"Venetia," said her companion, in a tone of extreme tenderness, yet not untouched with melancholy, "dear Venetia, let us return, and return together, to that old fountain and those old days!"
Venetia shook her head. "Ah, Plantagenet!" she exclaimed in a mournful voice, "we must not speak of these things."
"Why not, Venetia?" exclaimed Lord Cadurcis, eagerly. "Why should we be estranged from each other? I love you; I love only you; never have I loved another. And you, have you forgotten all our youthful affection? You cannot, Venetia. Our childhood can never be a blank."
"I told you, when first we met, my heart was unchanged," said Venetia.
"Remember the vows I made to you when last at Cherbury," said Cadurcis. "Years have flown on, Venetia; but they find me urging the same. At any rate, now I know myself; at any rate, I am not now an obscure boy; yet what is manhood, and what is fame, without the charm of my infancy and my youth! Yes, Venetia! you must, you will he mine?"
"Plantagenet," she replied, in a solemn tone, "yours I never can be."
"You do not, then, love me?" said Cadurcis reproachfully, and in a voice of great feeling.
"It is impossible for you to be loved more than I love you," said Venetia.
"My own Venetia!" said Cadurcis; "Venetia that I dote on! what does this mean? Why, then, will you not be mine?"
"I cannot; there is an obstacle, an insuperable obstacle."
"Tell it me," said Cadurcis eagerly; "I will overcome it."
"I have promised never to marry without the approbation of my mother; her approbation you never can obtain."
Cadurcis" countenance fell; this was an obstacle which he felt that even he could not overcome.
"I told you your mother hated me, Venetia." And then, as she did not reply, he continued, "You confess it, I see you confess it. Once you flattered me I was mistaken; but now, now you confess it."
"Hatred is a word which I cannot understand," replied Venetia. "My mother has reasons for disapproving my union with you; not founded on the circ.u.mstances of your life, and therefore removable (for I know what the world says, Plantagenet, of you), but I have confidence in your love, and that is nothing; but founded on your character, on your nature; they may be unjust, but they are insuperable, and I must yield to them."
"You have another parent, Venetia," said Cadurcis, in a tone of almost irresistible softness, "the best and greatest of men! Once you told me that his sanction was necessary to your marriage. I will obtain it.
O Venetia! be mine, and we will join him; join that ill-fated and ill.u.s.trious being who loves you with a pa.s.sion second only to mine; him who has addressed you in language which rests on every lip, and has thrilled many a heart that you even can never know. My adored Venetia! picture to yourself, for one moment, a life with him; resting on my bosom, consecrated by his paternal love! Let us quit this mean and miserable existence, which we now pursue, which never could have suited us; let us shun for ever this dull and degrading life, that is not life, if life be what I deem it; let us fly to those beautiful solitudes where he communes with an inspiring nature; let us, let us be happy!"
He uttered these last words in a tone of melting tenderness; he leant forward his head, and his gaze caught hers, which was fixed upon the water. Her hand was pressed suddenly in his; his eye glittered, his lip seemed still speaking; he awaited his doom.
The countenance of Venetia was quite pale, but it was disturbed. You might see, as it were, the shadowy progress of thought, and mark the tumultuous pa.s.sage of conflicting pa.s.sions. Her mind, for a moment, was indeed a chaos. There was a terrible conflict between love and duty. At length a tear, one solitary tear, burst from her burning eye-ball, and stole slowly down her cheek; it relieved her pain. She pressed Cadurcis hand, and speaking in a hollow voice, and with a look vague and painful, she said, "I am a victim, but I am resolved. I never will desert her who devoted herself to me."
Cadurcis quitted her hand rather abruptly, and began walking up and down on the turf that surrounded the fountain.
"Devoted herself to you!" he exclaimed with a fiendish laugh, and speaking, as was his custom, between his teeth. "Commend me to such devotion. Not content with depriving you of a father, now forsooth she must bereave you of a lover too! And this is a mother, a devoted mother! The cold-blooded, sullen, selfish, inexorable tyrant!"
"Plantagenet!" exclaimed Venetia with great animation.
"Nay, I will speak. Victim, indeed! You have ever been her slave. She a devoted mother! Ay! as devoted as a mother as she was dutiful as a wife! She has no heart; she never had a feeling. And she cajoles you with her love, her devotion, the stern hypocrite!"
"I must leave you," said Venetia; "I cannot bear this."
