“I scarcely understand you, beautiful and mysterious being!” exclaimed the Marquis, drawing nearer to the syren, who did not appear to notice the movement.
“I am aware that some of my notions are not altogether in accordance with those of society in general,” observed Laura, with an affectation of reserve and diffidence: “but since the conversation has taken this turn, I do not hesitate to admit that I do hold peculiar opinions with respect to marriage.”
“You would have me understand, Miss Mortimer,” said the Marquis, “that were you to find your affections enchained by some deserving individual, you would not hesitate to join your destinies to his, without the intervention of the Church to cement the union.”
“Your lordship has interpreted my meaning in language so delicate as to be almost ambiguous,” observed Laura. “And yet why should the truth be thus wrapped up in verbiage? I do not entertain opinions which I am afraid to look in the face. God forbid! In a word, then, I would ten thousand times rather become the mistress of the man I loved, than the wife of him whom I abhorred;—and in loving the former, and with him loving me, is it not that union of hearts which, as I ere now said, should be effected only in the sight of heaven?”
“And have you ever yet loved?” asked the nobleman, in a tone of profound emotion, as he gazed long and ardently upon the splendid countenance whereon the light from the casements now fell with a Rembrandt effect, delineating the faultless profile against the obscurity that had already begun to occupy the end of the room most remote from the windows.
“Oh! my lord, that is a question which you can only ask me when we come to know each other better!” exclaimed Laura, after a few moments’ pause.
“And yet I already feel as if I had known you for as many years as our acquaintance numbers days,” said the Marquis. “Methought yesterday—and this morning too—that a species of intimacy—a kind of impromptu friendship had sprung up between us; and now you are somewhat cold towards me—your manner is not the same——”
“If I have been guilty of any want of courtesy towards your lordship, I should be truly—deeply grieved,” exclaimed Laura, surveying the nobleman with well affected astonishment at the accusation uttered against her.
“Oh! use not such chilling language, Laura—Miss Mortimer, I mean!” cried the old nobleman, half inclined to throw himself at her feet and implore her to take compassion upon him. “But I an mad—I am insane to appeal to you thus!” he continued, in a species of rage against himself. “How can I suppose that the society of an old man like me is agreeable to a young and beautiful creature such as you!—how can I give way to those glorious but fatal delusions that have occupied my brain for the last forty-eight hours! Oh! Miss Mortimer—would that I had never seen you!”
And the old nobleman, covering his face with his hands, literally sobbed like a youthful lover quarrelling with an adored mistress.