CHAPTER XLVI.

EXPLANATIONS.

At eleven o'clock on the following day, Lord Ellingham, who had passed a

sleepless and wretched night, called at the house of Lady Hatfield, and

was immediately conducted to the drawing-room, where Georgiana was alone

in readiness to receive him.

She was dressed in a morning garb, and, though very—very pale, looked

surpassingly lovely.

"My dear friend," she said, extending her hand, which, as he offered to

press it with rapture to his lips, she gently but still resolutely

withdrew,—"my dear friend—for such henceforth must I call you——"

"Georgiana!" he exclaimed, starting back: "what means this coolness?"

"Be seated, Arthur—and listen to me attentively," she said in a

plaintive and sweetly touching tone. "I am not very well—my nerves are

not strong to-day—and you must not manifest any impatience towards me.

Indeed, I ought to have postponed this interview: but I considered it to

be my duty—a paramount duty owing alike to yourself and to me—to enter

into as early an explanation as possible."

"This preface forebodes nothing favourable to my happiness," murmured

the Earl, as he sank into a seat to which Georgiana pointed—but which

was not by her side!

"Arthur," she continued, with difficulty maintaining sufficient control

over her emotions to enable her to speak calmly and collectedly, "you

know not how much I love you—how dearly I am devoted to you. For your

sake, and to bear the name of your wife, I could consent to become a

mendicant—a wanderer on the face of the earth,—renounce

fortune—rank—society—all, in fine, that we women are generally deemed to

hold so dear,—yes, all this could I do for your sake, so that you were

my companion! Then, conceive how hard it is for me—oh! how very hard, my

well-beloved Arthur, to be compelled to say that henceforth we must know

each other only as friends!"

"Merciful heavens!" ejaculated the Earl, uncertain whether the imagined

capriciousness of his Georgiana was about to assert its tantalizing

influence again, or whether any thing of a more serious nature, and

connected with the incidents of the preceding evening, was about to

present an insuperable bar to his happiness.

"Yes—Arthur," continued Georgiana, in an impressive tone, "henceforth we

must be but as brother and sister to each other. And as a dear, fond,

affectionate sister will I ever be to you; for your generosity would

have made me your wife in spite of——But you cannot wish me to refer to

_that_! And yet it _is_ that one sad episode in my life which now

asserts an inexorable influence over the conduct which we must _both_

pursue. It is that event, which you—in the noble candour, in the warm

liberality of your admirable disposition——"

"You praise me too highly, Georgiana," exclaimed the Earl. "I loved

you—I love you dearly; and in spite of all that you now say, hope is not

quenched within me. But, my God! when will this painful suspense pass?

When shall I behold you no longer a prey to an influence——"

"Alas! that influence must endure for ever!" murmured Lady Hatfield,

tears now trembling upon her eye-lashes.

"No—no!" cried the Earl with impassioned energy. "When, but a few days

ago, we entered into explanations with each other—when I informed you

that I was aware of the nature of that secret influence which tyrannised

over you,—did I not assure you that, as a loving husband, I would so

completely study your happiness——"

"Oh! yes," interrupted Georgiana; "and did I not declare that you had

given me a proof of affection such as man seldom gave unto woman?

Believe me—believe me," she added earnestly, "I felt all that there was

great—generous—and noble in your conduct: for, knowing that secret—that

sad, that fatal secret—you banished all prejudice—discarded even those

scruples which the most high-minded of men so often entertain under such

circumstances——"

"Dearest Georgiana!" exclaimed the Earl; "you attach far too much

importance to the secret of which you speak. What man that truly loves a

virtuous—beautiful—accomplished—and amiable woman, would allow himself

to be swayed——"

"Ah! every heart is not so generous as yours!" interrupted Georgiana.

"You recognise the complete innocence of my soul——"

"I cannot believe that you would be guilty of the wanton cruelty of

inflicting these tortures upon me, Georgiana," said the Earl, "were it

not for that strange—that almost morbid state of mind which is at times

produced by the recollection of a serious fright which you experienced

some years ago, and from the effects of which you have not completely

recovered. But, after all, wherefore do you praise me so

highly—wherefore do you thank me so much for the simple fact of not

allowing the knowledge of this occasional access of morbid feeling to

weigh with me——"

"Arthur!" almost shrieked Georgiana, losing all control over herself;

"then, you know not the secret—the dreadful secret——"

"Yes: have I not proved to you that I know it?" exclaimed the Earl,

surprised and grieved at the strange manner of Lady Hatfield. "Your

uncle put me in possession of the facts: and what is there in them,

after all? It is a mere adventure which one would now tell only as a

Christmas tale—or to amuse children,—had it not produced so serious an

influence upon your nerves, and——"

"Arthur! Arthur! is this a cruel pleasantry?" demanded Georgiana

hysterically; "or have we misunderstood each other all along?"

