"We shall meet before long, but of the manner of our meeting I cannot tell you yet. Till then adieu!--Yours in hope,
"LEONARDO DI MARIONI.
"P. S.--I forgot to say that the whole of the poison, or even half a teaspoonful, would produce sudden and abrupt death. Just a pinch, administered twice, perhaps, in order to be quite secure, would be sufficient."
Enclosed in the letter was the oblong envelope he spoke of, which I carefully opened. It contained only a small quant.i.ty of pale pink powder, which emitted a faint pungent odor. I locked it up in my desk, and destroyed the letter.
All my strength had returned. I felt myself free from the madness of this overmastering love. Another pa.s.sion for the moment had taken its place. The vision of that old man, wandering about the streets of Rome, with a sad, weary heart and tottering limbs out of touch with the times, a figure for a half-contemptuous pity; that is the picture which I saw steadily before me to nerve my heart and purpose, and well it succeeded.
The second bell roused me from my thoughts. I hastily rose from my chair, and attired myself in the plainest gown which I possessed. I unlocked my desk, and thrust the little packet into my pocket. Then, without jewelry or flowers, and with my hair plainly coiled upon my head, I went downstairs.
They had commenced dinner when I arrived, and Lord Lumley glanced reproachfully at me as I took my seat. From the sudden silence directly I entered, I imagined they had been talking of me, and I made my excuses with a momentary nervousness. There was something unusual in the air. It seemed to me that Lady St. Maurice was regarding me with a new and kindly interest. She said nothing, as I had dreaded she would, of my long absence from the house, and Lord St. Maurice, with a courtesy unusual even for him, rose when I entered, and motioning the butler away, himself held my chair. What did it all mean? At another time I might have wondered more, but just then there were other thoughts in my mind. Should I have an opportunity to commit my crime that night? I feared not.
I gave no one any chance for sentimental conversation during dinner time, for I talked more than usual, and in a lighter vein. I wanted nothing said which could bring back to my memory that wild scene on the cliffs, or the hours of agony which I had been through. All such things were of the past. I desired to be able to look back upon them as upon some strange night-dream--fair enough of itself, but gone with the first breath of morning. To my relief, the others, too, avoided the subject.
There was nothing said about Lord Lumley"s escape which even bordered upon the pathetic.
Dinner, which seemed to me to last longer than usual, came to an end at last. I had planned to make some excuse to the Countess, and leave the drawing-room before Lord Lumley could follow, but, as I had half expected that he might, Lord Lumley accompanied us there without waiting to smoke. To my surprise, Lady St. Maurice, before I could frame an excuse to her for my own departure, left us alone. Lord Lumley held the door open for her, and it seemed to me that a meaning glance pa.s.sed between them. It was beyond my understanding. I could only see that my plans were frustrated, and that I must prepare for another struggle.
He shut the door carefully, and then came back and stood over me. I looked at him calmly. How could he read the agony in my heart.
"I am waiting for my answer, Margharita!" he said simply.
"You have had the only answer which I can ever give you, Lord Lumley! I answered--"No!""
Then he did a thing which sounds very absurd, but which did not indeed seem so. He sank on one knee and took possession of my hand. I was on a low chair, and his face now was on a level with mine.
"Margharita, my love," he whispered, ""no" is an answer which I shall never take. Yesterday I went away and left you, to-day I am wiser.
Nothing can undo those few minutes on the cliffs, dearest. You love me!
Ah! you cannot deny it! Have I not read it in your face, and in your eyes? Take back your "no," Margharita. By the memory of those few minutes, you are mine forever! You have not the power or the right to deny yourself to me. You are mine! You belong to me!"
I shrank back. I began to be frightened at his earnestness--at the note of triumph in his voice. How strong and masterful he was. Should I be able to hold out against him? Only my will and the memory of a wasted life against my heart and such pleading as this. It was a hard, unequal battle.
"Margharita, I love you all the more that you are not lightly won!" he continued, drawing me closer to him--almost into his arms. "Listen! I believe that I have some idea as to the reason of your answer. You think, perhaps, that my people might not be willing. You are proud--too proud. Tell me, is this not so?"
"A governess is no fitting wife for you. You should choose one from among the n.o.ble women of your country. I----"
He interrupted me. If I had not drawn back quickly he would have stopped my lips with a kiss.
