“My heavy heart The prophetess of woe, foretells some ill
At hand.”
Lord Cherbury hastened to support and calm her agitation, by assuring her Lord Mortimer was in perfect safety. Recovering a little by this assertion, she asked him “how he was assured of this?” He answered, “because he had seen him, though without being perceived by him, about an hour ago.” Amanda, restored to her faculties by being assured he was uninjured, began to reflect on the suddenness of Lord Cherbury’s visit. She would have flattered herself he came to introduce her to his family himself, had not his looks almost forbid such an idea. They were gloomy and disordered; his eyes were fastened on her, yet he appeared unwilling to speak.
Amanda felt herself in too awkward and embarrassing a situation to break the unpleasant silence. At last Lord Cherbury suddenly exclaimed, “Lord Mortimer does not, nor must not, know of my being here.” “Must not!” repeated Amanda, in inconceivable astonishment.
“Gracious Heaven!” said Lord Cherbury, starting from the chair on which he had thrown himself opposite her, “how shall I begin, how shall I tell her! Oh! Miss Fitzalan,” he continued, approaching her, “I have much to say, and you have much to hear which will shock you. I believed I could better in an interview have informed you of particulars, but I find I[Pg 370] was mistaken. I will write to you.” “My lord,” cried Amanda, rising, all pale and trembling, “tell me now; to leave me in suspense, after receiving such dreadful hints, would be cruelty. Oh! surely, if Lord Mortimer be safe—if Lady Martha Dormer—if Lady Araminta is well—I can have nothing so very shocking to hear.” “Alas!” replied he, mournfully shaking his head, “you are mistaken. Be satisfied, however, that the friends you have mentioned are all well. I have said I would write to you. Can you meet me this evening amongst the ruins?” Amanda gave an assenting bow. “I shall then,” pursued he, “have a letter ready to deliver you. In the mean time, I must inform you no person in the world knows of my visit here but yourself, and of all beings Lord Mortimer is the last I should wish to know it. Remember, then, Miss Fitzalan,” taking her hand, which he grasped with violence, as if to impress his words upon her heart, “remember that upon your secrecy everything most estimable in life, even life itself, perhaps, depends.”
With these dreadful and mysterious words he departed, leaving Amanda a picture of horror and surprise. It was many minutes ere she moved from the attitude in which he left her, and when she did, it was only to walk in a disordered manner about the room, repeating his dreadful words. He was come, perhaps, to part her and Lord Mortimer, and yet, after consenting to their union, surely Lord Cherbury could not be guilty of such treachery and deceit. Yet, if this was not the case, why conceal his coming to Ireland from Lord Mortimer? Why let it be known only to her? And what could be the secrets of dreadful import he had to communicate?
From these self-interrogations, in which her reason was almost bewildered, the entrance of the prioress drew her.
She started at seeing the pale and distracted looks of Amanda, and asked, “if she had heard any bad tidings of Lord Mortimer?”
Amanda sighed heavily at this question, and said, “No.” The secrecy she had been enjoined to she durst not violate, by mentioning the mysterious visit to her friend. Unable, however, to converse on any other subject, she resolved to retire to her chamber. She placed her illness and agitation to the account of Lord Mortimer, and said a little rest was absolutely necessary for her, and begged, if his lordship came in the course of the evening, he might be told she was too ill to see him.
The prioress pressed her to stay for tea. She refused, and,[Pg 371] as she retired from the room, desired nothing might be said of the person who had just seen her to Lord Mortimer, saying, with a faint smile, “she would not make him vain by letting him know of her anxiety about him.” She retired to her chamber, and endeavored to control her perturbations, that she might be the better enabled to support what she had so much reason to apprehend. Neither the prioress nor the nuns, in obedience to her injunctions, intruded upon her, and at the appointed hour she softly opened the chamber door, and, every place being clear, stole softly from the convent.
She found Lord Cherbury waiting for her amidst the solitary ruins. He had a letter in his hand, which he presented to her the moment she appeared.
“In this letter, Miss Fitzalan,” said he, “I have opened to you my whole heart. I have disburdened it of secrets which have long oppressed it. I have intrusted my honor to your care. From what I have said, that its contents are of a sacred nature, you may believe, should they be considered in any other light by you, the consequence may, nay, must be fatal.” He said this with a sternness that made Amanda shrink. “Meditate well on the contents of that letter, Miss Fitzalan,” continued he, with a voice of deep solemnity, “for it is a letter which will fix your destiny and mine. Even should the request contained in it be refused, let me be the first acquainted with the refusal. Then indeed I shall urge you no more to secrecy, for what will follow, in consequence of such a refusal, must divulge all.” “Oh! tell me, tell me,” said Amanda, catching hold of his arm, “tell me what is the request or what it is I am to fear. Oh! tell me all at once, and rid me of the torturing suspense I endure.” “I cannot,” he cried, “indeed, I cannot. To-morrow night I shall expect your answer here at the same hour.”
At this moment Lord Mortimer’s voice calling upon Amanda was heard. Lord Cherbury dropped her hand, which he had taken, and instantly retired amongst the windings of the pile, from whence Lord Mortimer soon appeared, giving Amanda only time to hide the fatal letter.
“Good Heavens!” exclaimed he, “what could have brought you hither, and who was the person who just departed from you?” It was well for Amanda that the twilight gave but an imperfect view of her face. She felt her color come and go; a cold dew overspread her forehead; she leaned against a rude fragment o............