Part 45 (1/2)
”To Sir Luke Rookwood.”
”I would die sooner! Marry _him_? They shall kill me ere they force me to it!”
”Could you not love him?”
”Love him! I have only seen him within this hour. I knew not of his existence. He rescued me from peril. I would thank him. I would love him, if I could, for Ranulph's sake; and yet for Ranulph's sake I hate him.”
”Speak not of him thus to me,” said Sybil, angrily. ”If _you_ love him not, _I_ love him. Oh! forgive me, lady; pardon my impatience--my heart is breaking, yet it has not ceased to beat for him. You say you will die sooner than consent to this forced union. Your faith shall not be so cruelly attested. If there must be a victim, I will be the sacrifice.
G.o.d grant I may be the only one. Be happy! as happy as I am wretched.
You shall see what the love of a gipsy can do.”
As she spoke, Sybil burst into a flood of pa.s.sionate tears. Eleanor regarded her with the deepest commiseration; but the feeling was transient; for Barbara, now advancing, exclaimed: ”Hence to your mother.
The bridegroom is waiting: to your mother, girl!” And she motioned Eleanor fiercely away. ”What means this?” continued the old gipsy. ”What have you said to that girl? Did I not caution you against speech with her? and you have dared to disobey me. You, my grandchild--the daughter of my Agatha, with whom my slightest wish was law. I abandon you! I curse you!”
”Oh, curse me not!” cried Sybil. ”Add not to my despair.”
”Then follow my advice implicitly. Cast off this weakness; all is in readiness. Luke shall descend into the vaulted chapel, the ceremony shall there take place--there also shall Eleanor _die_--and there again shall you be wedded. Take this phial, place it within the folds of your girdle. When all is over, I will tell you how to use it. Are you prepared? Shall we set out?”
”I am prepared,” replied Sybil, in accents hollow as despair; ”but let me speak with Luke before we go.”
”Be brief, then--each moment is precious. Keep a guard upon your tongue.
I will to Mrs. Mowbray. You have placed the phial in safety. A drop will free you from your troubles.”
”'Tis in that hope I guard it,” replied Sybil, as she departed in the direction of Luke. Barbara watched her join him, and then turned shortly towards Mrs. Mowbray and her daughter.
”You are ill, dear Luke,” said Sybil, who had silently approached her faithless lover; ”very ill.”
”Ill!” echoed Luke, breaking into frantic laughter. ”Ill! Ha, ha!--upon my wedding-day. No, I am well--well. Your eyes are jaundiced by jealousy.”
”Luke, dear Luke, laugh not thus. It terrifies me. I shall think you insane. There, you are calmer--you are more like yourself--more human.
You looked just now--oh G.o.d! that I should say it of you--as if you were possessed by demons.”
”And if I were possessed, what then?”
”Horrible! hint not at it. You almost make me credit the dreadful tales I have heard, that on their wedding-day the Rookwoods are subject to the power of the 'Evil One.'”
”Upon their wedding-day--and _I_ look thus?”
”You do--you do. Oh! cast this frenzy from you.”
”She is mine--she is mine! I care not though fiends possess me, if it is my wedding-day, and Eleanor is my bride. And you say I look like a Rookwood. Ha, ha!”
”That wild laughter again. Luke, I implore you, hear me one word--my last----”
”I will not bear reproaches.”
”I mean not to reproach you. I come to bless you--to forgive you--to bid you farewell. Will you not say farewell?”