The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 98: what you’re looking at

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

THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. 87 gave me. We were alone together in the drawing- room ; and on this occasion I apprehended not the speedy return of Lord Octavian. I had some little gift to present to Christina—a testimonial of my affectionate regard; and leaving the room, I ascended to my own chamber to procure it. On returning I heard voices in the drawing-room: they were those of my husband and Christina, I was riveted to the spot: I became a listener. It was a wild impassioned scene that was taking place. Octavian was half mad. Ho had seen that had penetrated his secret-—-he oomprehended the reasons which were urging my departure from England: he spoke vehemently and frantically of roy self-martyrdom. On the other hand the con- Guct of Christina was admirable: it was full of deepest pathos and true maiden dignity: there was in it a world of generous feeling on my ac- count, together with the unmistakeable assertion of her own virtuous principles and innate seneé of rectitude. She rebuked Octavian when he dared speak of his love for her: she told him what his duty was towards myself. She urged him to ac- company me to the Continent. But I will not dwell upon the scene: I caunot—my heart melts within me at the bare recollection. en I knew that it was drawing to a close, I sped up to my own chamber; and heaven alone can tell what preternatural fortitude was conceded to me to en- able me to assume an air of calm composure—or at least of tranquil resignation—when Christina glided into my presence. Methinks that the amiablo girl herself fancied I must have overheard what had just passed—or at least that I did indeed suspect the love which Octavian bore for her. Her deprecating looks seemed to ask my pardon that she should be, although so innocent, the cause of my unhappiness. But no word escaped the fips of either of us to give unmistakeable expression to what we knew, or thought, or felt, or apprehended. Our farewells were exchanged amidst tears and lamentations at being thus severed; and Christina disappeared from my presence. Then I came abroad.” . Here Zoo suddenly ceased ; and Clarine, taking her hand, pressed it affectionately. She perceived two tears tracing their pearly path down Zoe’s cheeks: the kind-hearted French lady gazed with tenderest sympathy upon her English friend; and the latter, suddenly wiping away those tears, started up, saying, “ Come, Clarine—Jet us return to the Chateau.” They walked on in silence for some minutes,— both engaged in their reflections: for Clarine her- self was now deeply pre-occupied. At length awakening from her own reverie, she said, “You have told me your sad tale, dear Zoe, more com- pletely than you had previously revealed it: but still you have not extended your confidence far enough to make me aware how you expect all this to end. Your health is improving—the colour is re- turning to your cheeks—you may have yet perhaps along life before you—and you cannot remain for ever afar from your native land, separated from your parent, and dwelling in the seclusion of this old Chateau.” “ Alas! my dear friend,” responded Zoe, with alook and tone most pathetically sweet and full of an angelic resignation, “this colour which you behold upon my cheeks, deceives you, but does not |: deceive myself. I feel within me the germs of dissolution—the seeds of decay. Consumption is busy at my vitals: it has already planted its fatal sign upon my cheeks.” “Good heavens, speak not thus!” exclaimed Clarine, the tears gushing from her eyes. “It is distressing to a degree to hear one so young and so beautiful as you thus talk as if death were already looking you in the face!” “And yot it is 80,” rejoined Zoe, with a soft, sweet smile. “ You perceive, Clarine, that i de not attempt to delude myself. When f was jour- neying to the south of France, I thought that I should like to find some seclusion, where, with only one friend, I might pass the remainder of my days:—and I have found it. f cling not to life. No—the approach of death will be welcomed by me. In the grave my own sorrows will cease; and the tomb will engulph the only obstacle to the alliance of Octavian with the object of his love. Yes—death will be welcome! You may wonder how—conscious as Iam that the elements of dis- solution are actively at work within me—I should seem desirous of prolonging my existence by seck- ing this genial clime of Southern France: you may marvel likewise why—anxious as I am to advance and meet death half way—I did not rather settle myself in some congenial northern atmosphere. But that would be suicidal ; and it is a crime for mortals to do aught knowingly to abridge the life which God has given. Ino more dare be guilty of such wickedness than I dare leap down a pre cipice. If my head be giddy and I know that by walking on the edge of an abyss I should fall in, and in its profundities find that death which will be so welcome—it nevertheless is my duty to avoid the brim of the fatal gulf. Now you comprehend, Clarine, wherefore, though welcoming death, [ may seem to cling to life—and wherefote, while knowing that the germs of disease are expanding fatally within me, I may appear to be seeking ealth in this salubrious Pyrenean region.” Zoe spoke with a most touching pathos, and yet without studying thus to invest her language with so deep an interest. Clarine listened with a heart full of emotions: but she made no roply. What }could she say? All of a sudden Lady Octavian | Meredith appeared to rally her spirits; and she said in even a cheerful tone, “I¢ is some time since we went into the village: let us go thither —it will be a change of scene—and besides, I have some | few purchases to make.” To the village the ladies accordingly repaired ; and on entering it, the first object that struck them wasa new shop which had just been opened for the sale of musical instruments. It was really a very handsome eatablishment for a small village: but then, as we have already hinted, there were several good houses and gentee] families in the heighbourhood. The shop furnished a fine display of pianos; and one especially attracted the notice of Clarine. A card, which labelled it, indicated its price; and likewise by a few descriptive words showed that it was a much finer instrument than the one which she possessed at the old Chateau. “If my father were rich,” said Clarine, “TI should ask him to purchase this beautiful instru- ment for me: for it has really put me quite out O conceit with my own piano.” It was merely in a careless conversational way CONIC OOO <S