"No one in this world could be as fit as you, for it is you, and you only, whom I love. But listen! I have spoken to my mother. I have told her."
"You have told her what?" I cried.
"That I love you. That I have asked you to be my wife."
"What did she say?"
"What a true woman and good mother should say; that if you were indeed my choice, then she was ready to welcome you as her daughter, and my wife."
"You cannot mean it!" I cried. "She knows nothing of me, and I am penniless."
"She knows that I love you, and that would be sufficient, dearest. But, as it happens, she knew more about you than I did. From her I learned, for the first time, that your mother came from a family which was great and n.o.ble before ours was ever founded. She told me a sad story of your uncle, Margharita, which you, too, doubtless know of, and she seemed glad to think that our marriage would be, in a certain sense, an act of poetic justice. She told me, too, Margharita, that if your uncle died unmarried, you could, if you chose, take his name and call yourself the Countess di Marioni. Why, sweetheart, I am not sure that I ought to aspire to the hand of so great a lady."
"Your mother, the Countess of St. Maurice, told you all this? She desires our marriage? She knows what you are asking me?" I repeated breathlessly.
"Most certainly! Shall I call her? She will tell you so herself."
"Do not speak to me for a moment, please."
I was an idiot, but I could not help it. I buried my head in the sofa cushion, and sobbed. Everything seemed fighting against me, to make my purpose more difficult.
I think that tears have a softening effect. I had steeled my heart against my lover, and yet he conquered. I felt his strong arms around me, and his lips were pressed against my wet cheeks. Oh! for strength to thrust him from me--to deny my love, but I could not.
Why should I try to recall his words? Nay! if I could, I would not set them down here! I felt every fiber of my nature glowing with delight as I listened; every chord seemed quivering with heart-stirring music. I had given up all idea of resistance. A strange drowsy peace had stolen in upon me. One of his arms was around my waist, and my hand was imprisoned in his. So we sat, and the moments became golden.
Interruption came at last. The door opened, and Lady St. Maurice entered. My lover rose at once, still holding my hand.
"Mother," he said, "Margharita has made me very happy. Will you speak to her?"
She came to us, and bent over me, her face looking very soft and sweet in the shaded light. In another moment she would have kissed me. I sprang to my feet, pale with horror.
"No, no, it cannot be!" I cried. "I am not fit to be his wife--to be anybody"s wife! Lady St. Maurice, will you not tell him so for me? Let me go away!"
She looked surprised at my agitation, but she little guessed its cause.
How was she to know anything of that little packet which seemed to be burning a hole in my heart?
"No! I will not tell him that!" she said, smiling. "He loves you, and I believe that you are worthy of his love. That is quite sufficient. I shall be glad to have you for a daughter, Margharita."
Lord Lumley thanked her with a look, and took her hand. They stood together on the hearthrug, and I was on the other side facing the window. Suddenly my heart gave a great leap, and the color died out of my face. Pressed against the dark pane I could see a pale, white face watching us. It was the face of my uncle, Count di Marioni.
I stood swaying backward and forward for a moment, sick and dizzy with the horror of it. My eyes grew dim, and a mist seemed to fill the room.
Then I felt myself sink back into my lover"s arms, and memory became a blank. I had fainted.
CHAPTER XXVIII
ONE DAY"S RESPITE
The sun has risen upon the last day which I shall spend on earth; and I sit down calmly to write all that happened to me yesterday, and my reason for the step which I am about to take.
It is a fair still morning, and the birds are singing gaily in the grove. My window is open, and the early freshness of the autumnal air is filling the room. For hours I have been on my bed there, hot and restless, praying for the dawn, that I might carry out my purpose; and as soon as the first faint gleam of light in the east broke through the dark night clouds, I arose and bathed my eyes and sat down here to wait.
I have watched the sun rise up from the ocean, slowly gathering strength until its first quivering beams glanced across the dull gray sea, and even penetrated into my chamber. And with the dawn has come peace. I sit here calm and prepared for the trial to come.
It was the evening before yesterday when I saw my uncle"s face pressed against the window pane, and fainted with the shock. Early on the following morning a note from him was brought up to me, having been left by a messenger from the village. Here it is:--