The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 263: what you’re looking at

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AT 248 THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. against you mother? An! I seethat Juliana has impressed you with the belief that those accusa- tions are true. But it would grieve me deeply, deeply—it would afflict me more profoundly than I can ever express—to think that 1 should be re- garded in such a light by you, Constance,—you, my youngest child—my best beloved-and the only one who now testifies due respect to your mother !” “Tf you tell me, my dear mamma, that every- thing Mr. Gunthorpe said is false, it will be suffi- cient. I shall then regard his accusations,” added Constance, “ as odious calumnies.” “ And odious calumnies they are !” rejoined Lady Saxondale, with an emphasis the strength of which was derived from her matchless effron- tery. ‘‘ Now do you believe me?” ** T do,” answered Constance: and yet scarcely were the words spoken, when a secret voice ap- peared to whisper in her soul that her mother was deceiving her. She accordingly looked with involuntary ear- nestness upon Lady Saxondale’s countenance, and she thought she perceived a look that showed conscious guilt on that mother’s part,—a look which was seen asit were behind the mask of cool and prideful effrontery which she wore. This was another lesson that Constance then took in the ways of the world — a lesson teaching her how to look more profoundly than she had ever yet been accustomed to do beneath the surface of the countenance and thus gaze down as it were into the depths of the human heart. It was a lesson showing her all the @ark nooks and corners in which conscious guilt hidesitself behind the mask of dissimulation,—thus affording her fresh hints and suggestions for the better veiling of her own thoughts and deeds in future. In short, it was a farther reading which Constance now obtained into the hypocrisies whereof the human heart is capable : it was a deeper insight which she ac- quired into the mysteries of duplicity and deceit. And this is the worst species of enlightenment which a young woman of her age and passions, circumstances and position, could possibly obtain : for what she thus learnt she was likely to practise —and by the discovery of the weak pomts in others, she would become the better able to throw the gloss of hypocrisy over her own. Lady Saxondale was too astute and too deeply versed in those mysteries of the heart, not to perceive what was passing in herdaughter’s mind. She therefore saw that her declaration of inno- cence with regard to Gunthorpe’s accusations was not believed, notwithstanding the assurance that Constance had given her that she did believe it. For a moment she knew not what to say or do: for the whole tenour of this conversation was fo lead toa certain aim which she had in view, and unless she succeeded in carrying her daughter’s mind along with her as it were, she felt that she, must fail in attaining her object. ** Constance,” she suddenly observed, “ your lips declare that you believe me while your heart does not echo the averment.” “Why should you think so, dear mother ?” asked Constance; and with the assumed inno- cence of her looks she proved how well she had profited by the new lesson of dissimulation which she had just received. “ Because your countenance showed me that your thouglits belied your words. Constance,” added Lady Saxondale, with deep solemnity of tone and manner, “if I swear to you by every- thing sacred that 1am innocent with regard to William Deveril, will ycu believe me? Butstop!” ejaculated herladyship: and with all the seeming hauteur of conscious truth in what she was about to say, she added, “ I have been a widow, Con- stance, for nineteen years—and never once, as God is my judge, have 1 sacrificed my honour to living man!” Constance at once perceived the subtlety of this asseveration. That her mother had remained chaste and pure in body, was possible: but that in soul she had become tainted—in short, that if she had remained virtuous in respect to William Deveril it was not her own fault—the young lady full well comprehended. “ Why, dear mamma -— oh, why,” she exclaimed, “shonld you think it necessary to address me in this strain? I believe you—I believe you!” she cried vehemently, in the hope of getting rid of the subject: and the excitement with which she spoke gave to her assurance the semblance of truth—so that Lady Saxondale, deceived for once, really thought her words had produced the desired effect and that slie was believed at last. “T speak to you thus,” she said, “ because I wish to impress upon yourself a sense of the duties which you have to perform: I have likewise an oath to exact from you; and J feel that I could not do all this if I appeared before you in the light of a mother showing a bad example by her own depravity.” ‘An oath that you have to exact from me?” echoed Constance, amazed and frightened by the announcement. * Yes—an oath—and nothing short of the so- lemnity of an oath,” at once responded Lady Saxondale. “The time has gone by for mere child’s play. Had I been more severe than I have, Edmund would not be what he is—Juliana would not be what she is: and now it is natural that I should seek to save at least one of my children from ruin and dishonour. Constance, I have every reason to suppose that you still main- tain a correspondence with the Marquis of Ville- belle.” “No,” answered the young lady: and with marvellous composure she looked her mother full in the face. “ Tf it be so, I am overjoyed,” observed Lady Saxondale, though not exactly satisfied that she heard the truth: and yet shecould scarcely fancy that her daughter had so soon become such au adept in dissimulation. ‘“ Under these circum- stances, therefore, you will have all the less diffi- culty in taking the solemn oath which Lnow re- quire from your lips.” “ And that oath, mother ?” asked Constance with an outward calm but with an inward shudder; for she expected what the required oath would be, and she dreaded as much to refuse it altogether as to take it falsely. “The oath I demand from your lips, is, that you will never again give encouragement to thie Marquis of Villebelle—never receive letters from him—never send letters to him—never meet him clandestinely—never think of him otherwise than as a stranger.” Go JOOKS (€©)