Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 190 — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

- re ee 7 *, ; } 7 y - re * te ’ \ He was afraid then of secing her too often. She turned aside to smile; for there was so much of triumph in that smile, that it alone would have betrayed r. She allowed a hulf-hour to elapse; and as every thing was then entirely silent in the old castle—as no sound was heard but the eternal murmur of the surge, that mighty respiration of the sea—with her pure thrilling and harmonious voice she began a couplet of the psalms - which was then in great favor with the Puritans: —_ ‘a magic and an expression which the most exa!ted ‘Thou leavest us, oh Lord! To prove if we are strong; But then, thou dost afford The need that to exertion should belong.” These verses were not excellent: they were indeed,far enough from it; but as every man knows, the protestants did not pride themselves on poetry. Even as she sung, her ladyship listened. The sen- tinel on duty had ‘eens asif transformed to stone. il ig oe judged by that of the effect she had pro- duc s ’ She then continued her psalm, with a fervor and feeling which are indescribable. It seemed to her as though the sound diffused itself afar off beneath the arches, and went like a magic charm to melt the hearts of her oppressors. Nevertheless it appeared asif the soldier on guard, a zealous Catholic, no doubt, shook off the cha’ m, for through the wicket, which he opened, he exclaimed— ‘Be silent, madam! Your song is as melancholy asa ‘de profundis;’ and if, besides the pleasure of being shut up in this garrison, we must be compelled al+o to hear these things, it will become perfectly unbearable.”’ ‘Silence there!’’ cried a severe voice, which the lady recognized as that of Felton. +‘ What business is it of yours, fellow? Did any one order you to hinder that woman from singing? No. You were told to guard her—to fire upon her if she sttempted to ba SR eee her, then; shoot her if she tries to escape; but go not beyond your orders. An inexpressible gleam of joy illuminated the lady’s countenance; but this expression was transient as the hehtnings flash; and, without appearing to have heard the diaologue, of which she had not lost a word, she resumed her singing, giving to her voice all the charm, all the power, all the seduction, with which Satan had endowed it— ‘For all my fears and cares, For exile, and for chains, IT have my youth, my prayers, And God, who keeps a record of my pains?” ' That voice, of uncommon power and of sublime pas- sion, gave to the rude unpolished poetry of these ps ne puri- tansrarely found in the songs of their brethren, and which they were compelled to adorn with all the aids of imagination. Felton thought that he was listening to the singing of the angel who conforted the three Israe- lites inthe fiery furnace:— ‘* But God, the just and strong! Our morn of freedom sends— And should our hopes be wrong, Still martyrdom, still death, our trials ends!” This last couplet, into which the enchantrees had in- fused her whole soul, completed the disorder in the young officer's heart. He opened the door suddenly, and her ladyship saw his countenance, as pale as ever, but with flashing and almost delirious eyes. “Why do you sing in this manner,” said he, ‘‘and in such tones?’ ‘* Par.on me, sir,” said her ladyship, softly; ‘I for- ot that my songs were not becoming in this howtse. I Rave no doubt wounded your religious feelings, but I assure you thatit was unintentionally. Pardon, there- fore, a fault which may be great, but which was certain- ly involuntary.” Her ladyship looked so beautiful at that moment, and the religious enthusiasm which she had assumed had riven such an expression to her countenance, that Felton, completely dazzled, fancied that he now saw the angel which be had before only hear. ‘** Yes, yes!” replied he, ** yes, you trouble, you agitate the inhabitants of the castle.” But the poor madman did not perceive the incoher- ence of his own language, whilst her ladyship plunged her eri eye into the very depths of his heart. ‘*]T will silent,’’ said she, casting down her eyes, with all the softness that she could giveto her voice, and with all the resignation which she could impress upon her manner. “No, no, madam,” said Felton: ‘‘ only, do not sing so loudly, and especially at night.” After these words, Felton found that he could no longer preserve his usual severity towards his prisoner, and he rushed out of the room, “ You are right, lieutenant,” said the soldier; “ those songs disturb the soul; yet one becomes in time accus- tomed to them—the voice is so beautiful!” CHAPTER LI. THE THIRD DAY OF IMPRISONMENT, Felton was attracted; but more than this must yet bo done: it was necessary to retain him; or, rather, it was meer oy, Ye he should remain of himself; and her ladyship had only an obscure preception of the means by which this result must be achieved. But even more was needed, He must be made to eak, that she might also speak to him; for her lady- ip was well aware that her most seductive power was in her voice, which could run skilfully through the whole scale of tones, from mortal speech upwards to the laaguage of heaven. And yet, in spite of all this seduction, her ladyship might fail; for Felton had been forewarned net her, even to the minutestchance. From this time she studied THE THREE