317 "Daughter, I guess your meaning," said Mrs. Mowbray, sternly. "You would relinquish your claims in favour of Lady Rookwood. Is it not so?" "Since you oblige me to answer you, mother," said Eleanor, crimsoning, "I must admit that you have guessed my meaning. To Lady Rookwood, as to yourself, I would be a daughter as far as is consistent with my duty," added she, blushing still more deeply, "but my first consideration shall be my husband. And if But pray question me not Lady Rookwood can be contentfurther-accompany me to her chamber." "Eleanor," interposed Ranulph, "dearest Eleanor, the sacrifice you would make is unnecessary-uncalled for. You do not know my mother. She would not, I grieve to say, appreciate the generosity of your motives. She would not give you credit for your feelings. She would only resent your visit as an intrusion." "My daughter comprehends you, sir," said Mrs. Mowbray, haughtily. "I will take care that, in her own house, Miss Mowbray shall remain free from insult." 66 Mother, dear mother," said Eleanor, "do not wilfully misunderstand him." "You can be little aware, madam," said Ranulph, calmly, yet sadly, "how much I have recently endured-how much of parental anger-how much of parental malediction I have incurred, to save you and your daughter from the indignity you apprehend. As I before said, you do not know my mother; nor could it enter into any well-regulated imagination to conceive the extremities to which the violence of her passion will, when her schemes are thwarted, hurry her. The terms upon which you met together will not escape your recollection; nor shall I need to recal to your mind her haughtiness, her coldness. That coldness has since ripened into distrust; and the match which she was at first all anxiety to promote, she would now utterly set aside, were Whence this alteration in her views has it in her power to do so. arisen, I have no means of ascertaining; it is not my mother's custom to give a reason for her actions, or her wishes: it is allsufficient to express them. I have perceived, as the time has drawn nigh for the fulfilment of my dearest hopes, that her unwillingness has increased; until to-day what had hitherto been confined to hints has been openly expressed, and absolute objections raised. Such, however, is the peculiarity of her temper, that I trusted, even at the eleventh hour, I should be able to work a change. Alas! our last meeting was decisive. She commanded me to break off the match. At once, and peremptorily, I refused. Pardon me, madam, pardon me, dearest Eleanor, if I thus enter into particulars; it is absolutely necessary I should be explicit. Enraged at my opposition to her wishes, her fury became ungovernable. With appalling imprecations upon the memory of my poor father, and upon your father, madam, whose chief offence in her eyes was, it seems, the disposition of his property to Eleanor, she bade me be gone, and take her curses as my wedding portion. Beneath this roof-beneath her roof, she added-no marriage of mine should e'er take place. I might go hence, or might stay, as I thought fitting; but you and your daughter, whom she characterised as intruders, should not remain another hour within her house. To this wild raving I answered, with as much composure as I could command, that she entirely mistook her own position, and that, so far from the odium of intrusion resting with you, if applicable to any one, the term must necessarily affix itself on those who, through ignorance, had for years unjustly deprived the rightful owners of this place of their inheritance. Upon this her wrath was boundless. She disowned me as her son; disclaimed all maternal regard, and heaped upon my head a frightful malediction, at the recollection of which I still tremble. I will spare you further details of this dreadful scene. To me it is most distressing; for, however firmly resolved I may be to pursue a line of conduct, which every sound principle within me dictates as the correct one, yet I cannot be insensible to the awful responsibility I shall incur in bringing down a mother's curse upon my head, nor to the jeopardy in which her own excessive violence may place her." Mrs. Mowbray listened to Ranulph's explanation in haughty displeasure; Eleanor with throbbing, tearful interest; Doctor Small, with mixed feelings of anger and astonishment. "Lady Rookwood's conduct," said the doctor, "is-you must forgive me, my dear Sir Ranulph, for using strong expressions— outrageous beyond all precedent, and only excusable on the ground of insanity, to which I wish it were possible we could attribute it. There is, however, too much method in her madness to allow us to indulge any such notion; she is shrewd, dangerous, and designing; and, since she has resolved to oppose this match, she will leave no means untried to do so. I scarcely know how to advise you under the circumstances—that is, if my advice were asked.” "Which I scarcely think it likely to be, sir," said Mrs. Mowbray, coldly. "After what has occurred, I shall think it my duty to break off this alliance, which I have never considered to be so desirable that its rupture will occasion me an instant's uncasiness." "A plague on all these Rookwoods!" muttered Small. "One would think all the pride of the Prince of Darkness were centred in their bosoms. But, madam," continued the benevolent doctor, "have you no consideration for the feelings of your daughter, or for those of one who is no distant relation to you-your nephew? Your son, Major Mowbray, is, if I mistake not, most eager for this union to take place between his sister and his friend." "My children have been accustomed to yield implicit obedience to my wishes," said Mrs. Mowbray; "and Major Mowbray, I am sure, will see the propriety of the step I am about to take. I am content, at least, to abide by his opinion.' 