THE PROPOSAL.
It was now the height of the season, and every night, and all day long,
there were parties to which Lady Horatia took me. The pale poet gave the
most delightful breakfasts, where we met all the wits and other
celebrities. We met Sir Alfred, and my two admirers, as Lady Horatia
called the little Marquis and Lord Woodford, everywhere, and the
beautiful Countess Rossi much oftener than I liked. Still, Lady Horatia
contrived most cleverly to avoid an introduction, although the Countess,
being a distant relation of mine, spoke, of course, to me sometimes,
although in a somewhat haughty and contemptuous manner. The poet even
relented, and she succeeded in appearing at one of his most _recherché_
breakfasts; and the excuses he gave were that the Count, who was a great
admirer of pictures, had expressed a wish to see those at his house.
Although I had the greatest horror of her, I could not help being glad
when she was at the parties to which we went, because I saw that Lady
Horatia was much more tolerant of Sir Alfred’s attention to me; in fact,
she could not help enjoying the triumph of my success, and I saw that
it blinded her to the dangers she had hitherto apprehended.
Sir Alfred made good use of the opportunities of talking to me, and I
became daily more completely dazzled and fascinated by him.
Mr. Mordaunt did not return from Langdale Priory, but wrote to beg that
Mrs. Mordaunt would join him in that neighbourhood, as he was staying
with some old friends; and he hinted in his letter that he wished to
remain a little longer, for various reasons. To our great disappointment
he said nothing about my new cousin, so we supposed that he had not seen
him.
As the house they had taken in London was not quite ready, Mrs. Mordaunt
was glad to join her husband at their old friend’s; for, as she never
went out at all in London society, she became rather tired of being
alone every evening, and most part of the day.
But Lady Horatia would not hear of my leaving her; and, in fact, I was
now very glad to remain, for besides having become better known in the
world in general, I could not bear the idea of losing the opportunity of
meeting Sir Alfred. Lady Horatia spared no pains to induce me to look
favourably on the young Marquis, for she was most anxious to make up the
match, and I am afraid that I often appeared more glad to see him than I
felt, in order to blind her to my love for the man to whom she objected.
In fact, I was always acting a part, and I knew that Sir Alfred was
well aware of it, for he rather encouraged me to treat him with
apparent coldness when Lady Horatia’s sharp eyes were watching us. That
he loved me I felt convinced, and several times he seemed on the point
of proposing; and then he appeared to put a force on his feelings, and
most mysteriously checked the half-pronounced words.
One night, towards the end of the season, Lady Horatia was not very
well, and she sent me to a great ball at L---- House with Lady Charlotte
Crofton. Whether it was that this was the first time he had seen me
without Lady Horatia, that this threw him off his guard, or because the
season was drawing to a close, and we might not meet often again--the
words were said, my foolish dreams were realized, and I felt that life
henceforth would be for me an uninterrupted course of bliss.
I was wildly joyous. I imagined that I had never before known what real
happiness was; but long afterwards I perceived that the wild delight
caused by the conviction of his love was not the pure happiness I had
enjoyed when, under the salutary influence of my father’s memory, I
spent those blissful months in his old home with Aunt Jane.
However, at that brilliant ball I was perfectly satisfied as we went
into the conservatory after the enchanting waltz during which the words
were spoken. I could imagine no happiness so great as mine. The Countess
Rossi was there that night, and she had been dancing that same waltz
with a handsome foreign prince. I saw that her malicious eyes were on me
when Sir Alfred had spoken, and that she perceived by my irrepressible
joy that he was accepted.
I was too happy to be depressed by the malignity of her look, but as we
were going away, and when Sir Alfred went to call the carriage, she
flitted past me, and putting her mouth close to my ear, whispered into
it with a serpent-like hiss--
“Hai dimenticato l’amato Carlo?”
I was so startled and bewildered, that for the moment I lost my presence
of mind, and when I recovered my senses, and looked for her, she was
gone.
Then she did know him--poor Carlo!--and he had no doubt been fascinated
by her wondrous beauty. The sudden vivid recollection of him which her
words had called forth, as if by some magic power, made me turn pale,
and a feeling of horror and dread seemed to paralyse me.
When Sir Alfred returned, to say the carriage was ready, he was quite
frightened at my paleness.
“Whatever has happened?” he said--“you look as if you had seen a ghost.”
“So I have, I believe,” I said, scarcely knowing what I was doing, for I
felt as if Carlo might suddenly appear at any moment, and reproach me
for my desertion--in fact, I felt as if Cunigunda’s mysterious power
would separate me from the man I now adored, and all I could say was to
implore him to come the next morning, for I could scarcely believe in
my happiness.
“Yes, at two o’clock I will come,” he whispered, as he contrived to
press my hand to his lips while at the door of the carriage.
Lady Charlotte chatted away as we drove home, but I was so completely
absorbed by the exciting and bewildering occurrences of the night, that
I believe I neither heard nor spoke a word. I had not been well for
several days, and the intoxicating joy of a fulfilment of my wildest,
most sanguine hopes, and then the fact of their being dashed to the
ground by the strange words of that malignant fairy, seemed to have had
a most strange and bewildering effect. My head seemed on fire, and Lady
Horatia’s maid, who had most kindly sat up for me till my return, was
quite frightened when she saw me.
“Mademoiselle ought not to have gone to that ball. I told milady so; you
had your head _échauffé_, and now you have got _la fièvre_. I shall make
a little _tisane_ for Mademoiselle.”
But the _tisane_ had no effect; my head became worse; I could not sleep,
and when Celestin came in in the morning, I was raving in delirium.
Here I must leave myself, and relate in the next chapter what I
afterwards heard of my state, and of the occurrences which happened that
day.