Book: My Novel, Volume 10.

E >> Edward Bulwer Lytton >> My Novel, Volume 10.




"I never thought her capable of such acute feelings, such strong
attachment," whispered the count.

Frank heard, and his face was radiant. By degrees Madame di Negra
recovered composure, and she listened with what her young lover deemed a
tender interest, but what, in fact, was mournful and humbled resignation,
to his joyous talk of the future. To him the hours passed by, brief and
bright, like a flash of sunlight. And his dreams when he retired to rest
were so golden! But when he awoke the next morning, he said to himself,
"What--what will they say at the Hall?" At that same hour Beatrice,
burying her face on her pillow, turned from the loathsome day, and could
have prayed for death. At that same hour, Giulio Franzini, Count di
Peschiera, dismissing some gaunt, haggard Italians, with whom he had been
in close conference, sallied forth to reconnoitre the house that
contained Violante. At that same hour, Baron Levy was seated before his
desk, casting up a deadly array of figures, headed, "Account with the
Right Hon. Audley Egerton, M. P., Dr. and Cr."--title-deeds strewed
around him, and Frank Hazeldean's post-obit peeping out fresh from the
elder parchments. At that same hour, Audley Egerton had just concluded a
letter from the chairman of his committee in the city he represented,
which letter informed him that he had not a chance of being re-elected.
And the lines of his face were as composed is usual, and his foot rested
as firm on the grim iron box; but his hand was pressed to his heart, and
his eye was on the clock, and his voice muttered, "Dr. F--should be
here!" And that hour Harley L'Estrange, who the previous night had
charmed courtly crowds with his gay humour, was pacing to and fro the
room in his hotel with restless strides and many a heavy sigh; and
Leonard was standing by the fountain in his garden, and watching the
wintry sunbeams that sparkled athwart the spray; and Violante was leaning
on Helen's shoulder, and trying archly, yet innocently, to lead Helen to
talk of Leonard; and Helen was gazing steadfastly on the floor, and
answering but by monosyllables; and Randal Leslie was walking down to his
office for the last time, and reading, as he passed across the Green
Park, a letter from home, from his sister; and then, suddenly crumpling
the letter in his thin pale hand, he looked up, beheld in the distance
the spires of the great national Abbey; and recalling the words of our
hero Nelson, he muttered, "Victory and Westminster, but not the Abbey!"
And Randal Leslie felt that, within the last few days, he had made a vast
stride in his ambition,--his grasp on the old Leslie lands, Frank
Hazeldean betrothed, and possibly disinherited; and Dick Avenel, in the
background, opening against the hated Lansmere interest that same seat in
parliament which had first welcomed into public life Randal's ruined
patron.

"But some must laugh, and some must weep;
Thus runs the world away!"

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