That this should be there, and not felt for his wife! Mr. Godfrey did feel this an injury; though, as the duke said, love had not been in the bargain.
The long pause was at length broken by Mr. Godfrey's saying: "Your grace must excuse me, but, for my daughter's sake, I must insist on obtaining evidence that this marriage, which you admit did take place, was not legal. If I may not approach the lady myself, who can procure me the evidence I demand?'"
"I know not—unless—stay; I would willingly make one more attempt to secure Ellen's acceptance of a provision for her child. Hitherto she has rejected all mediation: not only the lawyer, but De Villeneuve, and a bishop of her own church, have solicited her in vain to listen to such an idea; a lady—a Catholic might be more successful. You have in your family one seemingly as pure and good as Ellen's self—one holding the same holy faith; if she will consent to undertake the mission, I will confide to her the secret of Ellen's residence. De Villeneuve will escort her, but I doubt if she will gain admittance; none have yet succeeded who went from me."
"You mean Euphrasie, I presume?"
"I do; if you can trust to her report, I shall gladly make her my ambassadress to treat respecting the future provision to be made for mother and child."
"I will see her on the subject."
"Tis well; good morning, Mr. Godfrey."
How little do we know of the inward feelings even of those with whom we fancy ourselves intimate! Here was the cold, heartless man of pleasure, so-called by the world, so thought of by his father-in-law, a prey, when left to himself, to the most violent emotions of grief for the loss of Ellen. Had it been possible at that moment to redeem her affections by the sacrifice of earthly grandeur, there is but little doubt that the sacrifice would have been made, for the loss of that sweet solace had never been contemplated as a necessary accomplishment to this marriage. For fifteen years he had kept his incognito in her society as Colonel Ellwood, and as Colonel Ellwood he meant to visit her still, and to indemnify himself in her sweet society for the heartlessness and cheerlessness of the ducal mansion.
This dream was at an end; he's incognito had been discovered, and at once all intercourse was over. The gay and courtly duke felt as if all interest in life had suddenly vanished from the earth. His outward demeanor appeared, indeed, unchanged, at least to superficial observers, but those who looked beneath the surface could detect a latent disdain for all things; and if the same pursuits still seemed to engage his attention, it was from habit, or from want of occupation, not from any relish for the pursuit itself. [{189}] Little did the world suspect that his gay and polished manner covered a broken heart, and that the munificent owner of countless rangers, the haughty scion of a long line of ancestors, was pining away beneath the blight which had destroyed is happiness, and was eventually to destroy his life. But we must not anticipate, rather let us return to our theme.
Euphrasie heard with surprise and pain of the position of her young friend Adelaide, but was most unwilling to undertake the negotiation proposed; it was only at M. de Villeneuve's reiterated assurance that it was a great work of charity which she demanded of her, that she at length consented.