The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 121: what you’re looking at

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110 THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. “No, father,” responded Clarine, almost proudly. | pedestrian tour across the Pyrenees and through “Heaven be thanked! 1 can look you in the face and declare that——” “Enough, Clarine !” interrupted M. Volney : and then he emphatically added, “ Not for a single instant did I suspect the honour or purity of my child. Proceed, Clarine. You consented to grant your admirer an occasional interview within the walls of this Chateau ?” ‘* Yes—in the chapel,” responded Clarine. “ I furnished him with the key of the door at tho bottom of the staircase at the extremity of the passage ; and on four or five occasions did I meet him for a few minutes in the chapel. Rest as- sured that I should not have for an instant granted these stolen interviews within the sanctity of your dwelling—nor at such an hour, after the house- hold had retired to rest—no, not even in eom- pliance with his earnest pleadings should I have granted these interviews-—were it not that I was deeply, deeply anxious to learn the progress of those intercessions which his friends, as I believed at the time, were making on his behalf in Paris. I now come to a very memorable moment of my existence. It was the évening before last that I again met Claude Masson—as I still believed his name to be—in the chapel. He told me that he began to fear our interviews could no longer be snatched thus, stealthily—for that he had seen you, dear Zoe, crossing the passage on the previous night as he was hastening towards tho staircase at the extremity. He then asked me if I were pre- pared for a revelation which he was resolved to make, and which could no longer be withheld ? I was frightened : I besought him to be candid with me atonce. He then said that he must tell me a narrative of the past, of which, as he had disco- vered, I was hitherto completely ignorant. With- out immediately revealing himself, he told me how a certain Viscount Delorme had proved the author of your wretchedness, my dear father———~” “Yes, yes,” interrupted M. Volney, with an anguished look: “I can understand full well all that he told you!” “‘And then he copeluded,” added Clarine, her- self deeply afflicted at being compelled to make allusions which thus planted fresh daggers in her parent's heart—‘and then he concluded by re- vealing himeelf to me as Alfred Delorme !” There was a brief pause—during which M. Vol- ney guarded a profound silence; and Clarine then resumed her narrative in the following man- ner :— “Alfred explained to me all the motives of his recent conduct. He said that some five or six years ago he called privately upon you, my dear father, at Fontainebleau, to make you acquainted with the elucidation of the mystery which had previously shrouded his own father’s fate; and at the same time he entertained the hope that as so terrible a retribution had overtaken the author of your wrongs, amidet the drifting snows of the Alpine regions, you would not refuse to give your hand in forgiveness, if not in friendship, to himeelf as the living representative of the perished Vis- count. But you did refuse !—and Alfred left you with sadness and sorrow in his heart, A few years passed away—during which he travelled in foreign countries; and after a while he visited Spain. He took it into his head to perform a the South of France. It was while thus engaged that he urrived a few months back in this neigh- bourhood. Observing the old Chateau, his curi- osity dictated certain inquiries; and he learnt to his astonishment that it was inhabited by a gentle- man named Volney, and who had an only daugh- ter. He therefore at once felt convinced that the present tenant of the Chateau must be yourself. He wandered in the vicinage of the house: he caught a glimpse of you in the distance—he be- held me likewise. Often and often,” continued the blushing Clarine, “has he breathed the as- surance in my ear that the first moment he saw me, he was smitten with a feeling which has since ripened into love. Aocident rendered him my deliverer at the precipice of the ravine, as I have already told yon; and from that instant he re- solyed to woo me as his future Eride. But he dared not then reveal himself to you: he thought that if his love were reciprocated, and if he could win my heart, you would not stand in the way of your déughter’s happinees. He saw the necessity of devising some tale to acoount for his earnestly expressed desire that I should remain silent in respect to the presence of such an individual in the neighbourhood: and therefore, when I pressed him to declare who he was, he adopted the firet name which entered his head at the moment. The story of his political perils was a venial fabrication to suit his purposes for the time, tu lull my suspi- cions, end to satisfy my mind. Such were the explanations which the Viscount Delorme gave me the night before last, when I met him in the hapel. You may conceive the feelings with which listened to all that he then told me: but before I had time to learn what his intentions were, and how he meant to proceed towards yourself, dear father,—the door of the chapel opened and Mar- guerite made her appearance! I may as well observe, in ordet to avoid the interruption of my narrative hereafter, that Marguerite (as I learnt that same night, for I knew it not before) was in the habit of occasionally visiting the chapel to say her prayers: for, es you are aware, dear father, her piety borders upon superstition.” “And Marguerite thus surprised you,” said M. Volney, “ with Alfred Delorme ?”’ “Yes: and she was more than astonished—ehe was more than startled: she was horrified !” oon- tinued Olarine. ‘She insisted that the Viscount should at once take his departure. Vainly did he entreat, plead, and remonstrate: Marguerite was resolute; and she vowed that if he departed not at once, she would anbesitatingly make known his presence to you. All the favour that he could ob- tain was a permission to return on the following evening to explain those intentions which he was about to make known to me at the instant Mar- guerite eo unexpectedly appeared. He went away; and I was left alone with Marguerite. She then began to upbraid me bitterly for what she termed the wickedness of my conduct. I besought her not to speak eo harshly: the tears were streaming down my cheeks: she relented—and she embraced me. But she bade me discard the image of Alfred Delorme from my heart: she told me it was crimi- nal to love him—for that you, my dear father, en- tertained the horrible suspicion But I will not more directly allude to it! Suffice i. to say that COMIC DOG (CO