The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 120: what you’re looking at

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

THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. 1U0J }epart, Alfred Delorme—and to-morrow you shall know my decision! Depart, I say!” added M. Volney vehemently: “not another word to me nor to my daughter !—and to-morrow, I repeat, you may come to me——Yes, you may call at the Chateau——-and then my decision shall be made known |” “Oh! let me entreat you,” said the Viscount in & voice of the most earnest appeal, “to stifle those feelings of hatred which you have hitherto enter- tained towards me———” “Young man, you comprehend me not!” inter- rupted Olarine’s father petulantly: “you cannot penetrate into the depths of my heart! Ob, if you could But enough! You will perhaps know more to-morrow. Depart——lI conjure, I command you!” “It is not for me,” responded the Viscount, “who am an honourable suitor for your daughter’s hand——aye, and a suppliant for your ounsent aod good feeling———it is not for me, I say, to oppose your will or rebel against your man- te.”” With these words Alfred Delorme bowed with courteous respect to M. Volney: he saluted Zoe in a similar manner: he bent a look of loving tenderness on Clarine; and he quitted the room. For some minutes after his departure M. Volney | regard paced to and fro with agitated steps,—apparently unconscious of the presence of his daughter and Zoe. These two remained together,—Clarine with her arm thrown round her friend’s waist—clinging to her with the confidence of one who sought sup- port, solace, and encouragement in the painful state of uncertainty in which the last scene of this strangely wild drama had left her. At length M. Volney accosted the two ladies; and he said to Clarine, “Sit down, and tell me frankly and faithfully everything that has taken place between yourself and the Viscount——al] thet you have heard from Ais lips—all that you have heard from the lips of old Marguerite like- wise. Stay, Lady Octavian !—I beseech you not to leave us! We look upon you as something more than a friend: my daughter regards you as & sister——and if it be not forcing our affairs: upon your attention ” “Hest assured, M. Volney,” replied Lady Octa- vian Meredith, “that if I were about to quit the room, 16 was only through motives of delicacy. But if, on the other hand, I can be of the slightest service——"” “You can! you can!” interjected M. Volney, with hasty emphasis. “Perhaps it may be as well to mention,” said Zoe, “that I am already partially the confidante of my friend Clarine. This very morning was she telling me the history of her acquaintance and her love for him whom she then mentioned as Claude Masson, and whom I have this evening for the first time known to be the Viscount De- lorme.” “ And you would have known everything, dearest Zoe,” said Clarine gently, “had we not been inter- rupted. But my cear father,” she continued, turn- ing towards her narent, “with all candeur and frankness wil! I now reveal everything that has taken place. Yet you will chide me——” “No, I will not chide you, Clarine,” said M. Volney: “for there was only too much truth in your words when you declared that I had left you so continuously to your own pursuits.” “ Think not for an instant that I intended it as a reproach !” exclaimed Clarine earnestly. “ No, no—I took it not as such,” answered M. Volney with kindness : “it was the ingenuous plea on your own -behalf which would naturally flow from your lips under sach circumstances.” Having thus spoken, M. Volney sate down with the air of one who intended to listen patiently to a nafrative which he had asked for. Clarine and Zoe likewise seated themselves ; and then the former commenced her explanations. She recited every. thing she had already stated to Lady Octavian in respect to the incidents which had firet thrown her in the way of him who had passed himself off as Claude Masson; and she then continued the thread of her history in the following manner :— “You, my dear Zoe, arrived at the Chateau some few weeks back ; and we speedily became in- timate together. You were the companion of my walks: there was no opportunity for moe any longer to meet him whom I loved. During this interrup- tion of my intercourse with him, the idea would often steal into my mind that it was perhaps all for the best—and that heaven iteelf had sent you hither to check me in a career of imprudence with to myself and of deceit towards my father. Nevertheless, even while making these reflections, I felt that I loved Claude Masson—as I then be- lieved his name to be—with an affection that could never change ; and I consoled myself with the hope that as he loved me with an equal sin- cerity, he would fulfil his promise of revealing himeelf to you, my father, the moment the influ- ential friends of whom he had spoken should have rescued him from the perils which he represented as environing himself. One day—when you, dear Zoe, were somewhat indisposed—I repaired to the village to make certain purchases ; and on my way homeward I encountered him who, was indeed uppermost in my thoughts at the time. Three weeks had passed since last we met : and though I explained to him the cause——indeed, he was already aware of it, for he had eeen you and me, Zoe, walking together in the neighbourhood yet did he somewhat reproach me for what he termed my unwillingness to make an effort to steal forth and meet him at least once during that interval. I was profoundly afflicted by the lan- guage which he thus held towards me; and ho implored my forgiveness for having wounded my feelings. He said that in a short time he should be in « position to throw off the mask of concenl- ment and openly come forward to claim my hand. He besought that J would now and then grant him an interview. It was in vain that I urged the impossibility of walking forth by myself, now that I had a companion. He was deeply dis- tressed : he spoke despondingly : he declared that such wae his affection for me, that he could not endure another long interval of separation. Ina word, dear father———but you have promised not to chide me?—for oh! the Viscount is the most loving, the most high-minded, and the most honourable of men———” : I will not chide you, Clarine,” seid M. Volney with exceeding gentleness of manner. “ Proceed. Shall I help you to that avowal which you hesitate to make f” -” COM (G NOOK (CO Peed