L’Estrange repeated the words of the note. As he did so a sweet smile stole over her countenance; and clasping her hands together, she exclaimed, “Like himself—noble, generous Ethelston! Father, you are blind; he would not exculpate himself by proclaiming your daughter’s shame! If you doubt me, question Fanchette—Jacques—who know it all too well; but you will not doubt me, dear—dear father! By that Being to whose presence I am fast hastening, I tell you only the truth; by His name I conjure you to comfort my last moments, by granting my last request!”
L’Estrange averted his face: and rising almost immediately, desired an attendant to summon Ethelston without delay.
A long pause ensued: Nina’s lips moved as if in silent prayer; and her father, covering his face with his hands, struggled to control the anguish by which his firmness was all but overpowered. At length Ethelston entered the room; he had been informed that Nina was very ill, but was by no means aware of the extremity of her danger. Naturally indignant at the treatment he had lately received, knowing it to be undeserved, and ignorant of the purpose for which he was now called, his manner was cold, and somewhat haughty, as he inquired the commands which Captain L’Estrange might have for his prisoner.
The agonised father sought in vain for utterance: his only reply was to point to the almost lifeless form of his child.
One glance from the bed to the countenance of L’Estrange was sufficient to explain all to Ethelston, who sprang forward, and, wringing the old captain’s hand, faltered in a voice of deep emotion, “Oh! forgive me for so speaking,—I knew nothing—nothing of this dreadful scene!” then turning from him, he fixed his eyes upon Nina, while the convulsive working of his features showed that his habitual self–command was scarcely equal to support the present unexpected trial.
The deadly paleness of her brow contrasted with the disordered tresses of her dark hair, the long eyelashes, reposing upon the transparent cheek, which wore a momentary hectic glow, the colourless lip, and the thin wan fingers, crossed meekly upon her breast,—all gave to her form and features an air of such unearthly beauty, that Ethelston almost doubted whether the spirit still lingered in its lovely mansion: but his doubts were soon resolved; for having finished the unuttered but fervent prayer which she had been addressing to the Throne of Grace, she again unclosed her eyes; and when they rested upon his countenance, a sweet smile played round her lip, and a warmer flush came over her cheek. Extending her hand to him, she said, “Can you forgive me for all the wrong I have done you?”
In reply, he pressed her fingers to his lips, for he could not speak. She continued: “I know that I grievously wronged my parents; but the wrong which I did to you was yet more cruel. God be thanked for giving me this brief but precious hour for atonement. You more than once called me your sister and your friend!—be a brother to me now. And you, dearest father, if your love outweighs my fault,—if you wish your child to die happy, embrace him for my sake, and repair the injustice that you have done to his generous nature!”
The two men looked at each other; their hearts were melted, and their cordial embrace brought a ray of gladness to Nina’s eyes. “God be thanked!” she murmured faintly. “Let my mother now come, that I may receive her blessing too.”
While L’Estrange went to summon his wife to a scene which the weakness of her mind and nerves rendered her unequal to support, Nina continued: “Dear, dear Ethelston, let me hear your voice; the madness, the passion, the jealousy, that filled my bosom are all past; but the love is there, imperishable: tell me, my friend, counsellor, brother, that you are not angry with me for saying so now.”
Again the wasted fingers were pressed to his burning lip; his tongue could not yet find utterance, but a tear which fell upon them told to the sufferer that there was no indifference in that silence.