Ernest Maltravers, Book 8

uat i

udor, mixtoque

s amor, et consci

nse shame, and madness with commingled grief,

, which, like that of most persons whose temper is not under their command, ever too faithfully expressed what was within,

d embarrassed pause, she recovered, however, her self-possession, and with all a woman's delicate and dexterous t

ake advantage of those gifts of nature and fortune, and fulfil such a career as," a

ountry that has no longer any charms for me. I thank you for your kindness; I will obey you. May you

illusion. Mr. Ferrers allowed me to see the letter you wrote to Er--to Mr. Maltravers; it wa

"did Ferrers communicate to

ind

glad o

hy

. Heaven bless

that letter that it could pain me to see? Lumley hi

ery to Maltravers, cruelty to

kindness and mercy; show me t

ould hate me for the pain it

would darkly slander him whom you cannot openl

ndeceiving you. Here is the letter, it is his

but the evidence of my

k not I fear his anger. No! but in the mortal encounter that must ensue, if you thus betray me, your character would be lowered in the world's eyes, and even I (my e

do most s

not ask to keep the letter, but w

se it. N

the le

t night; it avowed dislike of her character; it denied the sincerity of her love; it more than hinted the mercenary nature of his own feelings. Yes, even there, where she had garnered up her heart, she was not Florence, the lovely and beloved woman; but Florence, the

ak to me, speak to me, Florence! I did wrong; for

human character, that he would be sponsor for your faith-, that your honour and hear

Florence, pressing her hands to her temples, walked wildly to and fro the room. At length she paused opposi

, trembling with repentant emotion, yet half beside

e pride in me than even affection; but there are certain struggles in a woman's breast which she could neve

ped on his knee, kissed it convulsively, and, fearfu

is horse, he looked up at the window, and kissed his hand at Lady Florence, who stood there watching his a

im. He approached and took her ha

not well,

for I have

ean? why do yo

him, eyes that literally blaze

riches-why made a thing of barter and merchandise, and avarice, and low ambition? Take my wealth, take it, Mr. Maltravers, since that is what you prize

hear aright? Who ha

at I am convinced that our union can be happy to neither: quest

d grave solemnity; "another word, and

me no longer. I was your slave while I loved you: the tie is broken. I am free, and I hate and scorn you! Mercenary and sordid as you are, your baseness of

rom the eyes of the proud Maltravers, as if by witchcraft: the angel seemed transformed into th

dishonour. I bid you farewell for ever; and with my last words I condemn you to the darkest of all dooms-the remorse that comes too late!" Slowly he moved away; and as the door closed upon that towering and