The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 96: what you’re looking at

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

eT Se a aE Dene cer nemeatey Gent eciatete egress, A @- ere Ss7apmeap SHS MYSTERIES OF THE COUET. 85 Chateau and the domain then belonging to it, con- ceded to him. He came to take accom: panied by an uncle with whom he had always lived—for he had been left an orphan at an early age. The uncle, your ladyship understands, was therefore young M. Lenoir’s heir in case of his dying childless. About a year passed; and one day the inmates of the Chateau were thrown into a state of alarm by the report that the young gentleman had been found dead in his bed. This was found to be only too true; he lay stretched upon the couch with his clothes on ; and it was first supposed that he had died ina fit. But for some reason or another which the gardener does not re- collect, suspicion of foul play attached iteelf to the uncle. The corpse of the deceased Lenoir was opened; and it was ascertained that he had been poisoned. The-uncle was arrested—tried—and condemned. JBefore his execution he confessed the crime; and explained that he had mixed the poison in a night-draught which his nephew was in the habit of taking for a feverish thirst which oppressed him. From that period no tenant ever could be found for the Chateau until about five years ago, when M. Volney took it. And now, my lady, for the point of the story. It is said that the spirit of young Lenoir bas been seen in different parts of the building; and that sometimes an unearthly sound, like a continuous wailing moan, has been heard. At first there was an old couple left in charge of the Chateau: but they soon resigned their post—for they were nearly frightened to death. Others succeeded them: they saw the same spectacle, and heard the same noise. They therefore left also, until at last no one could be induced to take charge of the pre- mises. Ah! I forgot to say that it is chiefly in this very passage young Lenoir has been seen: for it was in a room a little farther on, jast beyond Madomoiselle Volney’s, that he was poisoned by his uncle.” Zoe made no comment: she was certainly so far struck by the tale that she wished either she had not heard it, or else that she had not seen, or fancied she bad seen that which alarmed her on the previous evening. “ The gardener says, my lady, that all who ever eaw the spirit, agree in the description of it. The young gentleman appears as he was when in life— tall and slender—perfoctly upright—dressed as he was when discovered on the bed, with all his clothes on, but without boots or slippers; and his countenance is ghastly pale. He does not seem to walk exactly—-but to glide slowly along with noise- leas feet. Or else he has been seen just about to enter the room where he met his death; and then he turns that ghastly pale countenance of his tlowly round upon, whomsoever is passing along the passage at the time.” “TI hope that neither you nor Rachel,” said Zoe, “will give way to these childish superstitions :”— but even as she thus spoke, she shuddered involun- tarily: for there was something in tha, present legend which corresponded singularly if not fear- fally enough with the circumstance of the noise- lesaly gliding form which she had seen, or fancied that she had seen, on the preceding evening. When at the breakfast-table, Lady Octavian Meredith exerted herself to assume as much gaiety as possibly, and to appear easy in her mind: | for I felt that if [ did the happiness of all three ERC ME SYR RRE hee SO ow care oqatn =k © WEED ge Wea nee Ep“ egy an for she would not willingly have laid herself open to be questioned on a point where her answer would have to be connected with a superstitious terror. M. Volney hurried over his breakfast as usaal—and thon issued forth to take one of his long, mournful, solitary walks,—leaving the two ladies together. It was a beautiful day ; and they presently strolled forth: but Zoe’s health was too delicate to suffer her to ramble far; and when they reached the outskirt of a grove, they sate down te rest upon a verdant bank. Despite all her efforts to the contrary, Zoe could not help being at inter- vals pre-occupied and abstracted : Clarine perceived it; and mistaking the cause, endeavoured to speak soothingly in the sense which she fancied to regard her friend’s mournful pensiveness. - “Your thoughts constantly travel back to your native land, my dear Zoo,” said Clarine; “and methinks that you repent the sacrifice you are making. But do not give way to melancholy meditations: fortify yourself with all that courage which has hitherto so well sustained you; and if friendship has any soothing power, you know, dearest Zoe, that you possess mine.” “T know it, Olarine,” answered Lady Octavian. “ And now I feel inclined to unbosom myself more completely than I have ever yet done towards you. Listen—and I will give you my narrative in a con- tinuous and connected form: for hitherto you have only heard it partially and piecemeal.” “Do not speak of it,” eaid Olarine, “if it will distress you.” “On the contrary,” replied Lady Octavian, “methinks it will have a soothing effect. You are already aware, Clarine,” she continued, “that when T accompanied Lord Octavian to the altar, I deeply, deeply loved him———I deeply love him still! [ have told you bow I received into the house a young, amiable, and beautiful creature, named Christina Ashton. I believed at that time that I possessed my husband's love as sincerely and as firmly as he possessed mine. Not for a single instant did I imagine it possible that he could look with love upon another; andI am bound to de- clare my conviction that the soul of Christina is as pure and virtuous as her person is beautiful. I supposed that my husband entertained a gene- rous friendsbip towards a young lady who had ex- perienced adversity; and the little attentions he paid her, were mistaken by me for tho evidences of that kind and disinterested feeling. I was one day destined to be most rudely awakened from this dream into which I had lulled myself——yes, cruelly indeed was I startled into a conviction of the truth! Lord Octavian was driving Christina and myself in an open chaise, when the horses ran away—and the vehicle was upset. I was not stunned—I was not even stupefied: I was merely bruised and hurt to some trifling extent: but from Octavian’s lips rang forth the most passionate ox. clamations of alarm and despair not in respect to myself, but on behalf of Christina! I was amitten with a fearful consternation: all the sources of life appeared to be suddenly paralyzed and frozen in me ;—and yet my mind instan- taneously recovered a horrible degree of clearness. Quick as lightning did the resolve take possession of me that I would not betray my knowledge of those words which had rung from Octavian’s lips: wrrag <S co CONIC OOO