The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 159: what you’re looking at

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

i LLL LLL ALLEL LLL OL EE GT ET 144 —_—- The transition of the lady’s manner from the most amiable softness and winning gentleness to violence and bitterness was so rapid, and accompanied by such a change in the entire expression of her coun- tenance, that Caroline for a moment shrank back in dismay and averted her looks: but the next instant a species of horrible fascination which she could not resist made her glance towards the invalid again— and then her eyes were rivetted, spell-bound, upon the features which were so touching in the revose of the soul, and so terrible in the bosom’s storm and tempest. “ Caroline—my friend,’ continued the lady, in a voice of such keen bitterness and withering acrimony that it seemed as if a demoness spoke within her ; “my heart is at times the prey to fiends who infuse into my veins a horrible madness! Oh! for the rage—the fury—the havoc of conflict, look not into history’s pages in search of sanguinary fights—seek not descriptions of bloody battles and the murderous storming of cities and sack of towns: but down, deep into the human heart must your eyes plunge —and there, in the profundities of that mortal pan- demonium, will you behold a more tremendous spec- tacle of strife—and war—and horror—and devasta- tion! Such at least is my heart at times, when I ponder on all my wrongs: such is it at this moment!” And although the lady sank back, through sheer exhaustion, on her pillow—yet the terrible workings of her countenance—the fire flashing from her eyes —the quivering of her lips—the convulsive heavings of her bosom—and the spasmodic tremor that per- ceptibly agitated her very limbs beneath the bed- clothes, bore appalling evidence to the truth of the words which had last fallen from her tongue. Yes —such indeed, as she had described it, was the state of her heart at that moment;—and, in spite of all the vindictive fire which Caroline’s Spanish blood circulated through her veins, yet was she horrified and amazed at the spectacle which that patrician now presented to her view. But the paroxysm of fiend-like fury and demoniac wildness which had thus convulsed the lady, gra- dually subsided—until she at length regained her former calmness of manner and sweet placidity of countenance. “T have alarmed and horrified you, Caroline,” she observed, in the most melting cadence of her musical voice: “ but you will forgive me—for I ama terrible creature when my passions are aroused. I know no middle state of temperament. Tranquil as the lake when not a breeze rufles its bosom—or furious as the roaring, raging ocean, when lashed into black and mountainous billows: that is my character! I can love with a devotion so complete that the rack or the scaffold would only raise smiles to my lips, were the penalty to be endured in order to save from injury a single hair of the adored one’s head: but I can, on the other hand, hate with so refined an intensity that I would sell my soul to Satan in order to ensure the gratification of my vengeance.” “You teach me a lesson, lady, which I ought to have learnt of my own accord,” said Caroline, catch- ing, as if by mesmeric influence, the spirit which animated the extraordinary young creature whose lips could tutor themselves to give utterance to such strong epithets and such terse and vigorous language. “J also have dreamt of vengeance, lady—I also have terrible wrongs to goad me on to the fury of a re- morseless fiend. But I never thought of a vengeance THE MYSTERIES. so deadly—so unrelenting—so complete, as_ that which you appear to cherish. Oh! I rejoice that I have thus been thrown in your way: for, at a humble distance, my nature resembles your own. Too meek —too humble—too enduring—and too fond, on the one hand, all that I need on the other is a glorious example to set the energies of my soul—my Spanish soul—into an appalling conflagration.” “Let your meekness turn to pride, as the rivulet that flows on in smiles hardens into stern and im- peuetrable ice,” exclaimed the patrician, the brilliant fire again lighting up in her eyes, and the hectic flush of excitement mantling on her damask eheeks. “It were folly—madness—grovelling absurdity, to allow the tender reminiscences of the past to paralyse you for the present, or disarm you for the future. The more softly and sweetly gushed the current of your young heart’s bright affections —the darker, and blacker, and stormier should roll the eddies of that ruined heart’s direst hate and insatiable vengeance. Listen, Caroline,” con- tinued the lady, her tone suddenly assuming the seriousness of profound pathos: “I have loved as never woman loved before—I worshipped the very ground upon which he trod. 'To breathe the same air with him was a luxury ineffable—to behold his eyes beaming upon me with the rapture of passion, was a bliss indescribable. I gave him the rich gift of a heart that had never loved before—a heart fraught with the most fervent affections, and not palled by the pleasures and dissipation of this world. And how has he rewarded me 2?” “ Such was my case—and the reward which I have reaped is the same that you have experienced,” said Caroline. “ Oh! show me the way to be avenged, dear lady—and I will bless the hour that brought us thus together.” “ My vengeance is already progressing—and it is terrible!” murmured the patrician, in a low but hoarse whisper, while a sombre shade spread itself over her features, “He suspects not that my revenge is thus slowly, mysteriously, but surely overtaking him: but, when I come to know you better, Caroline, my secret shall be revealed to you —and the same means which [ am now employing, may become equally effective in your hands. First, however, I must assure myself that your disposi- tion resembles mine—and that this enthusiasm which you have now shown is the natural result of an energetic soul, and not an evanescent feeling sympathetically aroused by the words that have fallen from my lips.”’ “ Believe me, dear lady, I shall study to deserve your confidence,” answered Caroline. * But, hark!” she exclaimed abruptly, as she placed her finger upon her lip ;—‘‘footsteps ascend the stairs—it is Mrs. Lindley who is approaching.” The patrician sank back upon her pillow and in- stantly composed her countenance. Miss Walters reseated herself ;—and thus, when the midwife en- tered the room, nothing betrayed to her searching glance the terrible nature of the discourse which the two vindictive young women had held togetner. “Caroline,” said Mrs, Lindley, “you may now rejoin your companions. To-morrow you can again visit your new acquaintance, provided that your society be agreeable.” ‘Oh! yes,” exclaimed the invalid: “she is an amiable girl—and I already love her. ‘The more of her company that she can devote to me, tlie com Ghooksreom