Part 65 (1/2)
Lady Lanswell bent forward.
”Will you not forget that?” she said. ”Let the past die. I will own now that I was harsh, unjust, even cruel to you; but I repent it--I have never said as much before--I repent it, and I _apologize_ to you! Will you accept my apology?”
The effort was so great for a proud woman to make, that the countess seemed almost to struggle for breath as she said the words. Leone looked on in proud, angry scorn.
”You apologize, Lady Lanswell! You think that a few words can wash away the most cruel wrong one woman did to another? Do you know what you did?--you robbed me of my husband, of a man I loved as I shall love no other; you blighted my fair name. What was I when that marriage was set aside? You--you tortured me--you broke my heart, you slew all that was best in me, and now all these years afterward you come to me, and think to overwhelm me with faint, feeble words of apology. Why, if you gave me your heart's blood, your very soul, even, it would not atone me! I had but one life, and you have spoiled it! I had but one love, you trampled on it with wicked, relentless feet! Ah, why do I speak? Words are but sound. No, Lady Lanswell, I refuse your apology now or at any time! We are enemies, and shall remain so until we die!”
The countess shrunk from the pa.s.sion of her indignant words.
”You are right in some measure,” she said, sadly. ”I was very hard, but it was for my son's sake! Ah, believe me, all for him.”
”Your son,” retorted Leone; ”you make your son the excuse for your own vanity, pride, and ambition. What you did, Lady Lanswell, proved how little you loved your son; you parted us knowing that he loved me, knowing that his whole heart was bound up in me, knowing that he had but one wish, and it was to spend his whole life with me; you parted us knowing that he could never love another woman as he loved me, knowing that you were destroying his life, even as you have destroyed mine. Did love for your son actuate you then?”
”What I believed to be my love for my son and care for his interests alone guided me,” said Lady Lanswell.
”Love for your son!” laughed Leone. ”Have you ever read the story of the mother of the Maccabees, who held her twin sons to die rather than they live to deny the Christian faith? Have you read of the English mother who, when her fair-haired son grew pale at the sound of the first cannon, cried, 'Be brave, my son, death does not last one minute--glory is immortal.' I call such love as that the love of a mother for her son--the love that teaches a man to be true, if it cost his life; to be brave, if courage brings him death; to be loyal and n.o.ble. True motherly love shows itself in that fas.h.i.+on, Lady Lanswell.”
The proud head of Lucia, Countess of Lanswell, drooped before this girl as it had never done before any power on earth.
”What has your love done for your son, Lady Lanswell?” she asked. ”Shall I tell you? You made him a traitor, a coward, a liar--through your intrigues, he perjured himself. You made him disloyal and ign.o.ble--you made him _false_. And yet you call that love! I would rather have the love of a pagan mother than such as yours.
”What have you done for him?” she continued, the fire of her pa.s.sion rising--”what have you done for him? He is young and has a long life before him. Is he happy? Look at his face--look at his restless, weary eyes--listen to the forced bitter laugh! Is he happy, after all your false love has done for him? You have taken from him the woman he loves, and you have given him one for whom he cares so little he would leave her to-morrow! Have you done so well, Lady Lanswell for your son?”
”No, indeed I have not!” came with a great sigh from Lady Lanswell's lips. ”Perhaps, if it were to be--but no, I will not say that. You have n.o.ble thoughts and n.o.ble ideas--tell me, Leone, will you help me?”
”Help you in what?” she asked, proudly.
The countess flung aside the laces and ribbons that seemed to stifle her.
”Help me over my son!” she cried; ”be generous to me. Many people in my place would look on you as an enemy--I do not. If you have ever really loved my son you cannot be an enemy of mine. I appeal to the higher and n.o.bler part of you. Some people would be afraid that you should triumph over them--I am not. I hold you for a generous foe.”
”What appeal do you wish to make to me?” asked Leone, quite ignoring all the compliments which the countess paid her.
Lady Lanswell looked as she felt--embarra.s.sed; it was one thing to carry this interview through in fancy, but still another when face to face with the foe, and that foe a beautiful, haughty woman, with right on her side. My lady was less at ease than she had ever been in her life before, her eyes fell, her lips trembled, her gemmed fingers played nervously with her laces and ribbons.
”That I should come to you at all, Leone, proves that I think you a n.o.ble woman,” she said; ”my trouble is great--the happiness of many lives lies in your hands.”
”I do not understand how,” said Leone.
”I will tell you,” continued the countess. ”You are going to Berlin, are you not?”
She saw a quiver of pain pa.s.s over the beautiful face as she asked the question.
”Yes,” replied Leone; ”I have an engagement there.”
”And Lord Chandos, my son, has said something about going there, too?”
”Yes,” replied Leone; ”and I hope he will; he knows the city well, and I shall be glad to see a familiar face.”