“I cannot mince my tale,” was the gloomy reply, “nor deal out poison by drops. By some fatal mistake the balloon was let off before the car had been entered by the only man who could guide it. We are never likely to hear anything more of it, or the unfortunate beings within it!”
“Who were in it?” exclaimed the Aumerles in one breath. “Who were in it?” echoed the countess in a sepulchral voice, fixing upon Bardon an eye which sought to read in his face a sentence of life or death.
“Augustine Aumerle was there—and Mabel—”
The father uttered an exclamation of anguish, and Ida staggered backwards, closing her eyes, as if a poniard had stuck her.
“And—and—the Earl of Dashleigh!”
Annabella gave such a piercing cry as agony might wring from a wretch upon the rack, and would have sunk on the earth but for the support of her uncle.
“There may be hope yet,—God is merciful,—He will have compassion on us,—let us pray, let us pray!” exclaimed the vicar, in the sight of the misery of another seeming half to forget his own.
“See—see!” exclaimed Cecilia, suddenly pointing towards the sky.
There was breathless silence in a moment, and every eye was eagerly turned in the same direction. A small dark object appeared aloft, floating far, far higher than wing of bird ever could soar! Who can describe the intensity of the agonizing gaze fixed by father—sister—wife, upon that little distant ball? Arms were wildly stretched towards it, but not a word was uttered, scarce a breath was drawn while it yet remained in sight. Even when it had disappeared, the upwards-gazing group seemed almost as if transfixed into stone; till Bardon, with rough kindness, attempted to draw Annabella back into the cottage, muttering, “I feel for you, from my soul I do!”
“Feel for me!” exclaimed the countess, shrinking from his touch with an expression of horror, her pent-up anguish finding vent in passionate upbraiding; “you who led me to this abyss of misery, you who roused up my accursed pride, you who made me write words which I would now only too gladly blot out with my heart’s blood! But for you I might have listened to truth; but for you I might never have left the true friends to whom I turn in my agony now! Oh, may God forgive you,” she added wildly,—“God help me to forgive you, but never, never enter my presence—never let me behold you again!”