Volume Ii Part 9 (1/2)
Such complete pre-occupation had his agitation and trouble over my mind, that it was long ere I could attempt to recall how I had evoked this burst of pa.s.sion, and by what words I had stirred him so to address me.
Suddenly the truth flashed boldly out; I perceived the whole nature of the error. He had, in fact, interrupted iny explanation at a point which made it seem that I was seeking his grandaughter in marriage. Not waiting to hear me out, he deemed the allusions to my name, my family arms, and my fortune, were intended to convey a proposal to make her my wife. Alas! I needed no longer to wonder at his repugnance, nor speculate further on the energy of his refusal. How entertain such a thought for his poor child! It were, indeed, to weave Cyprus with the garland of the Bride!
Impatient any longer to lie under the misconception--at heart, perhaps, vexed to think how wrongfully he must have judged me when deeming me capable of the thought--I hastened back to the Villa, determined at once to rectify the error and make him hear me out, whatever pains the interview should cost either.
On gaining the house I found that Sir Gordon had just driven from the door. Miss Howard, who for two days had been indisposed, was still in her room. Resolving, then, to make my explanation in writing, I went to my room; on the table lay a letter addressed to me, the writing of which was scarcely dry. It ran thus:--
”My dearest Friend,
”If I, in part, foresaw the possibility of what your words to-day a.s.sured me, and yet did not guard against the hazard, the sad circ.u.mstances of my lot in life are all I can plead in my favour. I have never ceased to reproach myself that I had not been candid and open with you at first, when our intimacy was fresh. Afterwards, as it became friends.h.i.+p, the avowal was impossible. I must not trust myself with more. I have gone from home for a day or two, that when we meet again the immediate memory of our last interview should have been softened. Be to me--to her, also--as though the words were never spoken; nor withdraw any portion of your affection from those you have rescued from the greatest of all calamities.
”Yours ever,
”Gordon Howard.”
The mystery grew darker and more impenetrable; hara.s.sing, maddening suspicions, mixed themselves up in my brain, with thoughts too terrible for endurance. I saw that, in Sir Gordon's error as to my intentions, he had unwittingly disclosed the existence of a secret--a secret whose meaning seemed fraught with dreadful import; that he would never have touched upon this mysterious theme, save under the false impression my attempted proposal had induced, was clear enough; and, that thus I had unwittingly wrung from him an avowal which, under other circ.u.mstances, he had never been induced to make.
I set about to think over every word I had used in our last interview--each expression I had employed, torturing the simplest phrases by interpretations the most remote and unlikely, that thereby some clue should present itself to this mystery: but, charge my memory how I could, reflect and ponder as I might, the words of his letter had a character of more deep and serious meaning than a mere refusal of my proposition, taken in what sense it might, could be supposed to call for. At moments, thoughts would flash across my brain so terrible in their import, that had they dwelt longer I must have gone mad. They were like sudden paroxysms of some agonising disease, coming and recurring at intervals. Just as one of these had left me, weak, worn out, and exhausted, a carriage, drawn by four post-horses, drew up to the door of the Villa, and the instant after my servant knocked at my door, saying, ”La Comtesse de Favancourt is arrived, sir, and wishes to see you.”
Who was there whose presence I would not rather have faced?--that gay and heartless woman of fas.h.i.+on, whose eyes, long practised to read a history in each face, would soon detect in my agitated looks that ”something had occurred,” nor cease till she had discovered it. In Sir Gordon's absence, and as Lucy was still indisposed, I had no alternative but to receive her.
Scarcely had I entered the drawing-room than my worst fears were realised. She was seated in an arm-chair, and lay back as if fatigued by her journey; but on seeing me, without waiting to return my greeting of welcome, she asked, abruptly,--
”Where's Sir Gordon?--where's Miss Howard? Haven't they been expecting me?”
I answered, that Sir Gordon had gone over to the Brianza for a day; that Miss Howard had been confined to her room, but, I was certain, had only to learn her arrival to dress and come down to her.
”Is this said _de bonne foi?_” said she, with a smile where the expression was far more of severity than sweetness. ”Are you treating me candidly, Mr. Templeton? or is this merely another exercise of your old functions as Diplomatist?”
I started, partly from actual amazement, partly from a feeling of indignant shame, at the accusation; but, recovering at once, a.s.sured her calmly and respectfully that all I had said was the simple fact, without the slightest shade of equivocation.
”So much the better,” said she gaily; ”for I own to you I was beginning to suspect our worthy friends of other motives. You know what a tiresome world of puritanism and mock propriety we live in, and I was actually disposed to fear that these dear souls had got up both the absence and the illness not to receive me.”
”Not to receive you! Impossible!” said I, with unfeigned astonishment.
”The Howards, whom I have always reckoned as your oldest and most intimate friends----”
”Oh, yes! very old friends, certainly: but remember that these are exactly the kind of people who take upon them to be severer than all the rest of the world, and are ten times as rigid and unforgiving as one's enemies. Now, as I could not possibly know how this affair might have been told to them----”
”What affair? I'm really quite in the dark to what you allude.”
”I mean my separation from Favancourt.”
”Are you separated from your husband, Lady Blanche?” asked I, in a state of agitation in strong contrast to her calm and quiet manner.
”What a question, when all the papers have been discussing it these three weeks! And from an old admirer, too! Shame on you, Mr. Templeton!”
I know not how it was, but the levity of this speech, given as it was, made my cheek flush till it actually seemed to burn.
”Nay, nay, I didn't mean you to blush so deeply,” said she, ”And what a dear, sweet, innocent kind of life you must have been leading here, on this romantic lake, to be capable of such soft emotions! Oh, dear!”
sighed she, weariedly. ”You men have an immense advantage in your affairs of the heart; you can always begin as freshly with each new affection, and be as youthful in sentiment with each new love, as we are with our only pa.s.sion. Now I see it all; you have been getting up a '_tendre_' here for somebody or other:--not Taglioni, I hope, for I see that is her Villa yonder,--There, don't look indignant. This same Lake of Como has long been known to be the paradise of _danseuses_ and opera-singers; and I thought it possible you might have dramatised a little love-story to favour the illusion. Well, well,” said she, sighing, ”so that you have not fallen in love with poor Lucy Howard----”