THE BLACK VEIL.
Return we now to one whom we have long left, but whom the reader cannot
have forgotten.
In a sumptuously furnished room at the house of Mr. Wentworth, the
surgeon of Lower Holloway, Diana Arlington was reclining upon a sofa.
She was dressed in an elegant manner; but a large black lace veil,
doubled so as to render it more impervious to the eye of a beholder, was
thrown over her head. The folds were also so arranged that the
elaborately worked border completely concealed her countenance.
She was alone.
An open piano, a harp, and piles of music, together with a choice
selection of volumes on the shelves of a book-case, denoted the nature
of her amusements during her residence of several weeks at the surgeon's
abode.
It was mid-day.
The damask curtains at the windows were drawn in such a manner as to
reduce the light of the effulgent sun to a mellow and soft lustre within
that apartment.
Beautiful nosegays of flowers imparted a delicious fragrance to the
atmosphere.
The bounty of the Earl of Warrington had furnished the room in a style
of luxury which could scarcely be surpassed.
But was Diana happy?
Were those sighs which agitated her heaving bosom,—was that restlessness
which she now manifested,—was that frequent listening as the sounds of
wheels passed along the road,—were all these signs of sorrow or of
suspense?
Patience, gentle reader.
The time-piece on the mantel had chimed mid-day.
"He is not punctual," murmured Diana.
Ten minutes elapsed.
"He does not come!" she said aloud.
And her restlessness redoubled.
At length a carriage drove rapidly up to the door; and a long double
knock reverberated through the house.
"'Tis he!" cried Diana.
In a few moments the Earl of Warrington entered the room.
"Diana—dearest Diana!" exclaimed the nobleman, starting back when he
beheld her countenance covered with that ominous dark veil: "is it
indeed thus——"
"Thus that we meet after so long an absence?" added the Enchantress.
"Yes, my lord: Mr. Wentworth must have told you as much."
"No, Diana," answered the Earl, seating himself upon the sofa by her
side, and taking her hand: "you know not by what a strange idiosyncrasy
my conduct has been influenced. I entrusted you to Mr. Wentworth's care:
I enjoined him to spare no money that might procure the best advice—the
most efficient means of cure. Then I resigned myself to a suspense from
which I might at any moment have relieved my mind by an inquiry;—but at
the bottom of that suspense was a fond, a burning hope which made the
feeling tolerable—nay, even vested the excitement with a peculiar charm
of its own. I took it for granted that you would be cured—that your
countenance would be restored to that beauty which had originally
attracted me towards you;—and now, may I not say—without detriment to my
own firm character as a man, and without indelicacy towards your
feelings,—may I not say that I am disappointed?"
"And is this my fault?" asked Diana, in a soft plaintive tone. "Does
your lordship suppose that I have not also suffered—that I do not at
present suffer?"
"Oh! yes—you have—you do," answered the nobleman, pressing her hand with
warm affection. "When we were happy in each other's society, Diana," he
continued, "I never spoke to you of love: indeed, I experienced for you
nothing more than a fervent friendship and profound admiration. But
since I have ceased to see you—during the interval of our separation—I
found that you were necessary to me,—that I could not be altogether
happy without you,—that your conversation had charms which delighted
me,—and that your attachment was something on which I could ponder with
infinite pleasure. My feelings have warmed towards you; and I—I, the
Earl of Warrington—experience for you a feeling which, if not so
romantic and enthusiastic as my _first affection_, is not the less
honourable and sincere."
"Ah! my lord," said Diana, in a tremulous tone, "why raise the cup of
happiness to my lips, when a stern fatality must dash it so cruelly
away?"
"No, Diana—it shall not be thus dashed away," answered the Earl,
emphatically. "I am rich—I am my own master: not a living soul has a
right to control or question my conduct. The joy which I anticipated at
this meeting shall not be altogether destroyed. Here, Diana—here I offer
you my hand; and on your brow—scarred, blemished by an accident though
it be—that hand shall place a coronet!"
"My lord, this honour—this goodness is too much," said Diana, in a tone
of deep emotion. "Remember that I am no longer possessed of those charms
which once attracted you; and now that they are gone—gone for ever—I may
speak of what they were without vanity! Remember, I say, that you will
ever have before you a countenance seared as with a red-hot iron,—a
countenance on which you will scarcely be able to look without loathing
in spite of all the love which your generous heart may entertain for me!
Remember that when I deck myself in the garments befitting the rank to
which you seek to elevate me, that splendour would be a hideous
mockery—like the fairest flowers twining round the revolting countenance
of a corpse on which the hand of decay has already placed its mark!
Remember, in a word, that you will be ashamed of her whom, in a moment
of generous enthusiasm, you offer to reward for so much
suffering—suffering which originated in no fault of yours:—remember all
this, my lord—and pause—reflect—I implore you to consider well the step
you are taking!"
"Diana, I am not a child that I do not know my own mind," answered the
Earl: "moreover, I have the character of firmness: and I shall _never_
repent the proposal I now make you—provided you yourself do not give me
cause by your conduct."
"And on that head——"
"I have every confidence—the deepest conviction, Diana," interrupted the
Earl, warmly.
