Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 190 — page 60: what you’re looking at

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

ee OC — + ooo _—_- eannct you spare me that additional torture which your visits cause me. ip “Why, my dear sister,’’ said the baron, ‘‘ did you not eentimentadlly announce to me, with that pretty mouth which ts to-day so cruel, that you came to England for a the sole purpose of seeing me without restraint —a plea- - gure ef which, you told me, you felt the privation so strongly, that you iad, for it, risked sea-sickness, storms and captivity. Well, here I am, and you ought to be satisfied. But, besides, I have a particular reason for is visit, this time,” f er ladyshi shuddere d, for she thought that Felton Fr. had spoken. fev rer, perhaps, in her whole life, had this woman, who had experienced so many strong and op- Sy posite emotions, felt 80 violent a beating of her heart. -, She was sitting down. Lord de Winter took a chair, Hy drew it to herside, and seated himself aon it, and he ; took @ paper from his pocket, which he slowly un- folded. ‘*Here,”’ said he: ‘‘I wish to show the sort of pass- port-which I have myself drawn up, and which will e verve as a kind of warrant, in the life which I permit | you to lead.’ | ae ; ‘a directing her ladyship’s eyes to the paper, he ; "Feud ;— PO ** ‘Order to convey to——— . ‘*The name is left blank,’’ said the baron ‘if you have , any preference, you will let me know, and, provided it ita be a thousand leagues from London, your request shall Bh beattendedto. So I resume—‘Order to conv ey to———_ nat) Charlotte Backson, branded by the justice of the king- dom of France, but liberated after punishment. She will reside in that place, without ever going more than _ three leagues from it. In case of any attempt to es- cape, she is to be put todeath. She will be allowed five shillings a day for her lodging and support. *This warrant does not concern me,"’ said her lacy- 1a ship, coldly, ‘‘since a name is inserted in it which is not ar mine.” 4 “A name! And have you one ?"’ * “T have that of your brother.”’ “You make a mistake: my brother was — our Wen second husband, and your first is still alive. me , his name, and | will ‘insert it instead of Charlotte ~ Os Backson. No, you will not—you are silent. Very well; : a _—_ , be registered under the name of Charlotte Her a isaydhtp remained silent: not now from affecta- ote tion, but from fear. She believed that the warrant was "5 ee, to be immediately executed; she thought that Lord de Winter had hurried forward her departure; she suspected even, that she was to go that very evening. or an bean instant, therefore, she re me that all hope was gone ios “ened she suddenly preceived that the warrant had no seal v a ure, : he joy she experienced at thia discovery was so great that she was unable to conceal it. ‘Yes, yes,”’ said Lord de Winter, whosaw what was passing in her mind; ** yes, you are ‘looking for the sig- mature, and you say ‘to yourself— all is not lost, since ‘the warrant is not signed : He shows it to me to Se frighten me, that is all.’ —But you deceive yourself; this ret warrant will be sent to-morrow to the Duke of Bucking- & ham; on the da after it will be returned, signed by ay , and sealed with his seal; and four-and-twenty | h on hig — after, 7 answer for it that the execution of it shall have been begun. , Adieu, madam; this fs all that I have ae got to say to you.’ A) ‘* And sani to you ait, that this deed of power, t his anishment under a false name, are infamous !”’ y . “Would your merge prefer being han ed under M. na true name? ou know that the English laws are exorable concerning the abuse of the siate age contract. se lA! 0 y/ Explain yourself freely. Although my name, or rather Me my brother's, is mixed u war all this, I will risk the we scandal of a public trial, be sure of my aimin . getting rid of you. Her ladyship made no answer; but she became as oot ” pale as 2 lifeless form, i ek “Oh, I‘ see you would rather travel. very well, ivy. madam; there is a proverb which says that trave “ag nm beneficial to youth. Faith, you are right after all. Life Jail is sweet: and that is the reason why I am not very 7 ne anxious that you should take mine away. There re- ee y maar then, only the settlement of the five shillings a I am a little too go Spee ere am I not? Bet it is because I do not wish yon tocorrupt your es keepers. Besides, you will still have your charms to fine > seduce them with. Try them, if your failure as to Fel- ! ton has not disgusted you with attempts of that kind.” ‘* Felton has not spoken,’ said her ladyship to her- self: ‘‘so nothing ix lost afteu all.”’ “ And now, madam, farewell; to-morrow I will c ome and “de »prise you of the de :parture of my messenger.’ ati + de Winter arose, bowed sarcastically to her lady- (, 4 a ip, and left the room. cr ladyship — again. She had yet four days | Y 2 4 wore: her; and four days would serve her to complete ie seduction of Felton. - ¥¥ ane yet a _ tcrrible idea suggested itself to her mind. | Perhaps Lord de Winter might send Felton himself with ae the warrant to Buckingham; and thus Felton would es- f cape her; to ensure her success, it was necessary that | rt | _ the magic charm of her seduction should be undis- ee turbed. Yet, as we have said, one thing re-assured her; Fel- & ton had not spoken. She did not wish to appear disheartened by the threats Sr ‘ of Lord de Winter: she therefore placed herself at the Bi table, and ate. ‘Then, as she had done the night before, fis K she ell u - Bree , and rapa ee prayers tas r prayers alou as on revious evening, u : the soldier ceased his walk, and ston fl listen. 7 Ved 7” Sag But she soon heard ate hter than those of the sentinel, approaching oy e end of the corri- Tes and which ceased before her door. ce ltd is bet” she said. And she began the same re- RE ous strains which had so violently excited Felton on evening before. THE THREE GUARDSMEN. eee —_——___ -.-- — But, although her soft, full, sonorous voice now thrill- ed more touchingly and more harmoniously than ever, the door continued closed. It did indeed appest to her ladyship, in one of those furtive glances which she di- rected to the little wicket, that she could perceive, through the close grating, the ardent e yes of the youn man; but whether this was a reality or a vision, he ha at least sufficient self- control, on this occasion, to keep himself from coming in. Yet, afew minutes after the conclusion of her religi- ous hymn, her ladyship fancied that she heard a deep sigh, and then the same steps that she had heard ap- proaching, retired slowly, and, as it were with reluct- ance. CHAPTER LIII. THE FOURTH DAY OF IMPRISONMENT. When Felton entered the room the next day, he found her ladyship ‘monnted on a chair, holding in her | hand a cord made of some cambric handkere hiefs, torn into strips, twisted together, and fastened end to end, At the noise Felton made in opening the door, her lady- | ship jumped lightly off the chair, and endeavored to | conceal behind her the extemporaneous cord which she held in her mana The young man was even more pale than usual, and | his eyes, red from want of sleep, proved that he had passed through a feverish n ight. And yet his forehead | ore a serenity more austere than ever. He slowly advanced towards her en who had seated herself, and took hold of the end of t is murder- ous woof, which inady ertently, or perhaps intentionally, she had left unconcealed, ‘*What is this, madam?” he asked coldly. ‘That? Nothing!” said her ladyship, suilling with that melancholy expression which she so well knew how to impress upon her smile. ‘* Weariness you know, is the mortal enemy of prisoners. I was wearied, and, therefore, I amused myse!f with twisting this cord.” Fe)ton cast his eyes up to that part of the wall where he had seen her ladyship standing on the chair which she now was sitting on, and, above her head, he saw a gilded hook, fastened on the wall, which was placed there to support either clothes or arms. He started, and the prisoner saw him start: for, though Ler eyes were cast down, nothing escaped her observation. “And why were you standing on this chair?’ he asked. ** What does it signify to you?” a the lady. “But,” resumed elton, ** _desire to know.”’ “Do not question me,’ ‘said the prisoner: ** you know that to ns true Christians it is forbidden to speak falsehood.’ ** Well,” said Felton. ‘I will tell you what you were doing, or, rather, what you were about to do. You were about to complete the fatal work which you med- itated. Remember, madam, if your God has forbid- den — to speak falachood, he has much more emphat- icall forbidden you to commit suicide.” en God sees one of his creatures unjuatly per- pelted placed, as it were, between suicide and dis- honor-——believe me, sir,’’ replied her ladyship, in a tone “a conviction, “ God wil pardon suicide, for ‘ide then becomes martyrdom,”’ ‘*You either say to much, or too little, Speak, ma- dam: in the name of heaven, explain yourself!’’ ‘**What! shall I relate my misfortunes to you, that you may treat them as fables—shall I tell yon my de- signs, that you may disclose them to my persecutor! No, sir! Besides, of what consequence can the life or death of an unhappy convict be to you? You are only fe pene pai for my body, are you not? And provided tha the produced a dead body, which could be recog- nised as mine, no more would be required of you, and perhaps even migh t receive a double recompense.’ ‘*] madam—!" exclaimed Felton. ‘Then you sup- es that I would ever receive a price for your life? ne u do not think what you are pleased to say!”’ “ave me to myself, Felton—leave meto myself,” said herjladyship, with some excitement; ‘‘every soldier ought to be am vitions, ought he not? You are alieu- tenant: well, you would follow at my funeral with the rank of capta a,” “ But what have I done to you, then?” said Felton, much agitated, ‘that you shonld burden me with such heavy responsibility before God and men? In afew em fi vou will be far awayfrom here, madam. Your life will then be no longer under my care; and,” he added with a sigh, ‘‘then—then, you can do with it what you will,”’ So!” exclaimed her ladyehip, as if she was unable to restrain her holyindignation, ‘You, apiousman—yon, who are regarded as a just man—you only demand one thing, and that is, not to be inculpated, not to be incon- venienced, by my death.” “ It ismy duty to watch over your life, madam, and I will do so. ‘* But, do you understand the duty you discharge? It | is cruel, even if I were guilty; but what name will you ive it—with what term will the Almighty brand it—if am innocent?” * Tam a soldier, madam; and I execute the orders that I have received.”’ *‘And do you believe that, at the day of final judg- ment, the Almighty will make a distinction betw een the hoodwinked executioner and the et judge? You will not allow me to kill my body, and yet, ou make My cians the instrument of him who wishes to my £0 ‘ But, I repeat to you,” said Felton, much moved “that no danver threatens you: I will answer. for Lord de Winter, as for myself:”’ ‘Madman!’ exclaimed her ladyship, ‘ poor madman, who presumes to answer for another, when the wisest those who are the most after God’s own heart, are afraid of answering for them- selves, and join the party of the strongest aud most fortunate, to overwhelm the weakest and most misere ble!” ‘**Impossible, madam, impossible!” muttered Felton, who yet felt in his heart's core the justice of this argu- ment; ‘‘ whilst a prisoner, you wil not recover your libert; through me; w hilst alive, you will not lose your life by my connivance. “Yes,” exclaimed her ladyship, ‘‘ but I shall lose what is much dearer to me than life—I shall lose my honor, Felt.n; and it is you whom I will make respon- sible, before God and man, for my shame and infamy!” | On this oecasion, Felton, insensible as he was, or as he pretended to be, could’ no longer resist the secret influence which had alread enthralled him. To see this woman, so beautifal, fait as the brightest vision— to hear her by turns imploring and threaiening—to suffer at the same time under the ascendancy of grief and beauty, was too much for a brain whose strength was sapped by the ardent dreams of an ecstatic faith; | it was too much for a heart corroded, at the same time. by the love of Heaven, which burns, ‘and by the hatred of mankind, which destroys Her -lady ship erceivec ‘his agitation: she felt, as it were by intuition, the contending passions which burned with the blood in the young fanatic’s veins; and, like a skilful general, who sees the | enemy preparing to retreat, and then rushes upon him with a shout of victory, she arose— beautiful as a priestess of antiquity—inspired as a Christian virgin—and, with extended arms, and neck uncovered, and dishevelled hair—with a hand modestly confining her dress upon her bosom, and with a glance illuminated by that fire which had already carried disorder into the senses of a young puritan, she walked towards him, uttering, to an impetuous air, in that sweet voice, to which she gave so terrible an emphasis— ‘To Baal his victim send; To lions castthe marty es Yet vengeance is God's charter! To Him, my cries ascend.” Felton stood like one petrified. ‘*Who are you? What are you?’ exclaimed he, clasp- ing his hands: ‘‘ are youan angel ora demon? Are you Eloas or Astarte?’’ ‘*Have you not recognised me, Felon? Iam neither angel nordemon: I am but a daughter of the earth, a sister of the faith; .—nothing more*”’ ‘Yes, yes,” raid Felton, ‘‘1 suspected it at first, but now I am convinced.”’ ** You are convinced! And yet you are the accomplice of that child of Belial, whom men call Lord de Winter. You are convinced, and yet you leave me inthe hands of my enemies—of the enemy of England, and of the enemy of God! You are convinced, and yet ou deliver me up to him who fills and pollutes the world with his heresies and debaucheries—to that infamous Sardanap- alus, whom the blind call Bockdawhasn. and the beliey- ers Antichrist!"’ “T deliver you up to Buckingham! I! What mean your words?’ ‘They have eyes,” exclaimed the lady, ‘and they will not see; they have ears, and they will not hear.” “Yes, yes,’ said Felton, ‘drawing his hand over his dewy forehad, as if to drag away his last remaining doubt; ** yea, 1 recognize the voice that speaks to mein my dreams; yes, 1 recognize the features of the angel ich visits me each night, crying to my sleepless soul —strike! save England! save thyself! for thou wilt die without having appeased the Lord! Speuk,” eried Felton, ‘* speak! I can understand you now.” A flash of fearful de light, but rapid as thought, gleamed from her ladyship's eyes. Fugitive as was this homicidal glance, Felton per- ceived it, and started, as if it had thrown light into the dark abysses of that woman's heart, He suddenly recalled the warnings of Lord de Winter, the seductions of her ladyship, and her first attempts on her arrival; he retreated a step, and droo his head, but without ceasing to regard rer; as if, fascinated by this singular being, he could not turn hise es away, Her seyenip was not the woman tom misunderstand the meaning of this hesitation. In the midst of these apparent emotions, her ite coldness did not leave her. Before she had been obliged, by Felton's answer, to resume a conversation which it would be go difficult to maintain in the same exalted tone, she let her hands fall, as if the weakness of the woman resumed its ascendancy over the enthusi iasm of the inspired saint. ** But, no,’’ suid she, ‘it is not for me:to be the Judith who will deliver Bethulia from this Holofernes. The sword of the Eternal One is too heavy for my arm. Let me, then, escape dishonor by death—let me nd arefuge in martyrdom. I neither ask for liberty, like a crimi- nal; nor for vengeance, like a pagan, ‘To be alowed to die, is allthatI demand. I entreat you, implore you on my knees—let me die—and my last sigh shall breathe forth a blessing on my preserver!”’ At this voice, so sot so timid and submissive, Felton advanced towards her By degrees, the enchantress had resumed that magic charm which she took up and laid. aside at pleasure: that is to say, beauty, softness, tears, and, above all, the irresistible attraction of that mystic al voluptuousness which is the most irresisti!le of all yo Uptuousness. ** Alas!” said Felton, ‘‘Ican only pity you, if you prove to me that you area victim, But L rd de Winter makes most serious complaints against you. You are a Christian woman—you are my sister in the faith. I fec! myself drawn towards you—I, who have neverlovedany one but my benefactor—I, who have only found traitors and infidels, throughout my life. But you, madam— FOR so truly beautiful—you, apparent] ure, must ave committed many crimes for Lo de inter tu pursue you thus.” ‘“* They have eyes,’” repeated the lady, with Indescrib- able sofiness, “and they will not see ‘they have ears, and they will not hear.” and supplicating—at this look, . f ; 4 a . LOL se