Her face and hands were pale; but a gentle colour, like the soft reflection from the rose, passed over her cheek, as he approached her. She tried to meet him with tranquillity; and to look at him with the open eye of friendly cognizance. But the moment his hand touched hers, her eye-lids fell; and a chill ran through her whole frame, to blanch her cheeks; and shook her with such a trembling, that the Marchioness made a sign to her husband to assist her in bearing her to the sofa.
The Marquis sat for same time, rubbing his daughter's cold hands in his; and the Marchioness touched her forehead and lips with essence. Louis did not venture to follow her to the sofa, but remaining standing where the group left him; and, as she lay, like a lilly on a velvet pall; so fair and fragile, in her mourning garments, he felt the possibility of his feeling a yet bitterer pang, than the death of his false friend. But the moment he thought so, he checked the selfish sentiment; and said in anguish of spirit to himself.—"O no! For with that gentle being dwells innocence and virtue.—When she goes hence her translation is to heaven:—And, can I mourn with bitterness, her who is in blessedness? But when the deluding, the betrayer, the impenitent! are called away! then my cry may be that of David —Oh, thou who wert once my friend—would to God, I could have died for thee!"
Ferdinand observed his countenance, and touched his arm.—"Why do you gaze with such despair on my sister?" whispered he, "Her illness is merely weakness, from fatigue. Lindisfarne will restore us all!"
"Heaven grant it!" was the response of Louis, as he recalled himself from the momentary wandering of his thoughts.
Marcella soon after re-opened her eyes; and having recovered her perfect recollection, she also strove to rally her self possession; and, though with still down-cast lids, she stretched out her hand to her father's friend, as he again advanced to impress it with his lips;—and in a calm, but low voice, expressed her pleasure at seeing him returned in safety to the country of his dearest relations. Louis, without attending to all the import of his words, replied by saying, that he trusted she would consider them as her own.
Many mutual inquiries now took place, and her share of the conversation was carried on for nearly an hour, with a composure, on the side of her daughter, that surprised and pleased the Marchioness. When she appeared exhausted, her mother rose; and she, following her example, took the parental arm, and with a bend of her head to her father, quitted the room.
Santa Cruz turned towards Louis, as his daughter disappeared; and observed, with a solemn emotion at his heart, that his eyes followed with anxiety, the slow progress of Marcella from the room; that he gazed on the door, a long time after it was closed on her; and then withdrew his attention, with a heavy, and deep-drawn sigh.
"De Montemar," said the Marquis, "come with me into my chamber; for I have much to say to you." The conference lasted many hours.—Santa Cruz assured him, that he had left no power unexerted, day or night, to bring the prejudiced mind of the King of Spain, to a fair judgment on the Duke de Ripperda's political integrity, great exasperations, and religious penitence.—"The Queen was more placable on your behalf;" continued the Marquis, "since the subject in debate was a handsome young man, who admired her.—At least so Duke Wharton made her believe!"
"Duke Wharton!" echoed Louis.
"Yes," replied the Marquis, "that man was ever a Proteus; and never more so, than in the present instance. When I, and all the Spanish ministry, thought him the most active enemy you had; he became master of all the malignancy that was in arms or in ambuscade against you; and, by a generalship as effective as it was surprising, turned the whole battery against its inventors." "Marquis!" cried Louis, starting from his chair; "What is it you say?"