"Keep up your spirits, Zoé; you shall be Lady Hautonville one of these days! I am resolved upon it, so do not be frightened; but we have much to do, and you have much to learn. You must be schooled for the new order of society which you are about to enter. Nothing can be more unlike the world than your present style of manners, dress, appearance. My wife can never be such a country lassie as you are; but I will have you put in the right way. I know a charming person, La Baronne de Torsi, who will be happy to do me a kindness. She will have pleasure in forming you to the standard of good taste. The materials, my Zoé, are perfect, but you want the air, the fashion, the indispensable tone of society, which you could not attain in this wretched place. What a pair are these poor old souls, my father and mother! They seem to have the year one, printed in large letters on every look, word, and gesture. We must bury them in the woods at Marchdale-court, while you and I figure away on the theatres of glorious France and Italy. I am sick of Old England's roast beef, and find nothing good or agreeable off the Continent. Good night, my lovely Zo; we will make all our arrangements on my return from this horrible funeral."
Algernon wished to seal these words, which were but jarring sounds to Zorilda's ear, by a kiss, but she turned, and hastily disengaging her hand from his, flew to the sanctuary of her chamber, there to reflect, through a sleepless night, upon the miseries of her destiny.
"La Baronne de Torsi! a stranger, a foreigner; she to form my mind, my manners, my tastes anew, to the frivolous and artificial? I will have no such monitress. Is this the language of true love? I know it not by these signs. There is no prison, however dreary, no wilderness however wild, into which Zorilda would not accompany the being whom she loved, to suffer pain and privation, and if not permitted her to shield, yet still to share each pang, would be her bosom's joy; but thus scorned, thus disdained, it must not, cannot be."
Morning came, and found the poor mourner still a prey to the tortures of wounded sensibility. Mr. Hartland and his son were to set out so early, that she was spared the humiliation of shewing how much power Algernon possessed over her affections. As he went down stairs he knocked at Zorilda's door, and slipped a bit of paper underneath, on which were hastily written, with a pencil, the following words:
"In the tumult of yesterday's meeting, I forgot to warn you against receiving any communication, either by letter or visit, from any one till my return. Addio, carissima, Algernon."
"Hah!" thought Zorilda, "Can this be the explanation? Is Algernon the unseen guardian who has been watching over me, and to whose friendly care I have been indebted for avoiding danger, though I know not of what nature? But no: the letter which I received is not in his hand-writing, and the sentiments which it expresses, so full of delicate consideration for the unhappy Zorilda, are alas! little in unison with the language of yesterday evening, which still echoes through my heart. Nothing but mystery appears to surround me whichever way my eyes are directed."
On meeting Mrs. Hartland in the breakfast-parlour, Zorilda's looks too plainly bespoke the state of her mind to leave a doubt of what she endured. A few constrained questions and answers broke the rigid silence which would otherwise have marked this unsocial meeting.
Mrs. Hartland rang the bell, and ordering the tea things to be taken away, desired her young companion to wait her return; and quitting the room, left Zorilda in new perplexity at what was next to happen.
Mrs. Hartland re-appeared in a few minutes, bringing an ink-stand and paper in her hand. Shutting the door, and laying these upon a table, she ordered Zorilda, in a stern voice, to sit down opposite to her, with which the latter having complied, she proceeded to unfold her object.
"It is no longer possible," said Mrs. Hartland, "to be silent. The time is come when it is necessary to explain my views, and come to an open understanding with you. Your attachment to my son cannot be mistaken, and I must tell you plainly, that it highly displeases Mr. Hartland and me. You should recollect our relative positions: you, an unknown orphan, discovered, accidentally, in a gipsey camp, without name, family, or pretensions; redeemed from the infamy of associating with a lawless horde by the charity which brought you here, are finely repaying the protectors of your childhood! Can you suppose, for a moment, that because you were permitted during infancy to be the companion of my son, and allowed, in after life to share the instructions which were bestowed on him by Mr. Playfair; can you, I repeat, imagine for a single instant that you were ever designed to be his wife? Do you think that a pretty face is sufficient qualification for the future Countess of Marchdale, or that Lord Hautonville's parents would ever look upon him again, were the wiles of an artful girl to betray his honourable mind into a remembrance of the boyish vows which children make to each other before they comprehend the nature of a promise? There is only one act by which you can ease my mind, and restore yourself to that place in my regards from which, I confess with regret, that you have fallen. Here are paper, pen, and ink; I have never found you untrue, and shall depend with confidence upon your written assurance, regularly signed, for my full satisfaction, that from this moment, you not only renounce all pretension to an alliance with my family; but should a romantic spirit of chivalry induce Algernon to forget what he owes to himself, and his father and mother, by offering his hand to you, that you here pledge yourself solemnly to repel such proposals, and reject every advance on the part of one whose death would be preferable, in my eyes to a marriage inconsistent with his rank in society. I have now spoken without reserve. You know my feelings, and if you are disposed to gratify me by the sacrifice which I require, there is nothing which I will leave undone to forward your interests. I will prevail on my son to settle something handsome upon you. I will write to my friends, and obtain some situation for you as soon as possible, in which your talents may secure your future independence; or it may be, that when you are seen and known out of this deep retirement, some suitable match may present itself, and——"