"Oh! the truth, the truth is precious," said Cadurcis, taking her hand, and preventing her from moving. "Your mother, your devoted mother, has driven one man of genius from her bosom, and his country.
Yet there is another. Deny me what I ask, and to-morrow"s sun shall light me to another land; to this I will never return; I will blend my tears with your father"s, and I will publish to Europe the double infamy of your mother. I swear it solemnly. Still I stand here, Venetia; prepared, if you will but smile upon me, to be her son, her dutiful son. Nay! her slave like you. She shall not murmur. I will be dutiful; she shall be devoted; we will all be happy," he added in a softer tone. "Now, now, Venetia, my happiness is on the stake, now, now."
"I have spoken," said Venetia. "My heart may break, but my purpose shall not falter."
"Then my curse upon your mother"s head?" said Cadurcis, with terrible vehemency. "May heaven rain all its plagues upon her, the Hecate!"
"I will listen no more," exclaimed Venetia indignantly, and she moved away. She had proceeded some little distance when she paused and looked back; Cadurcis was still at the fountain, but he did not observe her. She remembered his sudden departure from Cherbury; she did not doubt that, in the present instance, he would leave them as abruptly, and that he would keep his word so solemnly given. Her heart was nearly breaking, but she could not bear the idea of parting in bitterness with the being whom, perhaps, she loved best in the world.
She stopt, she called his name in a voice low indeed, but in that silent spot it reached him. He joined her immediately, but with a slow step. When he had reached her, he said, without any animation and in a frigid tone, "I believe you called me?"
Venetia burst into tears. "I cannot bear to part in anger, Plantagenet. I wished to say farewell in kindness. I shall always pray for your happiness. G.o.d bless you, Plantagenet!"
Lord Cadurcis made no reply, though for a moment he seemed about to speak; he bowed, and, as Venetia approached her aunt, he turned his steps in a different direction.
CHAPTER XVI.
Venetia stopped for a moment to collect herself before she joined her aunt, but it was impossible to conceal her agitation from the Countess. They had not, however, been long together before they observed their friends in the distance, who had now quitted the palace. Venetia made the utmost efforts to compose herself, and not unsuccessful ones. She was sufficiently calm on their arrival, to listen, if not to converse. The Countess, with all the tact of a woman, covered her niece"s confusion by her animated description of their agreeable ride, and their still more pleasant promenade; and in a few minutes the whole party were walking back to their carriages.
When they had arrived at the inn, they found Lord Cadurcis, to whose temporary absence the Countess had alluded with some casual observation which she flattered herself was very satisfactory.
Cadurcis appeared rather sullen, and the Countess, with feminine quickness, suddenly discovered that both herself and her niece were extremely fatigued, and that they had better return in the carriages.
There was one vacant place, and some of the gentlemen must ride outside. Lord Cadurcis, however, said that he should return as he came, and the grooms might lead back the ladies" horses; and so in a few minutes the carriages had driven off.
Our solitary equestrian, however, was no sooner mounted than he put his horse to its speed, and never drew in his rein until he reached Hyde Park Corner. The rapid motion accorded with his tumultuous mood.
He was soon at home, gave his horse to a servant, for he had left his groom behind, rushed into his library, tore up a letter of Lady Monteagle"s with a demoniac glance, and rang his bell with such force that it broke. His valet, not unused to such ebullitions, immediately appeared.
"Has anything happened, Spalding?" said his lordship.
"Nothing particular, my lord. Her ladyship sent every day, and called herself twice, but I told her your lordship was in Yorkshire."
"That was right; I saw a letter from her. When did it come?"
"It has been here several days, my lord."
"Mind, I am at home to n.o.body; I am not in town."
The valet bowed and disappeared. Cadurcis threw himself into an easy chair, stretched his legs, sighed, and then swore; then suddenly starting up, he seized a ma.s.s of letters that were lying on the table, and hurled them to the other end of the apartment, dashed several books to the ground, kicked down several chairs that were in his way, and began pacing the room with his usual troubled step; and so he continued until the shades of twilight entered his apartment. Then he pulled down the other bell-rope, and Mr. Spalding again appeared.
"Order posthorses for to-morrow," said his lordship.
"Where to, my lord?"
"I don"t know; order the horses."
Mr. Spalding again bowed and disappeared.
In a few minutes he heard a great stamping and confusion in his master"s apartment, and presently the door opened and his master"s voice was heard calling him repeatedly in a very irritable tone.
"Why are there no bells in this cursed room?" inquired Lord Cadurcis.