The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 110: what you’re looking at

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THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. you were to disobey me: and if I be dead, say to ourself that even from the tomb itself the spirit- tice of him who has cherished yott prochaims the existence of an eternal guif between yourself and that same Viscount Delorme !” Having thus spoken, M. Volney remained for more than a minute with his looks averted and his hand still shading his countenance. This gave Clarine leisure to compose her own agonized feel- ings somewhat; and it was once more with a ternatural fortitude, astonishing even herself, that sho became armed. . “ And now good night, Clarine—good night, my dear girl!” said M. Volney, at length rising from his seat, and once more imprinting a kiss upon the young lady’s forehead. “Good night, dearest father,” she murmured : and the next moment the door closed behind her. She sped up to her own chambcer—site throw herself upon her knecs—she buried her couhte- mance in the bedding: she wept and sobbed con- vulsively. She called upon God to strengthen her: she gave vent to low but passionately uttered words of agony. It was sad—~it Was indeed, to think that ono of her age, in the bloom of inci- pient womanhood, when the world ought to be stretching like « lovely garden fall of flowers be- fore her vision,—Oh! i¢ whs sad that she should experience such utter desolation of the heart. And | | belonging to the oratorio, or smiall chapel, inter- yet it was so. Alas, poor Clarine ! But we must now retarn to Lady Octavian Meredith. Little s Detween Clarine and her father, Zoe had retired to her own chamber. She felt not the slightest in- clination to retire to rest; and she dismissed her maid for the night without beginning to disapparel herself. She sate down to reflect on all she had heard that day: she was mournful on her friend Clarine’s account; and the thought of the sorrows of another sharpened instead of mitigated the re- collection of her own. The wind was moaning dismally without; and these sounds were by no means calculated to cheer Lady Octavian’s spirits. She remembered the circumstances which for two consecutive nights had alarmed her when crossing the passage; and she could not possibly repress the cold shudder of a superstitious awe. Nearly half-an-hoar had elapsed since Zoe gought her chamber—and she was still seated at her toilet-table without commencing the slightest preparation for retiring to rest. Sho was falling fnto a deeper and deeper reverie,—in which all that concerned herself, all that concerned Clarine, as well as the legend attached to the Chateau, were blended—yet in no confused and imcompre- hensible jumble. Presently the idea gradually began to steal into Lady Octavian’s mind that Btrange sounds were being wafted to her ear,— sounds that were distinct from the dull dismal moening of the wind—sounds which no current of air in its gush through tho passage could possibly create. A feeling of terror crept over Lady Octa- vian: she listened with suspended breath. The sounds were like the continuous moaning of a human voice,—now swelling into a louder strain of asgony—then sinking into the lowest and most plaintive wail. What could it be? She thought of Clarine. But no—impossible! The two cham- bers were separated by the old chapel, or oratory ; end no notes of sorrow sounding in Clarine’s room, ing what was passing | 99 could be heard by Zoe in her own. Then, what was if? She was now so excited by alarm that her feelings grew almost desperate: she could not endure this horrible state of suspense. Starting up from her seat, Zoe seized the taper and was about to open the door in the hasty violence of her excited feelings, when she suddenly recollected that it would not be well to alarm others who were in the house. She was naturally couragéous, and therefore considerate. She opened the door with the utmost gentleness—and looked forth into the passage. It was natural that her glances should be tremblingly and shudderingly cast m that direction where she had twice seen— or at least fancied she had seen the figure that had 60 much alarmed her: bat now she beheld nothing. She advanced, treading noiselessly, and stopping at every instant to listen. She could now distin- guish more distinctly than at first those sounds which had brought het forth from her chamber. Moaning and plaintive were they—now continuous and prolonged—then dying away—then gradually rising again, or else suddenly springing up from silence. The idea that it was a human voice grew fainter and fainter in the mind of Lady Octavian Meredith: but still she was utterly at a loss to comprehend what the source or cause of these sounds might be. She had halted just in front of the folding-doors vening betwixt her own chamber and Clarine’s; and she was convinced that the strange unaccount- able sounds came from within that chapel. She mechanically placed her hand upon the old- fashioned rusted latch of those doors: it yielded to her touch—and one of the leaves of the tall portals opened slightly. The gust of wind which issued forth, nearly extinguished Zoe’s taper: but fortunately she just shaded the light in time to save it. She pushed the door farther open: the sounds had now altogether ceased: bat expecting that they would revive again, she was impelled by cariosity to enter the chapel. Sho found herself first of afl in a little vestibule, in front of which hung a heavy curtain, whose material had once been a rich velvet: bat the entiro drapery was now so faded, so torn, and so tattered, that it was a mere worthless rag. It seemed as if the hand of a child might tear it down, so flimsy was it. It waved slowly to and fro with the wind which swept through the chapel; and now once more did those strange sounds reach the ear of Lady Octa- vian Meredith. It was evident that the wind wafted them: bat still she was at a loss to con- delve their source. It was with a feeling bordering upon supef- stitious awe, that Zoe stretched forth her hand to put aside the curtain in order to enter tho oratory. A scream was well nigh bursting from her lips when she beheld what ap to be a couple of tall dark standing jast within: but & second glance showed her that they were two suits of armour standing upright—one sustaining a lance in & perpendicular position—and both having a life-like appearance. These panoplies were in every respect perfect. The vizors of the helmets were closed,—so that i¢ was easy to fancy the human wearers were within those rusted steel suits. The helmets, too, were surmounted with plumes; and there was something ominous an¢ _ A274 a COUMIUC NOG SS (CO