LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

of course not,” said Ada, kissing her. “But, mark my words, it will be so,” she continued, dreamily, as she clasped the jewels upon her friend’s arms and neck. “There, I declare they are quite regal, and must have cost hundreds of pounds! I love sapphires; they are so much like forget-me-nots – true blue, you know. There, how stupid I am, setting you off again! But look, darling, are they not lovely? I never saw a more beautiful suite. That cross, too – it’s magnificent! But you must take care not to lose it. The ring is slight, and it might come detached. Now, then, bathe those eyes, while I put the present away. Really I’ve a great mind to let you wear them at dinner to-night.”

      Marion said nothing, and Ada slowly replaced the gems, lingering long over the cross, little thinking it was to be the bane of her cousin’s life.

      Under the Shadow

      Ada Lee was right: there was a good deal of the Spanish grandee in the aspect of Sir Murray Gernon, who traced back his pedigree to the old Norman days, when, as a recompense for the service of the stout knight, Sir Piers Gernon, his squire, and so many men-at-arms, William gave him the pleasant lands whereon he built his castle, overlooking many an acre of Lincolnshire fen-land – a castle that gave place, in Tudor days, to the fine, square, massive, and roomy building, which still retained the name as well as the broad moat. Sir Murray entered the rectory drawing-room, tall, swarthy, and haughty of bearing, and was chatting graciously to the parents of his intended bride, when she entered the apartment.

      To a careless observer the morning’s sadness had all departed, and courtly lover could not have been better satisfied with his greeting as Marion crossed the room to meet him, placing both her hands in his, and looking up in his proud face as much as to say, “I am soon to be yours – be gentle with me.”

      Sir Murray took the hands with quite a protective air, smiling down upon the face, which he saluted with a lordly kiss upon the white forehead; and then, apparently well satisfied with the lady so soon to grace his table, he led her to a chair beside Ada, and in a somewhat cumbersome fashion began to chat about the morning’s proceedings.

      “Studying dress I presume we should have been?” said Ada. “But we were away by the edge of the marsh, botanising, for half the day. Poor Marion has been taking a farewell of her favourite pursuit,” she added, laughingly.

      “I don’t see that at all,” said Sir Murray. “I admire natural history, and shall hope that Lady Gernon will prove a kind and patient instructress.”

      “I think it was reserved for us at our return to find our brightest specimens, though,” said Marion, turning her large, dreamy eyes upon the baronet. “I have to thank you for your present, Murray.”

      “Oh, don’t talk about it – wear it,” was the response. “They are the old family jewels reset. I thought you would like them better modernised.”

      The dinner passed off quietly. Sir Murray Gernon, who prided himself upon his birth, lineage, and wealth, taking matters in a courtly manner, considering that it would be unbecoming, even upon the evening preceding his marriage, to forget his dignity. Hence there was a something that seemed almost verging upon coldness in his farewell that night, even when he whispered the words, “Till to-morrow, dearest.” There was no apparent ardour, although he was, certainly, contented and proud; and he rode home that night at a very respectable hour, telling himself that he was one of the happiest men in the kingdom.

      When Marion was once more alone with her cousin, the emotion, crushed down, hidden beneath a mask of cheerfulness, asserted itself in a way that alarmed even herself: sobs and hysterical cries seeming to tear themselves from her breast, to be succeeded, though, at last by a calm, as, evidently by a great effort, she overcame the weakness to which she had given way.

      “Don’t be angry, Ada!” cried the agitated girl, as she clung to her friend. “I am very – very weak, I know; but to-morrow I must be strong, and put weakness aside. To-night, I feel that if I did not give way, my agony would be greater than I could bear. I cannot dissimulate!” she exclaimed, passionately. “I do not love this man as I should; he is cold and haughty, and does not try to make me love him. I have tried – tried hard, for they have set their mind upon it, and what can I do? But the old, old love will come back, and I seem to see poor Philip beckoning to me from the other side of the great black gulf, calling me, as it were, to him; and to go on with this – to keep faith to-morrow, is like being false, when I recall all my vows made before he went away.”

      “But, Marion, darling,” exclaimed Ada, “does not death solve all those ties? Come, dear, be tranquil, and do not give way to all this weakness. You do not do Sir Murray justice: he is proud and haughty; but look at the pride he has in you. There!” she cried, “I shall be glad when to-morrow is here, and the wooing ended by the wedding. I will not say, fight back all these sad memories, because I know you have tried; but pray, pray think of duty, of what you owe to your betrothed, as well as to your parents. Come, to bed – to bed, or I shall be blamed for the sad, pale face that will be under the orange blossoms to-morrow.”

      “Do you think the dead have power to influence us, Ada?” said Marion, who had sat with her hair pressed back from her temples, and had not apparently heard a word her cousin had said.

      “The dead! – influence!” said Ada, looking almost with fear in her companion’s face.

      “Yes, influence us; for it seems as if Philip were ever present with me, drawing me, as it were, to him, and reproaching me for my want of faith. Shall I always feel this? – always be haunted by his spirit, unseen but by myself? Ada, do you believe in foresight – in a knowledge of what is to be?”

      “No, certainly not, you foolish, childish creature!” exclaimed Ada, making an effort to overcome the strange thrill of dread her cousin’s words engendered. “How can you be so weak? It’s cruel of you – unjust.”

      “I shall not live long, Ada. I feel it – I am sure of it. If there is such a thing as a broken heart, mine is that heart. But I will do my duty to all, hard as it may be. And now, kiss me, dear, and go to your own room; for I am going to pray for strength to carry me through the trial, and that Heaven will make me to my husband a good and earnest wife.”

      What could she say? – how whisper peace to this troubled breast? Ada Lee felt that peace must come from another source, and, kissing tenderly the cold pale cheek, she went softly, tearfully to her own room.

      A Glance at the Substance

      The moon shone brightly through the window of Ada Lee’s bedroom as she seated herself thoughtfully by her dressing-table. She had extinguished her light, and, attracted by the soft sea of silvery mist spread before her sight over the marsh, she gazed dreamily out, watching the play of the moonbeams upon the wreathing vapour, now musing upon the past, now upon the present, and at last letting her eyes fall upon the green lawn beneath the window – one of about half-a-dozen, looking out upon that side of the old ivy-covered rectory. The trees cast dark, massive-looking shadows here and there, while patches of the grass, and now and then a flower-bed stood out, bathed in the soft light.

      How long she sat there musing she could not tell, but her reverie was rudely broken by the sight of a dark figure coming forth from amidst the shrubs upon her left, to stand for a moment gazing up at the house.

      Her heart beat violently, and a strange swimming sensation made blurred and indistinct the moonlit scene; but when, approaching more nearly to the window-pane, she gazed anxiously out, the dark figure had disappeared; there was nothing visible but the shadows cast by tree and shrub, and, hastily casting aside her fears, she smiled, telling herself that it was but fancy.

      What could any one want there at that time of the night? Burglars? Absurd, they would not openly show themselves while there were lights about the house, and even then it was not likely that they would cross the lawn. If not a creation of her brain, it was most probably one of Sir Murray Gernon’s keepers out upon his rounds, and taking a short cut to some copse or preserve.

      But for all that, Ada Lee sat long watching from her window. The painful beating of her heart was still there, and a cloud of fancies kept flitting through her brain. Strange, wild fancies they were,

Скачать книгу