The Seamstress; or, The White Slave of England — page 133: what you’re looking at

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

126 surances,”’ said the Duke, “shall I return hither to you? or is our interview at an end for the pre- sent ?” The Duchess was on the point of desiring her husband to come back to her in order that they might discourse upon Collinson’s claims, alike pecuniary and matrimonial: but remembering that Charles had especially undertaken to manage the lawyer, her Grace held her peace upon that head and intimated that there was no necessity for the Duke and herself to meet again that fore- noon. The Duke accordingly quitted the library, where the Duchess now remained alone, to ruminate upon all that had just taken place between her husband and herself, CHAPTER XL. A HURRIED SERIES OF INCIDENTS. Burt the reverie of the Duchess of Belmont did not on this occasion last many minutes without interruption. It was broken by the entrance of the Marquis of Arden, her son-in-law, to whom her Grace immediately communicated the whole particulars of her interview with the Duke. A considerable weight was lifted from the mind of the young nobleman when he thus learnt that his father had manifested so much contrition and do- cility; and, in his turn, he informed the Duchess that he had secured the services of an active man of business who had gone at once to redeem Lovel’s forged bills from the hands of Collinson and the other party holding them. | “TT had a particular object in view,’ said Charles, with a sombre air of decision, “ when I bade the solicitor settle with Collinson first.” “What mean you, Charles?” demanded the Duchess. ‘‘Oh! your looks frighten me!” she ex- claimed, with agitated manner and thrilling voice. “Once more I ask what you mean with respect to Collinson ?” “T mean,” returned the Marquis of Arden, de- cisively, “that it is better Collinson should give up Lovel’s forged bills before he and I happen to meet: or else the lawyer may not live to give them up at all—and his heirs might choose to prosecute the forger instead of agreeing to the compromise. Now do you understand me, mother-in-law P” But before she could give any verbal answer,— which was scarcely necessary, Inasmuch as her looks denoted the trouble with which the young man’s words had filled her mind,—the door was opened with hurried violence, and the Duke of Belmont entered the library. His countenance wore an expression of savage and profoundly con- centrated rage: his eyes glowered from beneath the corrugated, overhanging brows—the white lips quivered nervously—and the harsh lir-es into which his visage had contracted, seemed ‘iterilly dug into the flesh. It was evident that a pent-up vol- ‘cano was raging in his soul; and the Duchess trembled, while even the young Marquis shrank back in dismay from the awful menace of the old man’s aspect. “Madam,” he said, in a thick hoarse voice which gasped for articulation, while he fixed his THE SEAMSTRESS. SS Ee — ~_— —— eyes with hyena-like ferocity upon the Duchess,-— “you led me to believe that Mrs. Lovel had be- trayed everything to my son—whereas she has be- trayed nothing. She has not even seen him for a long time past. What, then, am I to conclude? That one of you has been playing the part of a vile eaves-dropper—acting the spy upon either a father or a husband—or perhaps both of you have been performing the delectable game of lis- teners ?” “Father, I at once take all your upbraidings to myself,’ exclaimed Charles, standing forward with arms folded on his breast, but with an air of profound mournfulness rather than of defiance. * You must therefore acquit my mother-in-law,” he added, “of any sinister proceeding towards yourself.” “ Be it so, sir,” cried the Duke, whose glances were positively ferocious as his eyes glared upon his son. “And I presume that you have heard all my secrets—you have listened to everything— you know all ~ “IT know too much—too much—at any rate, father !” exclaimed Charles, his own choler now rising. “I know, for instance, that you have stood between me and my happiness—that you have been the means of separating me from her whom I love O God! how can I retain my patience when [ think of all this? ”’—and the young nobleman’s voice thrilled wildly through the room, as he pressed his hands to his throbbing brow. “Charles—my dear Charles—do not upbraid me—do not curse your father!” exclaimed the Duke, a sudden terror seizing upon him and all his fury subsiding in a moment. ‘“ Charles—my dear boy Augusta, speak to him-—speak to him in my behalf!” cried the unhappy man, as he turned in agonizing entreaty towards the Duchess. “ Father, you know not how great a mischief you have done me!”’ said Charles, in a deep, hol- low voice, as he drew his hands abruptly away from his brow and bent upon his sire a counte- nance that was impressed with blank, indescri- bable woe. ‘ Look at me—pbehold my pale cheeks—my sunken eyes—my wasted form! At three-and-twenty I am as old, as worn, and as near the grave as other men ordinarily are at fifty! The vigour of my youthfulness is gone— the blood already runs languidly in my veins— my energies are crushed—my mind is shattered ! Hope is to me a withered flower—and despair spreads its vampyre-like wings over my heart! But who hath done all this P—who hath seized me in the giant grasp of cruelty and dashed me down from the pinnacle of my happiness to the abyss of irremediable woe? You, my father—you have done it all. Yes—look upon your work—behold your son hastening to the tomb—and then say what profit thou hast gained by persecuting him thus!” The voice of the young man was laden with the accents of wildest grief, and his looks denoted an excitement bordering upon frenzy. His father cowered before the outraged, indignant youth, as if his eyes flashed avenging lightnings and his tongue fulminated crushing thunders ;—and the Duchess, paralyzed with mingled horror and dis- may, gazed with frightened looks upon the awful scene, but spoke no word, ee ee —_