CHAPTER V.

Yet once more, O ye laurels! and once more, Ye myrtles !”—LyYcIpDas.
‘WHILE Maltravers was yet agitated and excited by the _ disclosures of the curate, to whom, as a matter of course, he - had divulged his own identity with the mysterious Butler, _ Aubrey, turning his eyes to the casement, saw the form of Lady Vargrave slowly approaching towards the house.
3 “Will you withdraw to the inner room?” said he; “she is coming; you are not yet prepared to meet her !—nay, would it be well?”
“Yes, yes—I am prepared—we must be alone. I will await a her here.”
“But—”
“Nay, I implore you!”
The curate, without another word, retired into the inner 5 apartment, and Maltravers sinking in a chair, breathlessly awaited the entrance of Lady Vargrave. He soon heard the light step without ; the door, which opened at once on the old- fashioned parlour, was gently unclosed, and Lady Vargrave was in the room! In the position he had taken, only the outline of Ernest’s form was seen by Alice, and the daylight came dim through the cottage casement: and, seeing some one seated in _ the curate’s accustomed chair, she could but believe that it was Aubrey himself.
“Do not let me interrupt you,’ whose music had been dumb for so many years to Maltravers— “but I have a letter from France, from a stranger—it alarms me so—it is about Evelyn,”—and, as if to imply that she medi- tated a longer visit than ordinary, Lady Vargrave removed her
bonnet, and placed it on the table. Surprised that the curate ©
had not answered, had not come forward to welcome her, she
then approached: Maltravers rose, and they stood before eacti
other face to face. And how lovely still was Alice! lovelier he thought even than of old! And those eyes, so divinely blue, sa dovelike and soft, yet with some spiritual and unfathomable
mystery in their clear depth, were once more fixed upon him. ~
Alice seemed turned to stone; she moved not—she spoke not—
she scarcely breathed ; she gazed spellbound, as if her senses— —
as if life itself—had deserted her. “ Alice !” murmured Maltravers,—* Alice, we meet at last!” His voice restored memory, consciousness, youth, at once to her! She uttered a loud cry of unspeakable joy, of rapture! She sprang forward—reserve, fear, time, change, all forgotten— she threw herself into his arms, she clasped him to her heart
again and again!—the faithful dog that has found its master —
expresses not his transport more uncontrollably, more wildly. It was something fearful—the excess of her ecstasy !—she kissed his hands, his clothes; she laughed, she wept: and at last, as words came, she laid her head on his breast, and said passion- ately,—‘“ I have been true to thee! I have been true to thee—or this hour would have killed me!” Then, as if alarmed by his silence, she looked up into his face, and, as his burning tears fell upon her cheek, she said again and with more hurried vehemence —“T have been faithful—do you not believe me?”
“I do-—I do, noble, unequalled Alice! Why, why were you so long lost to me? Why now does your love so shame my own?”
At these words, Alice appeared to awaken from her first oblivion of all that had chanced since they met: she blushed deeply, and drew herself gently and bashfully from his embrace. “Ah!” she said, in altered and humbled accents, “you have
loved another! Perhaps you have no love left for me! Is it
ite
said that sweet, low voice, —
€ i“ ‘ ° . 7 ‘ 5 PNR ET ee NE Lie Ty NW eke eRe Ay er em ie BOI ore
is it? No, still!” | = And again she clung to him, as if it were heaven to believe all things, and death to doubt. Then, after a pause, she drew him gently with both her hands towards the light, and gazed upon him fondly, proudly, as if to trace, line by line, and feature by feature, the countenance which had been to her sweet thoughts as a the sunlight to the flowers :—“ Changed, changed,” she muttered; | “but still the same,—still beautiful, still divine!” She stopped: a sudden thought struck her: his garments were worn and soiled _ by travel, and that princely crest, fallen and dejected, no longer towered in proud defiance above the sons of men. “You are not rich,” she exclaimed eagerly,—“ say you are not rich! I am ‘rich enough for both ; itis all yours—all yours—I did not betray you for it; there is no shame init. Ob, we shall be so happy ! - Thou art come back to thy poor Alice! thou knowest how she loved thee!” : - There was in Alice’s manner, her wild joy, something so different from her ordinary self, that none who could have seen ~ her—quiet, pensive, subdued—would have fancied her the same
being. All that Society and its woes had taught were gone;
=
no ;—those eyes—you love me—you love ©
4 and Nature once more claimed her fairest child. The very years seemed to have’ fallen from her brow, and she looked scarcely older than when she had stood with him beneath the moonlight by the violet banks far away. Suddenly, her colour faded; the smile passed from the dimpled lips; a sad and solemn aspect - succeeded to that expression of passionate joy—*“ Come,” she - said, in a whisper, “come, follow ;” and, still clasping his hand, she drew him to the door. Silent and wonderingly he followed E her across the lawn, through the moss-giown gate, and into the Jonely burial-ground. She moved on with a noiseless and gliding _ step—so pale, so hushed, so breathless, that, even in the noon- _ day, you might have half fancied the fair shape was not owned by earth. She paused where the yew-tree cast its gloomy shadow ; and the small and tombless mound, separated from the rest, was before them. She pointed to it, and falling on her knees beside _ it, murmured—“ Hush, it sleeps below—thy child!” Shecovered
her face with both her hands, and her form shook convulsively. ee
BE oo we . ae Se BB2
ALICE; OR, THE MYSTERIES,
Beside that form, and before that grave, knelt Maltravers. There vanished the last remnant of his stoic pride; and there—
Evelyn herself forgotten—there did he pray to Heaven for _ pardon to himself, and blessings on the heart he had betrayed.
There solemnly did he vow, the remainder of his years, to guard © :
from all future ill the faithful and childless mother.