"Ah, Lady Tinemouth!" exclaimed the count, drawing closer to her; "could not even your generous sympathizing heart escape calamity?"
"To cherish a sympathizing heart, my young friend," replied she, "is not a very effectual way to avoid the pressure of affliction. On the reverse, such a temper extracts unhappiness from causes which would fail to extort even a sigh from dispositions of less susceptibility. Ideas of sensibility and sympathy are pretty toys for a novice to play with; but change those wooden swords into weapons of real metal, and you will find the points through your heart before you are aware of the danger—at least, I find it so. Mr. Constantine, I have frequently promised to explain to you the reason of the sadness which so often tinges my conversation; and I know not when I shall be in a fitter humor to indulge myself at your expense, for I never was more wretched, never stood more in need of the consolations of a friend."
She covered her face with her handkerchief, and remained so for some time. Thaddeus pressed her hand several times, and waited in respectful silence until she recommenced.
"Forgive me, my dear sir; I am very low to-night—very nervous. Having encountered two or three distressing circumstances to-day, these tears relieve me. You have heard me speak of my son, and of my lord; yet I never collected resolution to recount how we were separated. This morning I saw my son pass my window; he looked up; but the moment I appeared, he turned away and hastened down the street. Though I have received many stronger proofs of dislike, both from his father and himself, yet slight as this offence may seem, it pierced me to the soul. O, Mr. Constantine, to know that the child to whom I gave life regards me with abhorrence, is dreadful—is beyond even the anxious partiality of a mother either to excuse or to palliate!"
"Perhaps, dear Lady Tinemouth, you misjudge Lord Harwold; he may be under the commands of his father, and yet yearn to show you his affection and duty."
"No, Mr, Constantine; your heart is too good even to guess what may be the guilt of another. Gracious Heaven! am I obliged to speak so of my son!—he who was my darling!—he who once loved me so dearly! But hear me, my dear sir; you shall judge for yourself, and you will wonder that I am now alive to endure more. I have suffered by him, by his father, and by a dreadful woman, who not only tore my husband and children from me, but stood by till I was beaten to the ground. Yes, Mr. Constantine, any humane man would shudder as you do at such an assertion; but it is too true. Soon after Lady Olivia Lovel became the mistress of my lord, and persuaded him to take my son from me, I heard that the poor boy had fallen ill through grief, and lay sick at his lordship's house in Hampshire. I heard he was dying. Imagine my agonies. Wild with distress, I flew to the park lodge, and, forgetful of anything but my child, was hastening across the park, when I saw this woman, this Lady Olivia, approaching me, followed by two female servants. One of them carried my daughter, then an infant, in her arms; and the other, a child of which this unnatural wretch had recently become the mother. I was flying towards my little Albina, to clasp her to my heart, when Lady Olivia caught hold of my arm. Her voice now rings in my ears. 'Woman!' cried she, 'leave this place; there are none here to whom you are not an object of abhorrence.'
"Struggling to break from her, I implored to be permitted to embrace my child; but she held me fast, and, regardless of my cries, ordered both the women to return into the house. Driven to despair, I dropped on my knees, conjuring her, by her feelings as a mother, to allow me for one moment to see my dying son, and that I would promise, by my hopes of everlasting happiness, to cherish her child as my own should it ever stand in need of a friend. The horrid woman only laughed at my prayers, and left me in a swoon. When I recovered, the first objects I beheld were my lord and Lady Olivia standing near me, and myself in the arms of a man-servant, whom they had commanded to carry me outside the gate. At the sight of my husband, I sprang to his feet, when with one dreadful blow of his hand he struck me to the ground. Merciful Providence! how did I retain my senses! I besought this cruel husband to give me a second blow, that I might suffer no more.
"'Take her out of my sight,' cried he; 'she is mad.'
"I was taken out of his sight, more dead than alive, and led by his pitying servants to an inn, where I was afterwards confined for three weeks with a brain fever. From that hour I have never had a day of health."
Thaddeus was shocked beyond utterance at this relation. The paleness of his countenance being the only reply he made, the anguished narrator resumed.