"Whatever hour suits your Royal Highness, suits me," answered the Earl.
"And look you," said the Regent, "look out some boon fellows—let's have a merry time of it. I leave that to you, De Vere: au revoir till then."
The Captain attended the Prince to his favourite pony phaeton, and then ran upstairs again, put on his fur skin busby, and mounted his horse, after keeping his unlucky servant nearly two hours in the snow.
We must no longer weary our readers with further details of life at Brighton; but as we must faithfully recount not only the virtues, but the follies of our heroes, we are truly sorry to have to tell our readers that Lord Wentworth not only succeeded in finding out who the fair Spaniard (in whom we readily recognize Antonia Stacy, though under the assumed name of Juana Ferraras), was, but he also succeeded in prevailing upon the weak girl, who was taught to play her part so well, and who could not resist the temptations of a rich and handsome young peer, to accept his suit. The Earl's weak point, as the Captain judged, was the other sex, and while he blamed himself for his folly, and often wondered what Ellen Ravensworth would think if she knew all, he had not the moral courage to withstand this young girl's fascination. However, like all unhallowed affections, strong as his first admiration was, it had not the strength to stand the test of time; and the fancy, short-lived as it was violent, soon died away, and he became tired of her who had given her all for his sake. He also found it a most expensive affair, but this was not Juana's fault, but was due to the Captain's guile, who made her the medium by which he drew his brother's purse to a frightful extent, finding a little ready money was the very best means he had in his power of silencing the clamour of his creditors, and keeping brutal duns quiet. After about three weeks the Court returned to town, and the Earl and his brother hastened also to London in order to be present at the marriage of their sister Lady Edith to the Marquis of Arranmore. The ceremony, graced by the presence of royalty itself, came off with great éclat, and the happy pair started at once for the South of Europe, to spend their honeymoon at the Villa Reale at Naples, under a warmer sun and more genial clime than England afforded at that season. Villa Reale was one of the Earl's seats, and he insisted on his brother-in-law accepting it as his residence whilst at Naples. Captain de Vere as well as L'Estrange were charmed at first to see how well the plot turned out; they were, however, rather disconcerted—at least L'Estrange was, the Captain having another string to his bow—by the Earl's tiring so soon of the fair donna's charms. Their scheme was, if they could induce him to take her with him to Scotland, to threaten to prove a Scotch marriage. This they knew the Earl would never acknowledge, but, as it would be binding in law, Ellen Ravensworth would be left free, and probably disgusted, at her lover's faithlessness, might yet return to L'Estrange, whilst the Captain would have the better chance of succeeding to his brother's envied coronet, and still more envied fortune.
CHAPTER X.
"Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more;
Men were deceivers ever."—Much ado about Nothing.
"From sport to sport they hurry me, to banish my regret,
And when they win a smile from me, they think that I forget."
Baillie.
We must again pick up the dropped thread of our story, and return to the family at Seaview, to see what the Ravensworths have been doing all this time. The sudden departure of the Earl had fallen like a thunderbolt on poor Ellen and her brother. Whilst they stayed at the Towers they had been to her like a bright ray of sunshine that bursts through the clouds on a stormy day, as evanescent as it was brilliant, it had soon departed. And now life seemed doubly dark and cheerless when she contrasted it with those happy days, numbered among the things that were. How much had been crowded into that short span,—how much compressed into that little month! It had found her a wild enthusiastic dreamer, a conjurer of vain hopes that might never be realized;—it had left her able to look back, not on the unreal fictions of a poetic mind, not on the airy castles of imagination, but on truth—substantial, real, earnest! It had found her a captive to love she could not reciprocate; it had left her loving,—fondly, devotedly loving, and she believed as fondly, as devotedly beloved. It had been an era of the utmost importance,—a month the most pleasurable and the most joyous of her young life. She had something, too, on which to rest her love,—something on which to anchor her affections; how else could she interpret the golden circlet with its virgin emeralds that gemmed her finger, and those oft-read words, "Hope on"? This was a link between parted lovers; whilst she owned that ring it seemed as though a bond bound their hearts together; it was a remembrance of bright days past,—a pledge of still brighter days to come; and however dull was her present life, however uneventful the passing hour, whilst she had this ring she had