Agnes, or, Beauty and Pleasure — page 99: what you’re looking at

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

AGNES; OB, BEAUT and the depravity of their feelings will regard gold as a balm for those wounded hearts of theirs. But I am not one of them!” | “In the name of heaven, Cicely,” cried Hector | Hardress, “cut short this tirade, and tell me to what it is all to lead. We have already stood here for a good half-hour—and we shall presently attract disagreeable notice.” “To you, at least, such notice cannot be un- pleasant,” answered Cicely, with a haughty, ominous coolness of tone and manner,—“ inas- much as you voluntarily seek neighbourhoods of a confirmed evil repute. As for myself, I can speedily escape from the inconvenience of any special observation :”—and she drew the folds of her veil over her countenance. “As for that speech,” she continued, “which you have so un- generously and with so much want of manly cour- tesy denominated a tirade, I will cut it short. I no longer deceive myself with the slightest hope in your honour, your good faith—no, nor even in your compassion and your mercy. But you shall not trample, Hector Hardress, even upon the worm, with impunity !—for that worm shall turn against you. If you scorn and despise me, I will be'signally avenged !” “JT am sorry to hear you speaking in this strain, Cicely,” responded Hardress ; “ because it is really insensate on your part, and you will perbaps only drive me to the declaration that I defy such vague and empty threats.” “They are neither vague nor empty,” answered Miss Neale, with a strange firmness of tone, as if she were confident of being enabled to carry out her menaces with a fearful effect. “ It is impos- sible that an injured woman, who devotes herself heart and soul to the task of vengeance—who broods over it by day and dreams of it by night— who is ever on the watch for the opportunity to execute it—who is determined to shrink at nothing that may tend to the furtherance of her purpose —it is impossible, I say, that such a woman can ultimately fail in the attainment of her object. That opportunity may present itself to-morrow— or it may be patiently awaited for years: but still sooner or later it will come! Oh, rest as- sured that it will come! And now, Hector, I have no more to say. You have decided that hatred is to take the place of love: let it be so! She who was most devoted in her love, can prove most implacable in her hatred.”’ Having thus spoken, Cicely Neale glided rapidly away from the spot where she had for upwards of half-an-hour stood in discourse with the young patrician ; and he remained gazing after her with a certain vague sensation of dismay and affright, until she disappeared from his view in the nearest street diverging from the square. He then forced himself to give utterance to a low chuckling laugh of scorn and contempt: but by degrees these were veritably the feelings which took possession of his mind in regard to Cicely Neale, when the stronger and sterner influence which her parting words temporarily shed upon him had worn off, But let us return to Cicely Neale. When at some little distance from Fitzroy Square, she re- laxed her pace: she began to walk more slowly: she required leisure as it were to collect her thoughts and review deliberately everything that had taken place between herself and Hector Hard- Y AND PLEASURE 91 _—_— ress. Hatred was henceforth to become the sub- stitute for love; and it is a sad, sad period of a woman’s life—a fearful turning-point in her des- tiny, when she has to open her eyes to the tre- mendous reality of such a position as this. The letters which she had obtained at the house in Norton Street were now almost forgotten: she thought only of her blighted hopes—of the wrong she had sustained—of the perfidies which had made her a victim. She even forgot for some while that she was pursuing her way on foot instead of taking a cab,—until at last she stopped short, ejaculating within herself, ‘* All that I now feel is a weakness —whereas I ought to be strong !” Then a change took place within her. Witha mighty effort she repelled as it were the softness and the mournfulness of her emotions : she nerved herself as though it were for a struggle—as if she had undertaken some stupendous enterprise or some exploit needing a marvellous display of heroism. She summoned a cab, and proceeded to Lincoln’s Inn Fields. On returning to the lawyer’s house, Cicely Neale soon retired to her chamber, for it was now close upon eleven o’clock. She sat down to examine the packet of papers which she had brought ‘with her from Norton Street. And well was it for her that she had obtained possession of these docu- ments ; for she soon found that there were indeed letters amongst them, witten by Hector Hardress, which related to herself, and which compromised her even more than she could possibly have ap- prehended. She perceived that the love of Hector was never such as during her dream of bliss she had fancied it to be—and that from the very first he must haye intended to betray her. She saw that in these letters he spoke of her with a levity which was incompatible with a real affection—and that her seduction, instead of having heen the result of a moment when the passion of both was stronger than their discretion, was from the first a deliberately intended project on his part. It would be impossible to describe how the large blue eyes of Cicely Neale flamed up with the most sinister fires—how her whole countenance became con- vulsed with the workings of her inward emotions —and how between her pale lips and her gleaming teeth hissed forth more than once the words, “I will be avenged !” But amidst that packet of papers there were several other letters, in addition to those which, when a student at the University, Hector Hard- ress had written to Mrs, Chicklade. There were epistles from several noblemen and gentlemen, bearing different dates, and having reference to a variety of intrigues, in which the services of that infamous woman were required. But Cicely Neale experienced not the slightest interest in the mys- teries that were thus revealed to her knowledge: her whole thoughts were absorbed in everything that concerned herself. Nevertheless, she care- fully examined each successive letter which she took up; and the very iast one which came to her hand—the one which lay at the bottom of the pile, but which bore the most recent date— suddenly excited a new feeling of interest in her. She recognised the handwriting; and she was astounded. She opened the letter; and then her ‘wonderment grew into the most stupendous sur- 2 ee Rae OR Re Ee Gbooks CO