"You know that I am incapable of turning to ridicule or making a jest of

any thing that regards you, Georgiana," returned the Earl. "And as for

any misunderstanding between us, there is none. Our explanation the

other day was full—complete—satisfactory——"

"No—no," cried Lady Hatfield, painfully excited. "I see that I am

mistaken—that you have learnt a bare fact——"

"Yes: and since we are now conversing on the topic," said the Earl, "let

us enter fully into it and then abandon it for ever. I see that you

attach much importance to this subject—and that, when we are united,

there may be no necessity ever to recur——"

"If ever we are united!" repeated Georgiana, clasping her hands in

anguish of heart.

"Yes, my well-beloved," continued the Earl. "And now listen to me. About

seven years ago you were staying alone at Mauleverer Lodge in

Hampshire——"

"Oh! the fatal time—the fatal place!" cried Georgiana hysterically; and

though she would have given worlds to cut short the conversation, she

had not the power—for her mind was agitated like the ocean in a storm.

"You were staying alone at Mauleverer Lodge," proceeded Arthur, not

observing the extent of her emotion; "you were alone, save in respect to

the servants: but you had no relation—no friend there at the moment. And

one night—a man broke in——"

"A man—with a black mask——" murmured Georgiana, almost wringing her

hands.

"And bearing the denomination, too, of the _Black Mask_," continued Lord

Ellingham;—"this man broke into the house—and——"

"And—merciful heavens! Spare me the recital of the rest!" shrieked Lady

Hatfield, covering her face with her hands.

"Good God! do not thus give way to a reminiscence which, though painful,

should no longer exercise any influence over a strong mind!" said the

Earl, in a kind and soothing tone, as he approached and seated himself

next to Georgiana. "Consider, my dearly beloved—my angel—my intended

wife!—reflect, I implore you, upon the childishness of this behavior!"

"Childishness!" repeated Georgiana, with a convulsive shudder.

"Pardon the expression," said the Earl; "but I would reason with you—I

would endeavour to persuade you that an occurrence which is past and

gone, and which happens frequently in other houses, should not thus

paralyse all the naturally fine energies of your soul. What, in the name

of heaven! can it matter now, if a robber broke into a dwelling some six

or seven years ago? Your uncle told me that for some months fears were

entertained for your reason: but——Oh! my Georgiana, I do implore you

now—now that we are once again touching on this painful—most painful

theme—to exercise more command over yourself. You praise me—you thank

me, because I am willing to espouse one whose reason was shocked long

years ago;—for that is your secret, after all, Georgiana—dearest

Georgiana;—and you perceive that I know it!"

"My God! how have we misunderstood each other!" murmured the unhappy

lady:—"my secret—he knows it _not_!"

But the Earl could not catch the sense of the words which she thus

whispered to herself; and, with the fond hope of consoling her—for the

events of the preceding evening were for the time banished from his

memory—he took her hand, pressed it to his lips, and began to utter

syllables of tenderness and love.

Then, how terrible was his surprise—how acute the anguish which filled

his soul, when Georgiana, suddenly starting from the half-embrace in

which he was already enfolding her, exclaimed in a tone indicative of

the most exquisite mental agony, "No—Arthur—no: you are not acquainted

with my secret—and _now_, never, never will you learn it! We have

misunderstood each other—and I consented the other day to become your

wife, while labouring under a dreadful—oh! a dreadful error! But heaven

has interposed to prevent the consummation of _your_ misery—and _mine_!

And now," she added, with the calmness of despair, "let us separate,

Arthur—and henceforth be unto each other but brother and sister;—for

your wife I cannot become!"

"Georgiana, this is cruelty the most refined—the most wanton!" exclaimed

the Earl. "Am I again to pass through all the phases of

suspense—uncertainty—mystery—and doubt?—and will you in a few days

repent of all you have said, and recall this stern decision? But—much as

I love you—deeply as I am attached to you—I cannot—cannot endure a

treatment——"

"Pardon me—forgive me!" cried Georgiana; "but you do not comprehend me!

My reason is not unhinged,—I am subject to no whims—no caprice, Arthur!

A fatal mistake on my part alone induced me the other day to consent to

become your wife. That error has now been cleared up—our conversation of

this morning has convinced me of the tremendous misunderstanding that

had nearly wrecked all _your_ happiness! But, even had it not, there was

_another_ reason which would imperatively command us to think no more of

each other in the same light as we so lately did!"

"Ah! you allude, perchance, to the incident of last evening!" exclaimed

Lord Ellingham. "Permit me, then, to ask the object of that Rainford's

visit? Did he insult you? did he attempt to extort money from you? If

so——"

"No—no!" cried Georgiana, in whose bosom the mere mention of the

highwayman's name appeared to excite the most agonising feelings. "I

sent down a message to that effect last night. He did not insult me—he

did not come to injure me——"

"But his presence excited you most painfully, Georgiana!" interrupted

the Earl; "and it has also revived in your imagination——Oh! I understand

it all!" he cried, suddenly interrupting himself: "this Rainford is the

Black Mask—the noted highwayman of Hampshire!"

Lady Hatfield cast upon the young nobleman a look expressive of so much

mental suffering, that he was deeply touched—profoundly affected: and

yet he knew not how to administer consolation.

