"I would give my life for you," replied her friend, "and so would—" but, suddenly pausing, Zorilda entreated her to leave the apartment. "My time is short," added she, "and I must set all things in order for my departure. You shall have my narrative to-night, for I am resolved to go to-morrow; read it to your family, and return it to me before you retire to rest. I will avoid seeing Sir Godfrey and Lady Cecil again; my presence can only distress them; but my gratitude will only end with life, and memory, my Clara, will not be exercised in far distant retrospects. My days will be few, and sorrowful: I feel it here (as she laid her hand upon her heart), and Zorilda will soon have passed away like an evening shadow."
A fond embrace was all the comfort which Clara could impart, and she withdrew with feelings of wonder, sympathy, and admiration, too big for expression.
Rachel received orders to prepare for the journey, and never felt less inclined to obey than upon this occasion. She could have spent the remnant of her days well pleased in the luxurious ease of De Lacy castle, and had been long indulging a secret hope that two people, so formed for each other as its young Lord and her gentle mistress, should one day conclude the romance which brought them together in the usual way, by a happy union. Rachel loved a novel, next to her tea, better than any earthly solace, and had found rich stores of literary food, as well as Congo, at the castle; but in all her reading she had never stumbled upon a single instance in which faithful love was not rewarded. Now, that Lionel loved Zorilda was her firm persuasion, not only because Rachel could not imagine any one secure against the attractions of her mistress, but she had too much sagacity, not to interpret the thousand kind attentions which she received herself from Mr. Cecil, as well as the pleasure which he seemed to feel in talking of Zorilda's improved health and appearance.
But Rachel buried these happy thoughts in her own breast, as, though Zorilda's manners were of dove-like softness, there was a native dignity in her demeanour which repelled all attempt at vulgar familiarity; and Rachel had sufficient tact to know exactly how far she might go, and where it was prudent to stop. She had never ventured therefore upon the slightest allusion to her hopes, and now set about the performance of her task with silent reluctance, while Zorilda endeavoured to compose her thoughts, and throw together a few brief outlines of her story, from the time of her removal from the gipsey camp to Henbury, by way of supplement to the narrative communicated to her by Mr. Playfair.
Nothing was suppressed in her artless and affecting sketch, except the attachment between her and Algernon. This was a sacred theme. She alleged no motives, therefore, for Lady Marchdale's changed regards, and only stated, that having been conscious of altered feelings towards her, she could no longer endure to be a burthen on the kindness of her former friends, and had consequently resolved on sparing them all farther solicitude on her account, though circumstances of a peculiar nature prevented her from revealing her intentions, or informing her late benefactors of her retreat, till her future way of life should have assumed some fixed shape and character.
On leaving Zorilda, Clara had quitted the house to indulge in a solitary ramble the grief with which she felt oppressed as she contemplated the approaching separation from one who had become so dear to her, and whom she was forced into the painful belief was likely to prove a source of misery to her brother. "Alas!" said she, soliloquizing as she wandered onwards, "he loves her, and the more devotedly, because his generous soul disdained to acknowledge danger while honour imposed silence on his wishes. He will be silent still, but he will be unhappy."
While Clara pondered these melancholy forebodings, Lionel was seeking for her, and at length overtook his sister, pale and breathless, with a newspaper in his hand.
"Here, Clara," said he, "is something strange. It struck my father, who brought it just now to me. I felt little appetite for news, but feared to offend, if I refused to look at what excited his curiosity, and my attention was soon arrested. I am certain that I know all the actors in this horrible catastrophe, and that it is interwoven with Zorilda's fate."
Clara snatched the paper, and read aloud the following paragraph:
"For obvious reasons of a delicate nature, we forbear from alluding openly to the noble individuals who are involved in the tragical circumstances at which we glanced in a former number. Subsequent information, we regret to say, from an authentic source, leaves no doubt as to the painful fact, that a young nobleman, Lord H., whose family has been recently exalted by succession to the peerage, has shot a nobleman, with whom not long since he was considered as being closely lié, and who now lies dangerously ill at Brussels. The cause of this lamentable occurrence continues to be wrapped in the profoundest mystery, but immediately after the dreadful act, the unhappy perpetrator made a voluntary surrender of himself to the civil authorities, to abide his trial; and it is rumoured, that his noble parents, of whom he is the only child, have set out for the Netherlands, plunged in the severest affliction. As a little time must fully develop this dark transaction, we shall abstain from any comment upon it, under present circumstances."