nothing of the sort. I inquired alss with it ; and she said in an.excited tone, “ But did yon : not tell me ere now that you would be almost justi- fied in declaring yourself te be unmarried? What meant you by that averment? what did it signify ? what am I to understand? Speak, speak, Etienne! You know not what torturing suspense I at thie - moment endure: for all my happiness hangs upon the next word that may fall from your lips!” “T will soon explain myself, dear Constance,” re- plied the Marquis, his countenance brightening up somewhat, or at all events losing a portion of the melancholy cloud which had been hanging upon it. “But ere I make known the meaning of those words which I spoke just now, and of which you have re- minded me, it is necessary I should enter mto a few more particulars respecting myself. For you must not think, Constance, that tho large sum of money which I received in euch a manner and for such a eervice, made me happy. No, no—farfrom it! It was the utter desperation of my circumstances ethich induced me to render thet service end take the reward. Heaven knows that by nature I am not mean, nor mercenary, nor dishonourable. No- thing of the reckless adventurer is there m my eharacter! I was the creature of circumstances: it as an imperious necessity that ruled me. But when it was all over, I felt as if I had eommitted a ermme and done a dishonourable action; and within twenty-four hours of that solemn mockery which gave me a wife and her dower, but deprived me of the former and made me unhappy with the latter, I sped to the hotel to return the money and insist upon steps being taken for the annulment of the marriage. But the Englishman and his companions had gone ! In order to banish the t reflections which now haunted me by day and by night, I embarked in commercial speculations, not so much in the hope of increasing my means as of amusing my mind. For three or four years they progressed favourably enough : but at length a sudden panic peralysed all my schemes, and the failure of a bank threatened me with ruin. Day and night did I toil to disen- tangle my affairs from the vortex of difficulty and erobarrassment in which they were plunged ; and I succeeded so far that I paid my liabilities with honourable exactitude, and found a surplus of a few hundreds of pounds remaining for my own use. Sick of commercial pursuits and financial specula- tions, I came over te Engiand. Then was it, dearest Constance, that I became acquainted with you ; and as to know you is to love you, I learnt to love you fondly! Oh, I need nut tell you over again how deeply I love you! That I was wrong, cruelly situated as I am, to whisper the tale of love in your ears, there can be no doubt: but this love which I entertain for you became indispensable to my hap- pinces—it gave me a new existence—and it seemed to promise felicity for the future. Could I resign it p—could I abandon this dream of bliss? Besides, during the interval which had then elapsed since my marriage——that fatal, that cursed marriage,—I had mever seen my wife—never heard of her—could not even learn what had become of her—and had never even caught the faintest whisper to the effect that there was a being in the world bearing the name of the Marchioness of Villebellc. Secretly r I pro- a ec a ee ‘alter that whose name I dare not men tion: for I resolved if I could hear of him, to seok him out and ascertain if my wife were still alive All I could however learn was that the individual alluded to was on the Contiment, but that his whereabouts was not known. I therefore naturally concluded that some fresh ctroumstances had trans- pired to induce the lady to discard the name and title she had obtained by her marriage with me; and 4¢ was under this bélief, sweet Constanes, that I ventured to breathe my tale of love and whisper my hopes in your cars. Am I so deeply to blame? Oh! if you had been less beautiful, less leas fond, less affectionate, I might have yielded to the calmness of reflection—i might have bowed tos sense of duty—I might have emothered this pass: of mine when it was as yet a nascent flame. But I adored you—I adore you still—I shall adore you ever, even though at the expiration of this inter- view we part to meet no more !” “But the meaning of those words, Mtienne ?” murmured Constance, profoundly moved, and her heart fluttering with hope and suspense: “ tell ma, tell me, what did they signify? For I see that there is yot something left untold—something that war- ranted you to declare that you would not be alto- gether unjustified in representing yourself as 8 man ?” “To that explanation I now come,” responded the Marquis, whose arm had once more engirdled Miss Ferofield’s waist, and from which she did not withdraw. ‘ Within the last three weeks I met her whom I have been compelled to regard and to speak of as my wifo——” “Ah! then you know that she is alive? and you have seen her?” exclaimed Conatance, in accents expressive of disappointment and sorrow. “'Yes—I have seen her; and when I tell you the result of our meeting you may not perhaps look thus distressed. I will not pause to explain under what circumstances it was that I mot her: suffice it to easy that we did thus meet three weeks our recognition was immediate and mutual. It was in the environs of London that I thus encountered her. She was clogantly dressed, and had the ap- pearance of being in the most comfortable circum- stances. It was rather in « tone of and a kind of good-humoured jocularity that she spoke. I asked her if she had ever borne my name in the presence of the world? and she assured me she had not. I next asked her if she considered she had any claim upon me as a husband ? to which she likewise answered in the nagative.—‘ Now, understand me,’ che said; ‘I do not wish to interfere with you, and I presume thaé you do not intend to interfere with me. The necessity which compelled me to marry you was of a‘transient character: the purpose was served on the instant; and if we could now unmarry ourselves I should be full willing.’—These words seat a thrill of joy to my heart. She observed my emotion, and want on to say, ‘ Although we are such strangers to each other, and although I consequently know so little of you, yet you may rest assured that what trifling amount of feeling I do experience in the matter, is rather of a friendly character than otherwise; and I think by your manner there is pecute inquiries in London to ascertain if such a lady | something you would wish at my hands. If so, wero known in the circles of fashion: but te my joy | | speak ; and hesitate not. Do you want money ?’—~ ® COMM ElOOO (CO