The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 82: what you’re looking at

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- ST SE EAS <a SSNS | AR a ye SS ee TE, THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. 68 the middle of the avenue at the same moment: “J could swear that I heard a rustling again in this thicket of evergreens on the right hand!” “The same circumstance likewise struck me,” said Venetia, with unruffled composure. “ But if you have been recounting to my ears some secret the revelation of which may involve your- self in an unpleasant dilemma, I pray you to ob- serve that I did not seek this confidence on your part.” ‘You speak, Miss Trelawney,” replied the Colo- nel, in a trembling tone, “as if you really wanted your words to reach the ears of listeners, if such there be amongst those evergreens.” ©] again declare, Colonel Malpas,” said Vene- tia, with a calmness and an indifference that were most acutely galling to those feelings that had just rendered his voice termulous with increasing petulance, mortification, and rage,—“I again de- clare that I attach no importance whatsoever to the romance with which you have been so kindly endeavouring to amuse me, doubtless for want of other topics of interest.” “Miss Trelawney,” said the Colonel, in a voice that trembled more and more—while he slowly led her along the avenue, all thought of the rust- ling in the bushes having fled from his memory in the deepening excitement to which his feelings were thus subjected,—“ Miss Trelawpey, do you mean me to understand that you do not believe the truth of the communication I have ventured to breathe to your ears ?” “J will answer you frankly and candidly, sir,” responded Venetia, looking straight forward as she walked by his side with her hand just resting upon his arm. ‘You tell me of a party of indivi- duals who have made me the subject of some wager which you yourself denounce in the strongest terms: and yet you inform me in the same breath that these persons are all intimate friends of your own, and whose intimacy you do not choose to abandon on that account. I must either suppose, then, that you openly wink at their bad proceed- ings, while in private you speak so emphatically to me—or that you yourself are one of the indivi- duals who have made me the subject of their wager, and that you are betraying your fellow- conspirators. Now, in either case, Colonel Mal- pas, your character as a man of honour would not be enhanced in my estimation: and therefore, as I cannot of course turn round upor you, and say that you are a false traitor in ohe way or the other, [ must of course treat the whole rhodomon- tade as a pleasant romance which your fertile brain has conceived in order to while away the time.” ‘“‘Miss Trelawney,” said the Colonel, trembling with concentrated fury, “you make but a bad re- turn for my confidence and my good intentions,” “But I did not seek your confidence, sir,’ re- plied Venetia, in that tone which conveyed re- monstrance and rebuke in its very calmness : “ and I can give you no credit for good intentions.” “Miss Trelawney,” rejoined Colonel Malpas, in a voice that was low, but deeply accentuated, “ you had better make me your friend than your enemy.” “If you dare to address me in this manner, sir,” exclaimed Venetia, stopping short in the middle of the avenue—withdrawing her hand from his arm—and bending upon him a look that was full of dignity,—“ I should do well to seek the protec- tion of Lady Wenlock, who I am certain did not present you to me with the anticipation that I should experience this unmanly conduct at your hands.” “ Miss Trelawney, you are too sensible to create a@ scene—I know you are—I am sure of it,” said the Colonel, surveying her with a malignant sneer. “ And therefore you may as well learn at once the truth from my lips,—which is that I love and adore you, and that I will compel you—aye, compel you —to look favourably upon me in return! Now, understand me, Miss Trelawney—I have set my whole soul—my very life—upon one enterprise : and that is, to achieve your conquest, haughty beauty that you are! By fair meaus or by foul, I will accomplish my aim Ah! you may think to scorch me with the indignant looks of those flash- ing eyes—or to overwhelm me with that disdain which you have at this moment assumed! But I will act as an unscrupulous ruffian—lI will play a fiend’s part—I will even out-herod all the scoundrels that ever yet practised their scoundrelism against woman,—yes, all this will I do if you force me to extremes! For I will destroy your reputation—I will blast your fame—I will whisper to one and breathe in the ear of another that I have possessed you—that you are my mistress—that I am secretly blessed with your favours—aye, and I will even forge amatory epistles, signed by your name, to show confidentially to my friends as proofs of all the tales that I shall thus whisper concerning thee! ‘This is the course which I will pursue, Miss Trelawney: and even though you may be the purest of virgins, yet will I bring you to be looked upon as the most profligate of Messalinas. Now, then—you know the nature of the warfare which I am resolved to wage. I give you one fortnight to deliberate: and, if by mid-day on the second Wed- nesday from this date, I do not receive a favour- able letter from you, I will at once enter without pity and without remorse upon this tremendous crusade which I have shadowed out for your con- templation.” The Colonel ceased—and stood with folded arms in the presence of Venetia Trelawney. His coun- tenance was deadly pale—his lips were ashy white and quivering: it was evident that he was both astonished and alarmed at his own immense audacity in the part to the full performance of which he had worked himself up. His whole ap- pearance was that of acoward whom circumstances have for the moment imbued with the courage of desperation, but who can still scarcely believe that he has actually and positively done the deed the effect of which he pauses to contemplate. But how had Venetia Trelawney received that matchless outpouring of scoundrelism—that atro- cious complication of ‘diabolical menaces? At oS e first she had listened in cold contempt—then with | fiery indignation—then with superb disdain—next in utter amazement—and lastly with haughty de- | fiance: but never for a single moment with fear or dismay. Nothing could exceed the perfect gran- deur of ber beauty, as she stood gazing in silence, but collectedly and undauntedly, upon that man who had developed by degrees the sneaking paitri- ness of his disposition, and had attained a climax of villany by a rapid transition into the character of a cowardly ruffian. | | im Go 0)(0)(0) (C 3 O