“Do not thus be despondent, my dear lord,” said the countess. “To me everything seems to look well.”
“Not so,” he replied. “We have one great danger. Should General Carpenter arrive before we have beaten Wills, we are lost. Had a victory been gained to-day-as it might and would have been had we not been thwarted by Forster-all would have been well. But now we must trust to chance. I will not say that Forster has betrayed us, but he has been excessively indiscreet in confiding his secrets to Mrs. Scarisbrick.”
“Then you think Mrs. Scarisbrick has given secret intelligence to the enemy?”
“I am almost sure of it,” replied the earl. “But let us not trouble our parting with gloomy anticipations.”
They then endeavoured to talk cheerfully, but the effort was in vain, and it was almost a relief to both of them when Father Norman entered.
He had just heard from Dorothy of their proposed flight, and came to inquire further about it.
“Has your lordship any instructions to give me?” he said.
“None whatever,” replied the earl. “I know you will ever watch over the countess during my absence-and if aught happens, console her.”
“I will teach her how to bear her affliction,” replied the priest. “Perchance this may be your last interview,” he added, looking steadily at the countess. “Have you aught to communicate to your husband?”
“We have never had any secrets from each other, good father,” said the earl. “Is it not so, sweetheart?”
The countess made no reply.
A slight pause ensued, after which the earl said:
“Am I to understand you have a secret from me?”
Another pause ensued, which was broken by the countess.
“Tell him all, father,” she cried. “I cannot.”
“What is this?” exclaimed the earl, astonished, and looking at the priest for an explanation. “What have you to tell me?”
“Speak! daughter!” cried Father Norman, imperiously. “The secret must be told,”
“Keep me not in suspense!” cried the earl, looking at her.
“You will think me very deceitful when I tell you that my heart was not wholly yours when I wedded you,” she replied.
“Not wholly mine!” he exclaimed in a tone of suppressed fury. “Who then was my rival?”
“The prince,” she replied.
“The prince!” he exclaimed, with a sudden burst of rage. “Since he was capable of this perfidy, I renounce him-I throw off my allegiance-I will break the sword I have borne for him-”
“Hear me, my lord,” she cried, clinging to him.
“Away!” he exclaimed, casting her from him. “How fondly I have loved you, you well know, but now you are hateful to me. Never let me behold you more!”
“Hold! my lord,” interposed Father Norman, in a tone of authority which the earl could not resist. “There must be no misunderstanding between you and the countess. By my counsel she has made this confession to you, because the secret has long weighed upon her heart, and because you may never meet again in this world. Listen to me, my lord. The love conceived by the countess for the prince was simply an ardent feeling of loyalty, carried, perchance, to excess; but in no way culpable. If the prince’s image was placed above your own in her breast, you need feel no jealousy. Nor can the prince be blamed, for word of love never passed his lips-nor was he aware of the passion he inspired.”
“Is this so?” cried the earl.
“It is so,” she replied. “I ought to have told you all this long ago-but hesitated from a silly fear, till my heart had become so burdened that I dared not speak. But now I felt that the confession must not be delayed, or it might never be made. Can you forgive me?”
“Come to my heart!” he cried, straining her to his breast.
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IX
The Ford
MIDNIGHT had come.
Very dark was the night, and favourable to the purpose of those who sought to fly from the beleaguered town. The fires in the burning houses were nearly extinguished, but the course of the conflagration could still be traced by a red glow along the street.