第36章

After the ceremonial greetings had been paid, Lady EleanoreRochcliffe stood apart from the mob of guests, insulating herselfwithin a small and distinguished circle, to whom she accorded a morecordial favor than to the general throng. The waxen torches threwtheir radiance vividly over the scene, bringing out its brilliantpoints in strong relief; but she gazed carelessly, and with now andthen an expression of weariness or scorn, tempered with suchfeminine grace that her auditors scarcely perceived the moraldeformity of which it was the utterance. She beheld the spectaclenot with vulgar ridicule, as disdaining to be pleased with theprovincial mockery of a court festival, but with the deeper scorn ofone whose spirit held itself too high to participate in theenjoyment of other human souls. Whether or no the recollections ofthose who saw her that evening were influenced by the strange eventswith which she was subsequently connected, so it was that her figureever after recurred to them as marked by something wild and unnatural-although, at the time, the general whisper was of her exceedingbeauty, and of the indescribable charm which her mantle threw aroundher. Some close observers, indeed, detected a feverish flush andalternate paleness of countenance, with a corresponding flow andrevulsion of spirits, and once or twice a painful and helplessbetrayal of lassitude, as if she were on the point of sinking to theground. Then, with a nervous shudder, she seemed to arouse herenergies and threw some bright and playful yet half-wicked sarcasminto the conversation. There was so strange a characteristic in hermanners and sentiments that it astonished every right-minded listener;till looking in her face, a lurking and incomprehensible glance andsmile perplexed them with doubts both as to her seriousness andsanity. Gradually, Lady Eleanore Rochcliffe's circle grew smaller,till only four gentlemen remained in it. These were CaptainLangford, the English officer before mentioned; a Virginian planter,who had come to Massachusetts on some political errand; a youngEpiscopal clergyman, the grandson of a British earl; and, lastly,the private secretary of Governor Shute, whose obsequiousness hadwon a sort of tolerance from Lady Eleanore.

At different periods of the evening the liveried servants of theProvince House passed among the guests, bearing huge trays ofrefreshments and French and Spanish wines. Lady Eleanore Roch-cliffe, who refused to wet her beautiful lips even with a bubble ofChampagne, had sunk back into a large damask chair, apparentlyoverwearied either with the excitement of the scene or its tedium, andwhile, for an instant, she was unconscious of voices, laughter, andmusic, a young man stole forward, and knelt down at her feet. Hebore a salver in his hand, on which was a chased silver goblet, filledto the brim with wine, which he offered as reverentially as to acrowned queen, or rather with the awful devotion of a priest doingsacrifice to his idol. Conscious that someone touched her robe, LadyEleanore started, and unclosed her eyes upon the pale, wild featuresand dishevelled hair of Jervase Helwyse.

"Why do you haunt me thus?" said she, in a languid tone, but with akindlier feeling than she ordinarily permitted herself to express.

"They tell me that I have done you harm.""Heaven knows if that be so," replied the young man solemnly. "But,Lady Eleanore, in requital of that harm, if such there be, and foryour own earthly and heavenly welfare, I pray you to take one sip ofthis holy wine, and then to pass the goblet round among the guests.

And this shall be a symbol that you have not sought to withdrawyourself from the chain of human sympathies- which whoso would shakeoff must keep company with fallen angels.""Where has this mad fellow stolen that sacramental vessel?"exclaimed the Episcopal clergyman.

This question drew the notice of the guests to the silver cup,which was recognized as appertaining to the communion plate of the OldSouth Church; and, for aught that could be known, it was brimming overwith the consecrated wine.

"Perhaps it is poisoned," half whispered the Governor's secretary.

"Pour it down the villain's throat!" cried the Virginian fiercely.

"Turn him out of the house!" cried Captain Langford, seizingJervase Helwyse so roughly by the shoulder that the sacramental cupwas overturned, and its contents sprinkled upon Lady Eleanore'smantle. "Whether knave, fool, or Bedlamite, it is intolerable that thefellow should go at large.""Pray, gentlemen, do my poor admirer no harm," said LadyEleanore, with a faint and weary smile. "Take him out of my sight,if such be your pleasure; for I can find in my heart to do nothing butlaugh at him; whereas, in all decency and conscience, it wouldbecome me to weep for the mischief I have wrought!"But while the by-standers were attempting to lead away theunfortunate young man, he broke from them, and with a wild,impassioned earnestness, offered a new and equally strange petition toLady Eleanore. It was no other than that she should throw off themantle, which, while he pressed the silver cup of wine upon her, shehad drawn more closely around her form, so as almost to shroud herselfwithin it.

"Cast it from you!" exclaimed Jervase Helwyse, clasping his handsin an agony of entreaty. "It may not yet be too late! Give theaccursed garment to the flames!"But Lady Eleanore, with a laugh of scorn, drew the rich folds ofthe embroidered mantle over her head, in such a fashion as to give acompletely new aspect to her beautiful face, which- half hidden,half revealed- seemed to belong to some being of mysteriouscharacter and purposes.