"Georgiana," he at length said, in as calm and collected a tone as he

could assume, though his heart was in reality rent by the most painful

emotions, "there is some terrible mystery in all this! I begin to

believe—as you yourself ere now endeavoured to persuade me—that your

reason is in no way affected—that you are not subject to mere whims and

caprices. No—the cause of your grief—your anguish—your horror at the

reminiscence of that event in Hampshire,—an anguish and a horror cruelly

revived last night by the presence of that Rainford, who is doubtless

identical with the Black Mask,—an anguish and a horror perpetuated, too,

until now," continued Arthur, more emphatically,—"the cause of all this

is far—far more serious than I had at first imagined. You say that you

cannot become my wife—and that you have laboured under a

misapprehension: you wish us to look upon each other as brother and

sister. And yet you do love me well enough to become my wife—did not

some terrible and fearfully mysterious obstacle stand in the way. Oh! if

you really love me—then pity me, and tell me this dreadful secret which

weighs upon your mind! Unless, indeed——"

And he paused abruptly, as an awful suspicion rushed into his brain.

Georgiana only turned her head aside, and sobbed convulsively.

"Unless, indeed," continued the Earl, after a few moments' silence, "it

would bring a blush to your cheek to enlighten me; and I cannot—cannot

ask you to humiliate yourself in my presence!"

"Arthur, I _dare_ not become your wife!" exclaimed Georgiana, suddenly

falling upon her knees before him; "and if you demand the reason—as,

after all that has passed between us, you have a right—I will confess——"

"Georgiana, no more!" cried the Earl, hastening to raise her. "Not for

worlds would I bring a blush to your cheek." Then, in a different—more

serious—and very mournful tone, he added, "Henceforth we will be to each

other as sister and brother."

With these words he touched her hand lightly with his lips, and was

about to hurry from the room; when, animated by a sudden thought,

Georgiana held him back, saying in a hollow, thick tone of voice,

"Whatever suspicion you now entertain—you do not believe that I—_was

guilty_?" she added, as if the very words were choking her.

"No, much injured woman!" cried the young nobleman warmly. "A light has

broken in upon my mind—and I understand it all."

"Yes—for a pure soul dwells in a tainted body," murmured Lady Hatfield;

"and if I have said this much—and you can well believe how painful to my

feelings the mere necessity of making such an assertion must be,—but in

making it, I am influenced only by the hope—the earnest hope of removing

from your mind—the mind of one whom I so much respect—so highly

esteem——"

"Say no more, my dearest _sister_!" interrupted the Earl emphatically;

"for as a sister do I now look upon you—and as a _brother_," he added

sternly, "will I avenge you. For _that_ was I ere now hurrying away so

abruptly!"

"Avenge me!" repeated Georgiana, looking wildly on the young nobleman's

countenance, which wore a calm but determined expression.

"Yes, Georgiana," replied the Earl: "wrongs so deep as yours demand a

deadly vengeance. And who so fit to become the instrument of that

vengeance, than he whom those wrongs which _you_ have sustained so

cruelly redound upon? But for that incarnate fiend Rainford, would you

not already—yes, already have been my loved and loving wife? Am I not,

then, also wronged by him? Have I not something to avenge?" he demanded

bitterly. "And to consummate this vengeance, Georgiana, I—your _brother_

henceforth—will forget my proud title—cast aside the remembrance of my

elevated rank;—and, dressed in mean attire, I will visit the noisome

dens—the foul courts—the low neighbourhoods of London, until I discover

that miscreant Rainford. Then will I—still forgetting the proud title

and the elevated rank—dare him to meet me in a duel, from which at least

but one shall depart alive, and wherein both may haply fall! I will not

yield him up to the hangman, Georgiana," continued the Earl, fearfully

excited; "because in his last moments he might confess his crimes, and

include amongst them the foul wrong he has inflicted on thee, my sister!

But I will descend to make myself his equal—I will place myself on a

level with that black-hearted ruffian——"

"Hold! hold!" screamed Georgiana, suddenly recovering the powers of

utterance which had been paralyzed by this tremendous explosion of

generous indignation on the part of that proudly-born noble who

proclaimed himself her champion. "Hold! hold! Arthur—you know not whom

you calumniate—whom you would provoke to the duel of death!"

"Yes—too well I know the miscreant!" cried the Earl furiously.

"No—no—you know him not!" screamed Georgiana wildly.

"This is childish—silly!" said the Earl impatiently. "Was it not

Rainford who——"

"Yes—yes: but this Rainford——"

"Is a fiend, with a heart so black——"

"Hold! hold! again I say," ejaculated Lady Hatfield, clasping her hands

in despair. "That Thomas Rainford whom you would make the victim of your

vengeance, is——"

"Is what?" demanded the Earl hastily.

"Is—is——"

"Who? in the name of heaven!"

"YOUR BROTHER!" was the hysterical reply.

The Mysteries of London, v. 3/4 · 第 46 / 101 章