The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 393: what you’re looking at

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a ng ne pe a a nO 378 THE MYSTERIES. ward, volatile, and perverse-tempered niece had thus | settled herself in life and at all events formed an | honourable connexion : and he could not help think- ing that Arthur Eaton had experienced a somewhat | fortunate escape in being refused by a young lady of so strange, wild, and self-willed a disposition. As for the Countess of Desborough—she was too much absorbed in her passion for Ramsey to devote many minutes’ thought to Fernanda: and moreover on the Saturday evening when the tidings of the young lady’s marriage reached Berkeley Square, Eleanor was completely wrapt up in the enjoyment of her lover’s society after an absence of three days on his part. For our readers will remember that on the pre- vious Thursday night Ramsey had appeared to Mr. and Mrs. Page in the library at Stamford Manor; and that visit to the neighbourhood of Aylesbury had certain objects wiich will transpire hereafter. Oxnthe Saturday evening he came back to Berkeley Sqnare—his departure and his return both taking place at dusk, when his countenance might be ef- fectually concealed by the shade of his hat and the collar of his cloak. But need we say that in the meantime his absence had appeared an age to the enamoured Eleanor, and the three days had seemed as many centuries ? All the next day she reniained at home on purpose to enjoy his society—the excuses which he made for not going out, proving quite satis- factory to herself, and eliciting no remark on the side of her husband. Indeed, the Har! of Desborough had sought the solitude of his library more than ever ' since the arrival of Ramsey at the thansion : and had Eleanor found leisure to observe her liusband’s | manner or notice his personal appearance with degree of attention, she would have perceived that beneath an air of extreme kindness toiwards herself and of afiability towards her lover, there was a pro-= found melancholy devouring the nobleman’s yery vitals,—and that his cheeks were growine pale, his form emaciated, and his brow furrowed, With 4 | yapidity that was but too awfully perceptible ta all about him save his own adulterous wife and her un- principled paramour. Having recorded these few necessary observations, we now resume the thread of our narrative. It was on the Monday following the Saturday on which Ramsey had returned to his comfortable quarters in Berkeley Square; and at about three o'clock in the afternoon we find him seated in the drawing-room with the lovely and loving Countess of Desborough. Her ladyship had instructed the domestics that she was not “ at home” to any visitors; and she was accordingly giving herself up to all the blandish- ments of a défe-a- tete with him whom she called her ' “dear Gustavus.” Her splendid eyes looked burn- ing fondness and enthusiastic passion upon him; while his reflected the more sensual feeling and fixed their gaze on her countenance with a fervotir which sbe mistook for unalloyed affection as pro- found and intense as her own. Never had she seemed more beautiful, nor he | more handsome; and, so far as personal appearance went, there was a remarkable fitness in this couple for each other. ‘Their dark hair—olive complexions | —large black eyes—brilliant teeth—and classical outline of feature, made them look like brother and while the ardour of their temperament and | | | : sister: | the strength of the fires that burned within their breasts, rendered them suitable partners in the dal- liance of love, “Tell me, my Gustavus—do you indeed enter- tain for me all the fondness which breathes in your words and gives a glory to your looks?” asked Elea- nor, in a tone that was low and tremulous with the soft feelings that prompted the question. “Can you doubt my love?—do you suspect the truth of my vows?” said Ramsey, modulating his own voice to the tender sensuousness of the scene: ve taking the hand of the Countess, he fastened his lips upon the warm, plump flesh which thrilled with the ecstatic fervour that animated her entire being. “Should not I rather question you, my be- loved Eleanor,” he continued, “respecting the per- manenee of that attachment which you now feel to- wards the friendless stranger ?” ‘“ Ah! low can you speak in this mournful, hope- less manner of yourself, Gustavus ?” exclaimed the Countess, darting upon him a look of mingled de- votedness and reproach. “ Wherefore use the word Friendless? Am not I your friend?—would I not lay down my life to serve you? Oh! my beloved Gustavus, you had forgotten that there was such a being as myself i in the world when you made that observation.” “Pardon me, dearest—dearest Eleanor,” said the resuscitated criminal, folding that charming and ele- garit woman in his embrace “and imprinting a thou- sand kisses upon her glowing, burning, blushing cliecks. “IE had not forgotten you,” he continued in the murmuring tone which indicates the strength of Senstial passion: “no—never, never can I forget you, my beloved—never can I cease to remember that you are the only being whom [I ever truly adored and by whom I was ever loved so tenderly in return, All my hopes of hapriness are centred in thee. Eleanor: were I doomed to separate from thee, my well-beloved, I should end my days in the blood of a distracted suicide.” “Oh! speak not in such dreadful terms as these!” Whispered the Countess, her own voice being sub- dued and hushed by the power of her passion: and, half-reclining in his arms, she gazed long and ar- dently upon the handsome countenance of her lover, while her bosom heaved voluptuously against the hand which unreprovedly pressed it. “ Wherefore should you entertain an idea of even the possibility of our separation? Are you not happy beneath this roof?—do you pant for change, Gustavus 2?” “ No—no: ten thousand times no, my angel!” he responded, accompanying his words with caresses that made the blood circulate like lightning in the veins of the impassioned woman. “ But ask your- self, dearest Eleanor, whether this state of bliss can endure for ever? Does it not appear like a dream which must inevitably havea waking? Your hus- band ——” “Oh! let us not talk of him!” exclaimed the Countess, with a movement of impatience. “ Ever since I possessed your love, Gustavus, I have expe- rienced feelings amounting almost to a loathing and a bitter aversion in respect to him.” “T can well understand those emotions, sweet Eleanor,” answered the wily criminal: * but you must pardon me if [ persist in speaking of the Earl fora few moments. Oh! cannot you guess what I mean ?—can you not divine that I allude to the possibility of our love being discovered? Each day—each hour we become less guarded: already ——— SS — ee (eo) 00) (C S (C(O)