Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 61: what you’re looking at

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

48 police, and twice condemned to death—but on both occasions had escaped under circumstances which unmistakably denoted a connivance on the part of the autherities. These were all the par- ticulars which I learnt relative to Marco Uberti— which was the name of that formidable bandit— ere I was compelled to leave the servants’ hall. I walked into the garden, and lounged about there for perhaps a quarter of an hour,—when I felt my indisposition gaining upon me so much that I entered the nearest pavilion, and stretched myself upon a bench inside. The shade of over- hanging trees rendered the place completely dark ; and the air was so still that scarcely a leaf rustled. Sleep gradually stole upon me; and as I presently found myself awakening, I became aware that voices were speaking in a low tone at the entrance of the pavilion. “But why not address yourself to my father ?” were the first words which my ear thus caught: and they were spoken in a tremulous yet silvery clear female voice. “No—not yet! not yet! dearest, beloved Olivia!” was the response of the young lady’s companion—and now I recognised the rich-toned voice of Signor Volterra: for I had heard him speak to the hostler on his arrival at the hotel in the forenoon. “The time will shortly come when the state of my affairs will enable me with a better grace to beseech your hand of Lord Ringwold. Meantime, dearest Olivia, though we are about to be separated, you will not forget me?” “ Forget you, Angelo!” murmured the patrician lady: “ no—never, never! You wrong the fidelity of my heart by even asking such a question.” “Tt is not that I mistrust you, dearest,” re- turned Angelo Voiterra: “but it is sweet for a lover to receive the reiterated assurance of re- ciprocal affection. .Think you that too often from those sweet lips of thine could flow forth the words, ‘I love thee?’ Oh, the joy—the happiness of that moment when first I elicited the soft avowal! I went forth from your presence with an unknown ecstacy flooding my entire being: I could scarcely believe. that such bliss was really mine. Fifteen days have elapsed since that one— the happiest of my life!—and often and often have I doubted whether it were all true, or whether I were deceiving myself with the most elysian of dreams. No—it zs true! and you love me, dearest Olivia—and I love you in return heaven knows how much I love you!” There was a pause, during which I heard the billing sounds of kisses; and then Volterra spoke again in that voice which seemed like one of golden harmony. “ Yes, dearest Olivia, the time I hope is not far distant when I shall be enabled to present my- self before your father—proclaim my love—and de- mand your hand.” “Think it not indelicate on my part, Angelo,” responded the lady, her tones conveying all the bashfulness she experienced, “ that I should have urged you to speak to my parents at once, and to hesitate no longer: but my motive is simply that never yet had I kept aught concealed from those fond parents of mine; and this secret,—though in one sense a sweet one,” she added, with increasing hesitation—“ nevertheless weighs at times like lead upon my heart. I feel when in my parents’ pre- JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. sence as if I could throw myself into their arms, or fling myself at their feet, and implore their pardon as if for a duty violated or a fault committed. And now that we are about to separate, dear Angelo, and that you cannot define for how long, I feel— Oh! I deeply feel that the necessity of keeping this secret will increase my unhappiness !” “Olivia, your words fill me with indescribable pleasure and pain,” answered Angelo Volterra,— “ pleasure because every syllable conveys the assur- . ance of your love—and pain because that love alone suffices not for your happiness. Listen to me, dear- est Olivia! As yet my fortune is small and insig- nificant, in comparison with what it may soon be. Your father belongs to the proud aristocracy of England; and your beauty, as well as your rank and accomplishments, warrant his lordship in seek- ing tor a suitable alliance for his daughter. He would refuse me, situated as I now am; and surely, Olivia, you would spare me the pain of such re- fusal? Besides, there is another light in which this matter is to be regarded.. Where did we first meet? By your mother’s sick couch, only two months back; and it was my fortunate lot to be enabled to render services of more or less import- ance. Now, if I were to address myself at once to your father, and request to be recognised as the suitor for his daughter’s hand, would he not deem me most unhandsomely and ungenerously presum- ing on the services which I have so rendered ? and would he not be justified in telling me that I rated those services at far too high a price? Is not all this true, Olivia P * Tt is,” she murmuringly answered: “and you will forgive me, Angelo, for sv urgently pressing the point ?” “Oh, speak not of forgiveness, my adored—my worshipped Olivia!” exclaimed the enthusiastic Italian. ‘“‘ And now let me thank thee for having granted this interview—the last that we shall en- joy for some little time to come! You are about to proceed to the gay and splendid city of Florence —my own native city a “You sigh, dear Angelo,” interrupted Olivia : “is it that you regret your absence from that city of which you are ever wont to speak in terms so rapturous P” “T regret that circumstances prevent me from accompanying you thither,” rejoined Volterra: “I regret that when you appear in brilliantly-lighted saloons, and every eye is ravished by your beauty, I shall not be there to behold you—I shall not be there to whisper in my own heart, ‘ That lovely being by whose presence all looks are fascinated, is pledged to accompany me to the altar!’—This is why I regret my absence from Florence: and it is a feeling, Olivia, which you can understand ?” Rest assured, Angelo,” answered the patrician lady, “ that I shall not voluntarily seek those gay and brilliant circles of which you have spoken: but if compelled to accompany my parents thither, my thoughts will be far away Need I add,” she gently and softly asked, “in which direction they will travel ?” | “Oh, no!—for every syllable you utter gives me the assurance of your love. Never, never until I first beheld you, Olivia, was this heart of mine moved towards woman! You are the first whose beauty even taught me to love; and you will be the*last! That we shall soon meet again, and that Sa st NN COMIC LOO Ss (c@) AA