CHAPTER IX. Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud, "HE cares for me no longer," thought Eleanor, "not that I would wish him again to suffer on my account. But yet if I knew that he had quite forgiven me--that he did not entirely despise me-" It is ever the case, every other burden seems more easy to bear than the one laid upon us, and in spite of her feeling but too keenly how much the assurance for which she pined would add to her present perplexity and trouble, she felt a sort of resentment against her old lover for what she considered to be his coldness and indifference. Charles Stafford, in the meanwhile, amid the tumult of conflicting thoughts, came to the conclusion that things could not go on for many days longer without an explanation between himself and his hostess; if that heart might yet be won, he would value it even more than he had done at first, he would devote his life to her happiness, his tender care should smooth her pathway, and chase away those dark clouds which appeared to envelope it at present; but if not, if all that bright dream must vanish from his life for ever, better for both that it should come to an end at once; and in spite of Maude's warnings, in spite of his half promise to her, he could not resist the impulse to follow Lady Thornbury, as he saw her in the garden gathering a few late autumn roses, which the frost had spared. "It is cold, Mr. Stafford," said Eleanor, drawing her shawl closer round her, with a slight shiver, as he drew near, and held out his hand to relieve her of the basket of flowers. "I cannot trust the gardener to gather these few treasures, they are so precious at this time of the year; just suppose he should gather a bud! what punishment could be too great for him?” "Will you give me one of your treasures, Lady Thornbury, in memory of-auld lang syne. Eleanor! Eleanor! give me one of those bright late roses to replace the withered violets-you remember them? Ah, I see you do! those you gave me in the Ashwell meadows." He took the rose she held, from her trembling fingers, as he spoke; but as he did so the rosy petals fell to the ground, and Lady Thornbury burst into an agony of weeping; her excited feelings gave to the fallen flower the importance of an omen; it was the one strain too much, and destroyed for the mo ment all her powers of self-restraint, which had been so heavily taxed lately. "It is all that remains for me," she sobbed, "the desolate heart-the sharp thorns." "Not so, Eleanor, I trust," said Stafford, in a colder tone; for he attributed her sudden burst of sorrow to some remembrance of Lord Thornbury. "Time, the universal restorer, will yet bring brighter days for you; but forgive me, it was wrong to intrude thus upon your sorrows; only I would ask you to remember, in the name of our old friendship, that if ever a time should come when a true friend might hope to remove one of those thorns-soften one of those sorrows-it would be my greatest happiness." The difference of tone did not escape Eleanor, and it struck a chill to her heart. "We were talking of old times," she said. "One thing I must ask-it would be a comfort to me even now, to hear from your own lips that I am forgiven-tell me, only tell me that you forgive the broken promise, the fickleness. O, Charles, you have been bitterly avenged !" Eleanor was like one walking blind-fold towards a precipice; she knew the answer that must come, yet she could not deny herself the happiness of finding that she was still dear to him, even though she should the next moment have to bid him farewell for ever. "You could never have doubted of my forgiveness," he said, still with the same calm coldness in his tone, for he had had time to remember Maude's warnings, and feared to lose a precious chance by speaking more openly, at a moment when he could scarcely doubt that something had occurred to renew her grief for Lord Thornbury's loss. “You were too bright and dazzling as well as too young, to have been allowed ever to pledge yourself to a vagabond barrister, just starting off for the ends of the earth. It is I who have a hard matter to forgive myself, for taking advantage of your youth and inexperience." |