the "one remembrance fondly kept," and seemed to possess, as it were, a kind of loadstone which, though her guiding star was unseen, still trembled to the pole of her affections. Johnny's feelings were, of course, of a very different nature; he only regretted lost pleasures,—his rides, his drives. Another thing was, that while his great friends had been near he had been made much of, much petted; and of course liking the kind of life very well, and feeling it was a higher tone of society than he had been accustomed to, he had, naturally enough, cut all his old acquaintances and playmates; and now that the De Veres were gone he was left doubly lone, and much in the position of the jackdaw with borrowed plumes, unable to associate with those to whom he aspired, and in ill favour with those whom he cast off in his pride. So Johnny was thrown much more on his own resources, and, like his sister, his memory of past joys could ill atone for present miseries. It is a bad thing to be forced to live on the past. The mind becomes ill-directed, and it is a kind of mental backsliding. Careless of the future, forgetful of the present grows such a mind: it is like the antiquary groping in the ruins of old, and never allowing his eye to rest on the palaces of the modern time. Such was the case with these two. Their father had returned to the dull routine of every-day life; and though he had enjoyed the past, now that it was gone, he was too busy to give more than a passing thought to it. But Ellen passed the time in vain attempts to recall and revivify the days gone by; and Johnny, when not actually at his lessons, was wont to let his mind run on the days at the Towers, his drives and his amusements, and this was invariably the topic of their conversation when they got together, utterly upsetting all useful employment, and unhinging their minds for life's real duties. Time fled by on silent wing, and soon three weeks had almost imperceptibly glided away, and yet they had had no sort of intelligence of their friends, except the bald paragraphs that occasionally told their whereabouts, in the papers. One evening, however, the postman brought a letter addressed in the Earl's own handwriting to Ellen. For a moment her excitement was so great that she could hardly break the seal, and thousands of conjectures passed rapidly through her mind. She tore it open,—there was no letter from the Earl, but an announcement of the Marquis and Marchioness of Arranmore's marriage. It was certainly a disappointment, for Ellen had expected little short of a long and loving epistle; but still it proved one grand point,—she was not forgotten. In all the bustle of his sister's marriage, in all the distraction of company, she had dwelt in his mind; he had himself addressed the envelope; certainly he could not have done so to every one to whom cards were sent. The ring bade her "hope on,"—she would hope! The next night's mail brought the London papers with a full and glowing description of the gay ceremony. How eagerly Ellen read every word; how eagerly she pored over the names, ay, and even the dresses of the guests; how she wished she had been there; another hope whispered perhaps her own wedding would next take place, a gayer assemblage would meet together, and she be bride and queen of all! She smiled at this conceit and read on: what does she read? Mr. Ravensworth was standing near the fire, the only person then in the drawing-room besides herself; he was also reading, when suddenly he was alarmed by her loud, harrowing scream, and at the same moment he saw Ellen dash the paper on the ground, and rush frantically from the room. All was so sudden, all took place in such a moment, he stood paralyzed. His first thought was that Ellen was ill, and his impulse to follow; his next, to see if there was anything in the paper to account for this strange conduct. He picked up the paper; the first sentence his eye caught was quite enough,—enough to explain all. The short but fatal passage ran as follows:—"We are authorized in stating that the young Earl of Wentworth will shortly lead Lady Alice Claremont to the hymeneal altar, thus forming a double bond between these noble families. Lady Alice is the youngest sister of the noble Marquis of Arranmore." He dropped the paper, still undecisive how he should act, when, to his surprise and astonishment, who should enter the room but Ellen, apparently quite composed, with a smile on her face; but one had only to look at her wild eye, to see all was not right. Her smile was the bitter smile which sometimes betrays rejected love. So allied are our intensest feelings of sorrow and pleasure, that tears may course the cheek for very joy, and smiles light the countenance for very sorrow, blackness, and stagnation of woe.
She sat down on a sofa, but she scarcely knew where she was; she spoke not, sighed not, wept not,—she scarcely seemed to draw her breath. The eloquence of that silent suffering was awful; the stillness was the stillness of death,—not the death of the mortal frame, but the death, the annihilation of all soft feelings, and all love by one fell swoop.