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قراءة كتاب Mystery and Confidence: A Tale. Vol. 3

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‏اللغة: English
Mystery and Confidence: A Tale. Vol. 3

Mystery and Confidence: A Tale. Vol. 3

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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MYSTERY AND CONFIDENCE:

A TALE.

BY A LADY.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. III.

LONDON:
PRINTED FOR HENRY COLBURN,
PUBLIC LIBRARY, CONDUIT-STREET, HANOVER-SQUARE,
AND SOLD BY GEORGE GOLDIE, EDINBURGH,
AND JOHN CUMMING, DUBLIN.

1814.

B. Clarke, Printer, Well-Street, London.


CONTENTS

CHAP. I.
CHAP. II.
CHAP. III.
CHAP. IV.
CHAP. V.
CHAP. VI.
CHAP. VII.
CHAP. VIII.
CHAP. IX.


MYSTERY
AND
CONFIDENCE.


CHAP. I.

——Infected minds
To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.
——A great perturbation in nature,
To receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effect of watching.
Macbeth.

Laura, St. Aubyn, O'Brien, and Mordaunt, were seated on one side the fire, with the sandwich tray before them; on the other side, thrown on a sofa, Ellen saw a tall thin young man, who, deeply absorbed in thought, noticed not her entrance. One pale, sickly looking hand hung motionless by his side, the other shaded his eyes, and over his brow his black hair fell in disordered curls; his dress, though that of a gentleman, was evidently neglected, and his whole appearance was

"Drooping, woeful, wan, like one forlorn;
Or crazed by care, or cross'd by hopeless love!"

As Ellen entered, St. Aubyn rose, and with subdued emotion, said in a low tone:

"My love, we waited for you;" then somewhat louder;—"My Lord De Montfort, will you allow me to introduce you to...." he faltered, and looked as if he dreaded to pronounce the name ... "to my wife ... to ... Lady St. Aubyn?"

As he spoke, Lord De Montfort started from his reverie, shook back the curls which shaded his face, and shewed a fine, but pale and emaciated countenance. For an instant his bright black eyes flashed, and his cheeks crimsoned with a sudden emotion. He hastily took two or three steps forward, as if to greet some well-known friend; but seeing Ellen, who, half alarmed, leaned upon St. Aubyn, he gazed upon her for a moment with such an earnest yet melancholy expression as extremely affected her. She courtesied, and he bent his head with the air of a perfect gentleman, but spoke not, and then threw himself on his sofa again.

Ellen perceived that St. Aubyn's frame shook with subdued emotion, and her own trembled with an indefinable sensation.

"Come, Lady St. Aubyn," said Laura, "sit here by the fire; you look pale and cold; you should not indeed expose yourself to the night air in crossing the hall and staircase."

Ellen gladly sat down, and while they were taking their little meal, she glanced her eyes towards the youth, whose mysterious manner impressed her with feelings of no very pleasing import: she saw that under the shade of his bent brows he was attentively gazing upon her. The portentous gloom of his countenance seemed to her troubled imagination to forebode some direful event, and she grew so pale, that Laura perceiving it, put a glass of wine into her hand, and begged her to drink it. Before she would comply, St. Aubyn said:—

"Ellen, neither my entreaties, nor those of his former friend, Miss Cecil, can prevail on Lord De Montfort to take the slightest refreshment; try, my love, if you can induce him to take a glass of wine with you."

Ellen with sudden effort conquering the agitation of her spirits, said: "Indeed, my Lord, I shall be very happy if Lord De Montfort will do me that honour. May I, my Lord," speaking to him, "make it my request that you will do so?"

The soft persuasive tones of her voice seemed to touch him; he rose, and with a voice deep, melancholy, and impressive, said:

"At your request, Madam!"

He advanced, and took from Laura a glass of wine she offered to him; he bowed to Ellen, and lifted the glass to his lips, but instantly exclaimed, while his whole person shook with agitation:

"I cannot drink it! In this house! Oh, God!"

He let fall the glass, and covering his face with his hands, rushed out of the room.

O'Brien instantly followed him, while the little party which remained sat in silent dismay and astonishment. Yet St. Aubyn's emotion partook more of vexation than surprize: he paced the room with hasty strides for a few minutes, and then approaching Ellen, said, clasping her hand in his, which trembled with agitation—"This scene has been too much for you, my love: could I have imagined De Montfort's demeanor would have been so wild, I would not have brought him hither; yet let us make allowances for him—he doated on his sister." St. Aubyn's voice seemed elevated with deep contending passions: for a moment he paused, then added, "You had better go to your rest, my love, and you, Laura: I do not suppose this young man will return to-night."

He rung, and inquired of the servant in waiting where the two gentlemen then were. "They have been in the study, my Lord," said the man; "but are now gone to their chambers, which Mrs. Bayfield sent to say were ready for them."

The ladies rose to retire, just as Mr. O'Brien returned: he brought apologies from his pupil to Lady St. Aubyn, saying that Lord de Montfort regretted extremely his distress should have shewed itself so visibly, and doubtless alarmed her. "Forgive him, Madam," said O'Brien: "this is the first time he has been in this house, or even in England, since the death of Lady St. Aubyn: and recollections of the sister he lost so young, the sister he adored, have been too much for him."

"Surely," said Laura, "he must have been uncommonly attached to her, since six years have not effaced her from his memory." She sighed—the tear stood in her eye; for she thought—"It is scarcely as many months since I lost the sweetest sister in the world, yet she is comparatively forgotten."

"He cherishes every recollection of her," said O'Brien, "with officious care: he constantly wears her portrait next his heart. Before we left Spain, he insisted on visiting her grave, and was so deeply affected, I feared for his

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