GU. ARDSMEN- —_— —- — 1 all her actions, all her words and even her slightest glance and ges ure, nay, even her respiration, which might be interpreted asasigh. In short, she studied everything, like a skilful actress who has just accepted a new char- acter in a line which she has never been accustomed to perform. Before Lord de Winter her behavior was less difficult, and she had therefore determined upon that the evening before. To remain silent and dignified in his presence —from time to time to irritate him by affected con- tempt, or by a disdainful expression—to urge him to menaces and violence, which contrasted so completely with her own perfect resignation—such was her — ship’s plan. Felton would see this; yyy he would say nothing; but at any rate, he would see it. n the morning, Felton came as usual; but her lady- ship allowed him to preside over all the preparations for breakfast, without addressing him. At the very mo- ment that he was about to leave the room, she had a leam of hope, for she thought that he wasreally about 0 speak: but his lips moved withoutany sound issuing from them, and controlling himself by an effort, he suppressed in his own breast the words which he had nearly uttered, and withdrew. About noon, Lord de Winter entered. It was rather a fine summer's day, and a beam of that pale English sun, which enlightens, but does not warm, penetrated through the bars of the prison. Her ladyship looked out of the window, and pretend- ed not to have heard the door open. “Ah, ah!” said Lord de Winter, ‘after having represented comedy and tragedy, we are now doing melanchoby.” The prisoner did not answer, ~~ 1? ” cont nued his lordship; ‘‘ I understand it very well. You would ladly enough be free upon this berch. You would gladly enough, in some ship, glide through the waves of that sea, which is as green asan emerald. You would gladly enough, whether on land or on the ocean, concoct against me one of those pretty little plots which you are so dextrous in contriv- ng. Patience, patience! In four days you shall be permitted to approach the beach, and the sea will be open to youn—more open ere than you wonld wish —for in four days England will be rid of you.”’ Her ladyship clasped her hands and raised her eyes to 1eaven. | ‘*Lord! Lord!’ exclaimed she, with an angelic sweet- ness of qe and of intonation, “ forgive this man, as I myself fo: give him!”’ ‘Yes, pray, accursed creature,’ exclaimed the baron. ‘** Your prayer is the more generous, as you are in the power of a man who, I swear, will never pardon you.” And he left the room, At the moment he went out, a piercing glance through the ha!lf-opened door epabled her to perceive Felton, who drew himself quickly up that he might not be seen. She then threw herself upon her knees, and began to ray: ‘*My God-—my God!” said she, “‘thou knowest for what sacred cause I suffer: give me, therefore, strength to bear my trials.” The door opened softly: the beautiful supplicant pre- tended not to have heard it, and with a voice almost suffocated by tears, she continued: “Oh, God, the avenger! oh, God of mercy! wilt thou pane hs wicked designs of this man to be accom- g 2B) Z Then only she a footsteps; and ris d to hear the sound of Felton’s g as emg od as eg she blushed as though ashamed at being seen upon her knees. **T do not like to interrupt those who pray,”’ gravely observed Felton, ‘‘so do not disturb yourself on my account, I beseech you, madam.” ‘* How do you know that I was praying, sir?*’ said her ladyship, in a voice suffocated with sobs; ‘‘ you are mistaken, sir, I was not praying," ‘*Do you think, then, madam,” ry Felton, in his habitual grave voice, but with a gentler accent, ‘‘that I assume to myself the right of hindering a fellow-crea- ture from throwing herself at the foot of her Creator? God forbid! Besides repentance is becoming in the guilty, whatever crime they may have committed; and a criminal, prostrate before God, is sacred in my eyes.”’ “I, guilty!’ replied the lady, with a sini’e which would have disarmed the _— atthe day of judgment. *‘Guilty! Oh, my God! thou knowest what Iam! Say thatl am condemned, sir—yet you know that God, who loves martyrs, sometimes permits the innocent to be con- demned.” ** Were you condemned, were you innocent, and were you a martyr,” replied Felton, ‘‘you would have still more reason to pray, and I would myself assist you with my gine ‘Oh, you are a just man!” exclaimed her ladyship”’ throwing herself at hisfeet. ‘‘Ican no a restrain myself, for I fear that my strength will fail me at the moment wherein I must endure the trial, and confess my faith. Listen, then, to the supplication of a woman in despair. They deceive you, sir. But that is not the ‘eek I only ask one favor of you, and, if you grant it, will bless you both in this world and the next.” ‘Speak to my superior, madam,” said Felton, *‘ For- tunately, I have no commission either to pardon or to punish: it is to one higher than me that God has given this responsibility.” “To you—no, to you alone. Listen to me rather than contribute to my destructive and my shame.” “If you have deserved this disgrace, madam—if you have incurred this ignominy—you should bear it as an offpring to God.” What mean your words? Oh! you do not under- stand me. When I talk of ignominy, you think that 1 speak of some punishment—of imprisonment, or of death. Would to God it were so! What care I for death or imprisonment ?”’ “It is I that do not understand you now, madam,” said Felton, —— — +--+ = — = — ss mT LL LT LT Rl | that I would not destro replied the ~ “ Or who pretend that you no longer understand me,”* risoner, with a smile of doubt. ‘* No, madam, by the honor of a soldier, by the faith of a Christian |"’ ‘* What! do you not know the designs which'Lord de Winter has against me?” ‘*T do not know them.”’ ‘Impossible! You are his confident.” ‘*Madam, I never tell falsehoods!” ‘Oh! but he is too unreserved for yon to have failed to guess them.” ‘Madam, I never attempt to guess anything. I al- ways wait for confidence! and, except what Lord de Winter has saidin your presence, he has told me noth- ing.” ‘Then,’ exclaimed the lady, with an indescribable accent of truth, ‘‘ you are not his accomplice? You did not know that he destines for me a disgrace, which all the punishments on earth could not equal in horror 7" ‘You are mistaken, madam;"’ said Felton, coloring; ‘* Lord de Winteris not capableof such acrime.”’ **Good!” said the lady to herself: ‘* without khowing what it is, he caHed it a crime.” Then,’ she added, alound— ‘‘The friend of the wretchis capable of anything.” ‘And whom do you call the wretch?" said Felton. ‘“‘ Are there, then, two men in England to whom that term can be appropriatet™ “ You mean George Villers,” said Felton, ‘Whom the Pagans, the ee and the infidels. call Duke of Buckingham,”’ resumed her ladyship. -* } would not have believed that there was a manin a) England who would have required so much explanation to recognise the person I alluded too,” ‘The hand ef the Lord is stretched over him be will not escape the punishment that he deserves.”’ Felton only expressed, concerding the duke that sen- timent of execration which had been vowed by every Englishman against him, whom catholics themselves called the tyrant, the extortioner, and the profligate; and whom the puritans simply termed Satan. ‘* Oh, my God! my God!" exclaimed the lady, “how I beseech thee to inflict upon that man the punishment which is his due. Thon knowest that I seek the grati- fication of my own revenge, but, that I implore the de- liverence of all the people.” ‘‘ Do you know him then, madam?” inquired Felton. ‘‘He questions me at last!'"’ said her ear to herself, delighted at having so quickly gained thie great result. { ‘*Oh, yes! [know him! Oh, yes! to my misfortune —to my eternal misfortune!”’ ‘ And her ladyship.writhed her arms, as if in a parex- ysm of grief. Felton no doubt felt that his strength was givin he made some steps towards the door; but the who did not lose sight of him, bounded after stopped his progress, ‘“*Sir,”’ sald she, ‘‘ be good—hear my prayer! That knife, of wuich the fatal prudence of the baron deprived me, because ho knew the use that I should make of it— oh, hear me to the end!—that knife, return 'it to me only for one instant, for mercy’s sake, for pity’s sake! I embrace your knees! See! You may shut the door— I donot want to injure you, Oh,God! How could] have any design again ou—you, the only just, and good, and compassionate being that I have met with!— you, perhaps, my preserver! e minute, the knife— only one minute! I will return it to you through the wicket of the door! Only one minute, Mr. Felton, and you will have saved my honor.” “To kill yourself!’’ exclaimed Felton, in great terror, and forgetting to withhraw his hands from the hands of his prisoner—* to kill yourself!”’ ‘“*T have said it sir,” murmured the lady, dropping her voice, and sinking exhausted on the floor: ‘I have di- — my secret! He knows all, and oh, my God! I am ost.”’ Felton remained standing, motionless and undecided. ‘*He still doubts,’ thought the lady. ‘‘I have not been true enough to the character I am acting.”’ Some one was heard in the corridor; and her ladyship recognized the slow step of Lord de Winter. Felton also recognized it and approached the door. | Her ladyship rushed forward. **Oh! not one word,” she cried, in a concentrated voice. ‘ Not to that man one word of what I have said to you, or I am lost; and itis you—you—”’ hen, as the &teps drew nearer; she was silent, lest her voice should be heard, and merely pressed her beau- uiful hand on Felton’s lips, with a gesture of infinite terror. ee softly repulsed her, and she sunk upon a couch, Lord de Winter passed by the door without stopping, and his departing steps were heardin the distance. Felton, pale as a corpse, stood for some moments in- tently listening: then, when the sound had entirely ceased, he breathed like a man awaking from a dream, and rushed out of the room, ** Ah!’’ said her ladyship, as she listened in turn 10 the sound of Felton’s steps, as he retreated in the di- rection opposite to that of Lord de Winter, ‘at last, then you are mine!” Butinstantly her countenance grew dark. , “If he should speak to the baron,” said slic, “JT am ruined; for the baron, who well knows myself, will place me n my hands, and he will at way: soner. im, and before him with a knife once preceive that all this great ir is but a farce.” She went and stood before a and gazed upon herself. Never had she been more ful him" yes,’ she said smiling,‘ but he will not tell In the evening, Lord de Winter came in, when the — supper was broupt. Sir,’ said fc -adyship to him, ‘is your presence to be @ compuisorv aggravation of my imprisonme}, and 7 G@ (E} 0/0 )(9)