99 "Snubbed again!" mentally ejaculated the doctor, with a shrug of despair. "It is useless attempting to work upon such impracticable material." Ranulph remained mute, in an attitude of profound melancholy. An eloquent interchange of glances had passed between him and Eleanor, communicating to each the anxious state of the other's feelings. At this crisis the door was suddenly opened, and old Agnes, Lady Rookwood's aged attendant, rushed into the room, and sank upon her knees on the floor, her limbs shaking, her teeth chattering, and every feature expressive of intense terror. Ranulph went instantly towards her to demand the cause of her alarm. "No, let me pray," cried Agnes, as he took her hand in the attempt to raise her; "let me pray while there is yet time-let the worthy doctor pray beside mc. Pray for an overladen soul, sir; pray heartily, as you would hope for mercy yourself. Ah! little know the righteous of the terrors of those that are beyond the pale of mercy. The Lord pardon me my iniquities, and ab solve her." "Whom do you mean?" asked Ranulph, in agitation. "You do not allude to my mother?" "You have no longer a mother, young man," said Agnes, solemnly. "What!" exclaimed Ranulph, terror-stricken; "is she dead?” "She is gone." "Gone! How? Whither?" exclaimed all, their amazement increasing each instant at the terror of the old woman, and the apparently terrible occasion of it. "Speak!" exclaimed Ranulph; "but why do I loiter? my mother, perchance, is dying-let me go." The old woman maintained her clutching grasp, which was strong and convulsive as that of one struggling betwixt life and death. "It's of no use, I tell you; it's all over," said she-" the dead are come-the dead are come-and she is gone." "Whither?-whither?" "To the grave-to the tomb," said Agnes, in a deep and hollow tone, and with a look that froze Ranulph's soul. "Listen to me, Ranulph Rookwood, my child, my nursling-listen while I can speak. We were alone, your mother and I, after that scene between you; after the dark denunciations she had heaped upon the dead, when I heard a low and gasping kind of sob, and there I saw your mother staring wildly upon the vacancy, as if she saw that of which I dare not think." "What think you she beheld?" asked Ranulph, quaking with apprehension. "That which had been your father," returned Agnes, in a hollow tone. "Don't doubt me, sir-you'll find the truth of what I say anon. I am sure he was there. There was a thrilling, speechless horror in the very sight of her countenance that froze my old blood to ice-to the ice in which 'tis now-ough! ough! Well, at length she arose, with her eyes still fixed, and passed through the paneled door without a word. She is gone!" "What madness is this?" cried Ranulph. "Let me go, woman 'tis that ruffian in disguise-she may be murdered." “No, no,” shrieked Agnes; "it was no disguise. She is gone, I tell you-the room was empty, all the rooms were empty-the passage was void-through the door they went together-silently, silently-ghostlike, slow. Ha! that tomb-they are there together now he has her in his arms-sec, they are here they glide through the door-do you not see them now? Did I not speak the truth? She is dead-ha, ha!" And with a frantic and bewildering laugh the old woman fell upon her face. Ranulph raised her from the floor; but the shock of what she had beheld had been too much for her. She was dead! CHAPTER IV. THE DOWER OF SYBIL. Card. Now art thou come? Thou look'st ghastly; Mixed with some fear. Bos. Thus it lightens into action: I am come to kill thee. Duchess of Malfg. RANULPH ROOKWOOD was for some moments so much stunned by the ghastly fate of Agnes, connected, as it appeared to be, with a supernatural summons similar to that which he imagined he had himself received, that he was incapable of stirring from the spot, or removing his gaze from the rigid features of the corpse, which, even in death, wore the strong impress of horror and despair. Through life he knew that Agnes, his own nurse, had been his mother's constant and faithful attendant; the unhesitating agent of her schemes, and it was to be feared, from the remorse she had exhibited, the participator of her crimes; and Ranulph felt, he knew not why, that in having witnessed her terrible end, he beheld the ultimate condition of his own parent. Conquering, not without great effort, the horror which had riveted him to the spot, he turned to look towards Eleancr She had sunk upon a chair, a silent witness of the scene, Mrs. Mowbray and Doctor Small having, upon the first alarm given by Agnes respecting Lady Rookwood's departure from the house, quitted the room to ascertain the truth of her statement. Ranulph immediately flew to Eleanor. "Ranulph," said she, though almost overcome by her alarm, "stay not an instant here with me. I am sure, from that poor woman's dreadful death, that something terrible has occurred, perhaps to Lady Rookwood. Go to her chamber. Tarry not, I cntreat of you.” "But will you, can you remain here alone with that body?" asked Ranulph. 66 “I shall not be alone. Handassah is within call-nay, she is here. Oh, what an eve of our espousals has this been, dear Ranulph. Our whole life is a troubled volume, of which each successive leaf grows darker. Fate is opposed to us. It is useless to contend with our destiny. I fear we shall never be united." "Dismiss me not with words like those, dear Eleanor," returned Ranulph. "Fate cannot have greater woes in store for us than those by which we are now oppressed. Let us hope that we are now at that point whence all must brighten. Once possessed of you, assured of thus much happiness, I would set even fate at defiance. And you will be mine to-morrow." "Ranulph, dear Ranulph, your suit at this moment is desperate. I dare not, cannot pledge myself. You yourself heard, even now, my mother's sentiments, and I cannot marry without her consent." "Your mother, like my own, regards not the feelings of her children. Forgive my boldness, Eleanor; forgive me if I linger now, when duty calls me hence; but I cannot tear myself away. Your mother may return-my hopes be crushed; for even your love for me seems annihilated in her presence." "Ranulph, your vehemence terrifies me," rejoined Eleanor. "I implore you, by the tender affection which you know I bear you, not to urge me further at this moment. Recal Recal your firmer feelings, and obtain some mastery over yourself. I repeat, I am yours only, if I am bride of any one. But when our union can take place rests not with myself. And now, I entreat of you, leave me." "You are mine," said Ranulph, with fervour; "mine only." "Yours only," replied Eleanor. "Be this the earnest of my happiness!" exclaimed Ranulph, im printing a long and impassioned kiss upon her lips. The lovers were startled from their embrace by a profound sigh; it proceeded from Handassah, who, unbidden, had replaced the picture of the Lady Eleanor upon its frame. The augury seemed sinister. Every one who has gazed steadfastly upon a portrait must have noticed the peculiar and lifelike character which, under * certain aspects, the eyes will assume. Seen by the imperfect light upon the table, the whole character of the countenance of the Lady Eicanor seemed changed; the features appeared to be stamped Y |