The movement of the carriage, and the necessity of descending from it, having aroused Alfred from the first paralysing effects of his grief, he now paced his apartment rapidly, and continued to do so almost the whole of the night; too much absorbed by his miserable reflections, to be conscious of the bodily fatigue he was thus incurring. Yet it was impossible to be still! Was she indeed dead?—was the question, he again and again, asked himself. Then, with indescribable agony, he recalled the bewildered terror of those dear eyes during the single moment they had met his. How short was the period which had since elapsed; she was then in life—was it possible! could she be already gone for ever? A lingering feeling, in some sort allied to hope, though altogether irrational, still struggled with his despair. It is after waiting in vain, as it were, for a reprieve from fate, that sorrow for the dead seems gradually to reach its climax. It is not in the first hour of bereavement that we can comprehend our wretchedness; so difficult is it to believe, that in a few short moments, the great, the awful change, has taken place and eternity for a fellow-mortal, who trod the path of earth with us but now, commenced. Then would he view, with stern despair, the mysterious union, by which his own fate, the fate of poor Willoughby, and that of Caroline, seemed linked together in misery. "But she is now at rest," he would add, and after dwelling for a time on this idea, gentler emotions would arise; and he would strain his mental vision to behold the shadowy regions of that "bourn whence no traveller returns," as though tenderness thus sought for some locality in which to picture to itself the cherished image of the being beloved. Night passed away, and morning came, but its light brought with it the unsufferable thought, that even now the busy preparations of the living, to rid themselves of the dead, were in all probability being commenced!—Once more—yes, once more, he must behold her! And then he would think of his poor mother, and patiently await his own release. As he formed this resolve, he was crossing his apartment, to descend into the street and hasten back to the villa, when the door flew open and Lady Arden entered. "Alfred! my son," she exclaimed, "you are justified!" unable to articulate further, she wept passionately, but her tears flowed over a countenance radiant with joy. As the words, "you are justified," sounded in the ear of Alfred, relief from ignominy swelled his heart with a proud and worthy satisfaction, which, under any other circumstances, would have taken the lead even of his affections. But now, instead of eagerly inquiring what had occurred, he said, with solemn tenderness, while affectionately returning the maternal embrace, "I am not ungrateful to Heaven, or to you." Lady Arden gazed at the mournful expression of his countenance, and added anxiously, and somewhat doubtingly, "When time, my son, shall have passed a healing hand over the sorrow you feel for your poor brother, I shall see you, I trust, yourself again; and for my sake—and for the sake of others who love you, quite—quite—happy—at last. For this misery," she added, speaking slowly, and still watching in vain for the dawning of pleasurable feeling on his still and saddened features; "this misery has been all occasioned by the tyranny of Lady Palliser;—she whom you both loved has ever been, and is still faithful to you.—She confided in poor Willoughby at the last, and entreated him to shelter her from the anger of her mother, by withdrawing his addresses. He obeyed her wish—but—his mind lost its balance in the effort. There is hope then—surely there is hope—that Heaven will deal mercifully with him who had not reason for his guide when he sinned." Alfred looked in her face while she spoke. When she ceased, his lips attempted to move but no sound proceeded from them. Every power, mental and physical, had been strained beyond frail Nature's capability of endurance. His head rested, and he sunk on a sofa in nearly a swooning state. At this moment the doctor most opportunely entered. |