"Your wishes, then, are my commands—and I obey," returned Diana, her
voice thrilling with tones expressive of ineffable joy. "But shall we
not ratify our engagement with _one_ kiss?"
And as she spoke she slowly drew the black veil from her countenance.
The nobleman's heart palpitated, as she did so, with emotions of the
most painful suspense—even of alarm: he felt like a man who in another
instant must know the worst.
The veil dropped.
"Heavens! Diana," exclaimed the Earl, starting with surprise and
indescribable delight.
For instead of a countenance seared and marked, he beheld a pure and
spotless face glowing with a beauty which, even in her loveliest
moments, had never seemed to invest her before.
Not a scar—not a trace of the accident was visible.
Her pouting lips were like the rose moistened with dew: her high, pale
forehead was pure as marble; and her cheeks were suffused in blushes
which seemed to be born beneath the clustering ringlets of her dark
brown hair.
"Ah! Diana," exclaimed the Earl, as he drew her to his breast, "how can
I punish thee for this cheat!"
"You will pardon me," she murmured, as she clasped her warm white arms
around his neck, and imprinted a delicious kiss upon his lips, while her
eyes were filled with a voluptuous languor,—"you will pardon me when you
know my motives. But can you not divine them?"
"You wished to put my affection to the test, Diana," said the Earl.
"Yes—I must forgive you—for you are beautiful—you are adorable—and I
love you!"
"And if the sincerest and most devoted attachment on my part can reward
you for all your past goodness, and for the honours which you now
propose to shower upon me, then shall I not fail to testify my
gratitude," exclaimed Diana.
These vows were sealed with innumerable kisses.
At length the Earl rose to depart.
"Three days hence," he said, "my carriage will be sent to fetch you to
the church where our hands shall be united."
"And our hearts—for ever," returned Diana.
The nobleman embraced her once more, and took his leave.
But he did not immediately quit the house: he had business with Mr.
Wentworth to transact.
We know not the precise sum that this generous peer presented to the
surgeon: this, however, we can assure our readers, that he kept his word
to the very letter—for Mr. Wentworth became rich in one day.
"_If you succeed in restoring her to me_," had the Earl said, when he
first entrusted Diana to the surgeon's care, "_in that perfection of
beauty which invested her when I took leave of her yesterday—without a
mark, without a scar,—your fortune shall be my care, and you will have
no need to entertain anxiety relative to the future, with the Earl of
Warrington as your patron_."
Such were the nobleman's words upon that occasion; and, on the present,
he amply fulfilled his promise.
Three days after, Diana became the Countess of Warrington.
The happy news were thus communicated by the bride to her sincerest and
best friend:—
"_Grosvenor Square_,
"_March 22nd, 1840_.
TO HER SERENE HIGHNESS THE GRAND DUCHESS OF
CASTELCICALA.
"I steal a few minutes from a busy day, my dearest Eliza,—for by
that dear and familiar name you permit me to call you,—to inform you
that I have this morning united my destinies with those of the Earl
of Warrington. In a former letter I acquainted you with the dreadful
accident which menaced me with horrible scars and marks for
life:—you will be pleased to know that the skill and unwearied
attention of my medical attendant have succeeded in completely
restoring me to my former appearance—so that not a trace of the
injury remains upon my person. The Earl of Warrington has elevated
me to the proud position of his wife: the remainder of my existence
shall be devoted to the study of his happiness.
"I regret to perceive by your letters, dearest Eliza, that _you_ are
not altogether happy. You say that the Grand Duke loves you; but his
temper is arbitrary—his disposition despotic. And yet he is amiable
and gentle in his bearing towards you. Study to solace yourself with
this conviction. He has elevated you to a rank amongst the reigning
princesses of Europe; and as you have embraced the honours, so must
you endure some few of the political alarms and annoyances which are
invariably attached to so proud a position. You tremble lest the
conduct of the Grand Duke, in alienating from him those who are
considered his best friends, should endanger his crown. Are you
convinced that those persons are indeed his friends! Of course I
know not—I cannot determine: I would only counsel you, my dearest
friend, not to form hasty conclusions relative to the policy of his
Serene Highness.
"I perceive by the English newspapers, that there are numerous
Castelcicalan refugees in this country. Amongst them are General
Grachia and Colonel Morosino, both of whom, I believe, occupied high
offices in their native land. They, however, appear, so far as I can
learn, to be dwelling tranquilly in London—no doubt awaiting the
happy moment when it shall please your illustrious husband to recall
them from exile.
"His Highness Alberto of Castelcicala—(for you are aware that the
Earl of Warrington communicated to me some time ago the real rank
and name of _Count Alteroni_)—continues to reside at his villa near
Richmond. This much I glean from the public journals; but doubtless
you are well acquainted with all these facts, inasmuch as your
government has a representative at the English court.
"Adieu for the present, dearest Eliza:—I knew not, when I sate down,
that I should have been enabled to write so long a letter. But I
must now change my dress; for the carriage will be here shortly to
convey me to Warrington Park, where we are to pass the honeymoon.
"Ever your sincere friend,
"DIANA."
Such are the strange phases which this world presents to our view! That
same Fortune, who, in a moment of caprice, had raised an obscure English
lady to a ducal throne, placed, when in a similar mood, a coronet upon
the brow of another who had long filled a most equivocal position in
society.