“Who are you, and what seek you?” exclaimed Lady Rookwood, after a brief pause, and, in spite of herself, her voice sounded tremulously. “What would you have, that you venture to appear before me at this season, and in this fashion?”
“I might have chosen a fitter opportunity,” returned Luke, “were it needed. My business will not brook delay—you must be pleased to overlook this intrusion on your privacy, at a season of sorrow, like the present. As to the fashion of my visit, you must be content to excuse that. I cannot help myself. I may amend hereafter. Who I am, you are able, I doubt not, to divine. What I seek, you shall hear, when this old woman has left the room, unless you would have a witness to a declaration that concerns you as nearly as myself.”
An indefinite feeling of apprehension had, from the first instant of Luke’s entrance, crossed Lady Rookwood’s mind. She, however, answered with some calmness:
“What you can have to say, is of small moment to me—nor does it signify who may hear it. It shall not, however, be said that Lady Rookwood feared to be alone, even though she endangered her life.”
“I am no assassin,” replied Luke, “nor have sought the destruction of my deadliest foe—though ’twere but retributive justice to have done so.”
Lady Rookwood started.
“Nay, you need not fear me,” replied Luke; “my revenge will be otherwise accomplished.”
“Go,” said Lady Rookwood to Agnes—”yet—stay without, in the antechamber.”
“My lady,” said Agnes, scarcely able to articulate, “shall I—”
“Hear me, Lady Rookwood,” interrupted Luke. “I repeat, I intend you no injury. My object here is solely to obtain a private conference. You have no reason for denying me this request. I will not abuse your patience. Mine is no idle mission. Say you refuse me, and I will at once depart. I will find other means of communicating with you—less direct, and therefore less desirable. Make your election. But we must be alone—undisturbed. Summon your household—let them lay hands upon me, and I will proclaim aloud what you would gladly hide, even from yourself.”
“Leave us, Agnes,” said Lady Rookwood. “I have no fear of this man. I can deal with him myself, should I see occasion.”
“Agnes,” said Luke, in a stern, deep whisper, arresting the ancient handmaiden as she passed him, “stir not from the door till I come forth. Have you forgotten your former mistress!—my mother? Have you forgotten Barbara Lovel, and that night?”
“In Heaven’s name, hush!” replied Agnes, with a shudder.
“Let that be fresh in your memory. Move not a footstep, whatever you may hear,” added he, in the same tone as before.
“I will not—I will not.” And Agnes departed.
Luke felt some wavering in his resolution when he found himself alone with the lady, whose calm, collected, yet haughty demeanour, as she resumed her seat, prepared for his communication, could not fail to inspire him with a certain degree of awe. Not unconscious of her advantage, nor slow to profit by it, Lady Rookwood remained perfectly silent, with her eyes steadily fixed upon his face, while his embarrassment momentarily increased. Summoning, at length, courage sufficient to address her, and ashamed of his want of nerve, he thus broke forth:
“When I entered this room, you asked my name and object. As to the first, I answer to the same designation as your ladyship. I have long borne my mother’s name. I now claim my father’s. My object is, the restitution of my rights.”
“Soh!—it; is as I suspected,” thought Lady Rookwood, involuntarily casting her large eyes down. “Do I hear you rightly?” exclaimed she, aloud; “your name is—”
“Sir Luke Rookwood. As my father’s elder born; by right of his right to that title.”
If a glance could have slain him, Luke had fallen lifeless at the lady’s feet. With a smile of ineffable disdain she replied, “I know not why I hesitate to resent this indignity, even for an instant. But I would see how far your audacity will carry you. The name you bear is Bradley?”
“In ignorance I have done so,” replied Luke. “I am the son of her whose maiden name was Bradley. She was—”
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