The Mysteries of Paris, Volume 6 of 6

"True, there is no hurry; but send for the prince, I entreat of you."

"Sister, I know not why, but your manner alarms me, and there is a strangeness in your very looks as well as words!"

And Seyton spoke truly. The very absence of all emotion in Sarah inspired him with a vague and indefinable uneasiness; he even fancied he saw her eyes filled with tears she hastily repressed. But unable to account for his own suspicions, he at once quitted the chamber.

"Now, then," said Sarah, "if I may but see and embrace my daughter, I shall be satisfied. I fear there will be considerable difficulty in obtaining that happiness; Rodolph will refuse me, as a punishment for the past. But I must and will accomplish my longing desire! Oh, yes! I cannot – will not be denied! But the prince comes!"

Rodolph entered, and carefully closed the door after him. Addressing Sarah in a cold, constrained manner, he said:

"I presume your brother has told you all?"

"He has!"

"And your ambition is satisfied."

"Quite – quite satisfied?"

"Every needful preparation for our marriage has been made; the minister and attesting witnesses are in the next room."

"I know it."

"They may enter, may they not, madame?"

"One word, my lord. I wish to see my daughter."

"That is impossible!"

"I repeat, my lord, that I earnestly desire to see my child."

"She is but just recovering from a severe illness, and she has undergone one violent shock to-day; the interview you ask might be fatal to her."

"Nay, my lord, she may be permitted to embrace her mother without danger to herself."

"Why should she run the risk? You are now a sovereign princess!"

"Not yet, my lord; nor do I intend to be until I have embraced my daughter!"

Rodolph gazed on the countess with unfeigned astonishment.

"Is it possible," cried he, "that you can bring yourself to defer the gratification of your pride and ambition?"

"Till I have indulged the greater gratification of a mother's feelings. Does that surprise you, my lord?"

"It does indeed!"

"And shall I see my daughter?"

"I repeat – "

"Have a care, my lord, – the moments are precious, – mine are possibly numbered! As my brother said, the present trial may kill or cure me. I am now struggling, with all my power, with all the energy I possess, against the exhaustion occasioned by the discovery just made to me. I demand to see my daughter, or otherwise I refuse the hand you offer me, and, if I die before the performance of the marriage ceremony, her birth can never be legitimised!"

"But Fleur-de-Marie is not here; I must send for her."

"Then do so instantly, and I consent to everything you may propose; and as, I repeat, my minutes are probably numbered, the marriage can take place while they are conducting my child hither."

"Although 'tis a matter of surprise to hear such sentiments from you, yet they are too praiseworthy to be treated with indifference. You shall see Fleur-de-Marie; I will write to her to come directly."

"Write there – on that desk – where I received my death-blow!"

While Rodolph hastily penned a few lines, the countess wiped from her brows the cold damps that had gathered there, while her hitherto calm and unmovable features were contracted by a sudden spasmodic agony, which had increased in violence from having been so long concealed. The letter finished, Rodolph arose and said to the countess:

"I will despatch this letter by one of my aides-de-camp; she will be here in half an hour from the time my messenger departs. Shall I, upon my return to you, bring the clergyman and persons chosen to witness our marriage, that we may at once proceed?"

"You may, – but no, let me beg of you to ring the bell; do not leave me by myself; let Sir Walter despatch the letter, and then return with the clergyman."

Rodolph rang; one of Sarah's attendants answered the summons.

"Request my brother to send Sir Walter Murphy here," said the countess, in a faint voice. The woman went to perform her mistress's bidding. "This marriage is a melancholy affair, Rodolph," said the countess, bitterly, "I mean as far as I am concerned; to you it will be productive of happiness." The prince started at the idea. "Nay, be not astonished at my prophesying happiness to you from such a union; but I shall not live to mar your joys."

At this moment Murphy entered.

"My good friend," said the prince, "send this letter off to my daughter. Colonel – will be the bearer of it, and he can bring her back in my carriage; then desire the minister and all concerned in witnessing the marriage ceremony to assemble in the adjoining room."

"God of mercy!" cried Sarah, fervently clasping her hands as the squire disappeared, "grant me strength to fold my child to my heart! Let me not die ere she arrives!"

"Alas! why were you not always the tender mother you now are?"

"Thanks to you, at least, for awakening in me a sincere repentance for the past, and a hearty desire to devote myself to the good of those whose happiness I have so fearfully disturbed! Yes, when my brother told me, a short time since, of our child's preservation, – let me say our child, it will not be for long I shall require your indulgence, – I felt all the agony of knowing myself irrecoverably ill, yet overjoyed to think that the birth of our child would be legitimised; that done, I shall die happy!"

"Do not talk thus."

"You will see I shall not deceive you again; my death is certain."

"And you will die without one particle of that insatiate ambition which has been your return! By what fatality has your repentance been delayed till now?"

"Though tardy, it is sincere; and I call Heaven to witness that, at this awful moment, I bless God for removing me from this world, and that I am spared the additional misery of living, as I am aware I should have been a weight and burden to you, as well as a bar to your happiness elsewhere. But can you pardon me? For mercy's sake, say you do! Do not delay to speak forgiveness and peace to my troubled spirit until the arrival of my child, for in her presence you would not choose to pronounce the pardon of her guilty mother. It would be to tell her a tale I would fain she never knew. You will not refuse me the hope that, when I am gone, my memory may be dear to her?"

"Tranquillise yourself, she shall know nothing of the past."

"Rodolph, do you too say I am forgiven! Oh, forgive me – forgive me! Can you not pity a creature brought low as I am? Alas, my sufferings might well move your heart to pity and to pardon!"

"I do forgive you from my innermost soul!" said the prince, deeply affected.

The scene was most heartrending. Rodolph opened the folding-doors, and beckoned in the clergyman with the company assembled there, that is to say, Murphy and Baron de Graün as witnesses on the part of Rodolph, and the Duc de Lucenay and Lord Douglas on the part of the countess; Thomas Seyton followed close behind. All were impressed with the awful solemnity of the melancholy transaction, and even M. de Lucenay seemed to have lost his usual petulance and folly.

The contract of marriage between the most high and powerful Prince Gustave Rodolph, fifth reigning Duke of Gerolstein, and Sarah Seyton of Halsburg, Countess Macgregor, which legitimised the birth of Fleur-de-Marie, had been previously drawn up by Baron de Graün, and, being read by him, was signed by the parties mentioned therein, as well as duly attested by the signature of their witnesses.

Spite of the countess's repentance, when the clergyman, in a deep solemn voice, inquired of Rodolph whether his royal highness was willing to take Sarah Seyton of Halsburg, Countess Macgregor, for his wife, and the prince had replied in a firm, distinct voice, "I will," the dying eyes of Sarah shone with unearthly brilliancy, an expression of haughty triumph passed over her livid features, – the last flash of expiring ambition.