Jam te premet nox, fabulaeque Manes,
Et domus exilis Plutonis.--HORACE.
[“This very hour Death shall overcome thee, and the fabled Manes,
and the shadowy Plutonian realms receive thee.”]
The morning was dull and heavy as Lord Ulswater mounted his horse,
and unattended took his way towards Westborough Park. His manner was
unusually thoughtful and absent; perhaps two affairs upon his hands,
either of which seemed likely to end in bloodshed, were sufficient to
bring reflection even to the mind of a cavalry officer.
He had scarcely got out of the town before he was overtaken by our
worthy friend Mr. Glumford. As he had been a firm ally of Lord Ulswater
in the contest respecting the meeting, so, when he joined and saluted
that nobleman, Lord Ulswater, mindful of past services, returned his
greeting with an air rather of condescension than hauteur. To say truth,
his lordship was never very fond of utter loneliness, and the respectful
bearing of Glumford, joined to that mutual congeniality which sympathy
in political views always occasions, made him more pleased with the
society than shocked with the intrusion of the squire; so that when
Glumford said, “If your lordship’s way lies along this road for the next
five or six miles, perhaps you will allow me the honour of accompanying
you,” Lord Ulswater graciously signified his consent to the proposal,
and carelessly mentioning that he was going to Westborough Park, slid
into that conversation with his new companion which the meeting and its
actors afforded.
Turn we for an instant to Clarence. At the appointed hour he had arrived
at Westborough Park, and, bidding his companion, the trusty Wardour,
remain within the chaise which had conveyed them, he was ushered with
a trembling heart, but a mien erect and self-composed, into Lady
Westborough’s presence; the marchioness was alone.
“I am sensible, sir,” said she, with a little embarrassment, “that it is
not exactly becoming to my station and circumstances to suffer a meeting
of the present nature between Lord Ulswater and yourself to be held
within this house; but I could not resist the request of Lord Ulswater,
conscious from his character that it could contain nothing detrimental
to the--to the consideration and delicacy due to Lady Flora Ardenne.”
Clarence bowed. “So far as I am concerned,” said he, “I feel confident
that Lady Westborough will not repent of her condescension.”
There was a pause.
“It is singular,” said Lady Westborough, looking to the clock upon an
opposite table, “that Lord Ulswater has not yet arrived.”
“It is,” said Clarence, scarcely conscious of his words, and wondering
whether Lady Flora would deign to appear. Another pause. Lady
Westborough felt the awkwardness of her situation.
Clarence made an effort to recover himself.
“I do not see,” said he, “the necessity of delaying the explanation I
have to offer to your ladyship till my Lord Ulswater deems it suitable
to appear. Allow me at once to enter upon a history, told in few words
and easily proved.”
“Stay,” said Lady Westborough, struggling with her curiosity; “it is due
to one who has stood in so peculiar a situation in our family to wait
yet a little longer for his coming. We will therefore, till the hour is
completed, postpone the object of our meeting.”
Clarence again bowed and was silent. Another and a longer pause
ensued: it was broken by the sound of the clock striking; the hour was
completed.
“Now,” began Clarence, when he was interrupted by a sudden and violent
commotion in the hall. Above all was heard a loud and piercing cry,
in which Clarence recognized the voice of the old steward. He rose
abruptly, and stood motionless and aghast; his eyes met those of
Lady Westborough, who, pale and agitated, lost for the moment all her
habitual self-command. The sound increased: Clarence rushed from the
room into the hall; the open door of the apartment revealed to Lady
Westborough, as to him, a sight which allowed her no further time for
hesitation. She hurried after Clarence into the hall, gave one look,
uttered one shriek of horror, and fainted.