“Sooner would I perish, sooner would I involve all in one universal ruin! But it is impossible; she scarcely knows him.”
“And if it were so, still you would be wrong to blame Elvira for what, in fact, she cannot help. Her yielding softness is the defect of her character.”
“Fool that I was! that very softness caught me, and my fond heart fell captive to its chains. But it was folly, infatuation! I see my error; Rosabella has more character. She can love.”
Lord Edmund crossed his arms upon his breast and was soon lost in a reverie, which Father Morris was careful not to interrupt, but which was broken by the approach of Trevors, his lordship’s aid-de-camp and secretary.
“What do you want?” asked Lord Edmund, sternly.
“I came to seek your Lordship. I feared you were unwell, as I missed your Lordship from the party.”
“You missed me!” repeated Lord Edmund, bitterly. “You missed me! and did no one else discover my absence? Was it so marked that my servant could observe it, and yet no one else?”
“Did not the Queen inquire for Lord Edmund?” asked Father Morris.
“I did not hear her Majesty,” replied Trevors.
“How was she engaged? what was she doing?” demanded Lord Edmund.
“She was sitting, talking to Prince Ferdinand, my Lord.”
Lord Edmund gnashed his teeth together, grinding them with fury, and rushed back to the house without speaking, whilst Trevors followed at an humble distance.
“He has it!” cried Father Morris triumphantly—“he has it, and he is mine forever!”
Several days elapsed from this period before Elvira again saw Lord Edmund. She was surprised at his absence; as indeed he was so interwoven in her schemes and plans, that nothing went on well without him.
“Will your Majesty have the goodness to affix the royal seal to this ordinance?” asked Lord Gustavus one morning.
“I don’t know,” replied Elvira. “I can’t tell what to do. I wish Lord Edmund were here.”
“He may soon be sent for,” said Lord Gustavus pompously; “though, with all due deference to your Majesty’s better judgment, it does not appear to me that his presence is exactly requisite.”
Lord Edmund, however, was summoned, and he came. But oh! how changed since Elvira had seen him last! His face looked pale and thin, his cheeks were sunken, and his eyes hollow and heavy, whilst his deep voice sounded hoarse and unnatural. Passion had passed through his soul, and withered as it went. Elvira’s heart smote her as she gazed upon him.
“You have been ill, Edmund!” said she, in tones of melting softness. “Why was I not informed! Surely you could not think I would willingly neglect you? Could you judge so harshly of me?”
The firm breast of Edmund softened as she spoke, and tears swam in his eyes as he struggled to reply with calmness—yes, tears; the brave, the warlike Edmund, whose strength of mind and firmness had resisted unequalled dangers, now trembled before a woman.
“You must have some advice,” continued Elvira. “Dr. Coleman, Dr. Hardman, can you not prescribe for your patient?”
“His Lordship appears feverish,” said Dr. Coleman. “No doubt he has rested ill.”
“Yes—yes,” rejoined Dr. Hardman, with a malignant smile. “His Lordship’s eyes betray his want of rest.”
“I have been slightly indisposed,” said Lord Edmund, rallying his spirits to speak: “but I am better. Is there anything in which my services can be useful to your Majesty?”
“Her Majesty wishes you to inspect this bill,” replied Lord Gustavus solemnly, “before she gives it her royal assent.”
Lord Edmund’s eyes sparkled. “Then she still thinks my opinion of importance,” thought he.
“Lord Edmund’s illness, I hope, is passed,” said Dr. Hardman maliciously; “for he certainly looks better even since he came into the room.”
Lord Edmund was better; a sudden revulsion of feeling had taken place within him, and hope was again illumined in his bosom. Passion again rushed through his soul. “She must, she shall, be mine,” thought he, whilst fire flashed from his eyes. “She loves me, and she shall yet be my wife. The hated law which prevents her marriage shall be repealed. Difficulties only increase the value of the prize, and they vanish before a determined spirit. What! shall I, before whose arm whole nations have fallen vanquished, shrink like a coward from the first trouble which assails me! Oh, no! I will not be so weak; opposition shall only animate my courage. Treasures would be scarcely worth acceptance if they lay beneath one’s feet—a brave man spurns an easy victory! I will exert my powers, and Elvira shall be mine.”
Father Morris was at the levee, and he watched with anxious eyes the fluctuations in Edmund’s expressive countenance. “Perdition seize her beauty!” muttered he; “with one look she undoes whole months of labour. But he shall yet be mine—Cheops has sworn he shall—and Rosabella shall be Queen. Be the Mummy mortal or fiend, he is resistless; he has unbounded power over the human heart, and what he wills must be accomplished.”
Some weeks elapsed, during which Lord Edmund, restored to his former influence in the government, laboured assiduously to prepare the minds of the people for abolishing the law which prevented the marriage of the Queen. With the greatest care he endeavoured to make Elvira popular. For this purpose he persuaded her to remit those burdens which weighed most heavily upon the people, replacing them by taxes levied in a more indirect way; for the mass of a population seldom grumbles at taxation, unless it see the trifles for which it pays; and men do not regard the giving double the real value of a commodity a tenth part so much, as paying even a small direct sum for the use of any of the common necessaries of life.
By judiciously acting upon this principle, Edmund made himself adored; and whispers even were buzzed about, lamenting that he was not King. This was the point to which Edmund had wished to bring the
