The White Gauntlet. Reid Mayne

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СКАЧАТЬ as he is now! ’Tis cruel, to be thus constrained by silly social custom! My sex, too, against me. I dare not speak first. Even in his eyes it would undo me!

      “He is going to pass me as before? Is there no way by which this painful reticence may be removed?”

      The fair equestrian appeared to ponder on some plan – only half-formed and half-resolved, as her muttered reflections indicated.

      “Dare I do it? What would my proud father say, if he were to know? Even gentle cousin Lora would chide me? A stranger whose name I only know, and that’s all. Perhaps not a gentleman? Oh – yes – yes – yes! He can not be other. He may not be a lord of the land – but he is lord of my poor heart! I cannot restrain myself from soliciting him – even if it bring shame and repentance. I shall do it – I shall do it!”

      The speech betrayed a determination. To do what?

      The act itself, following close upon the words, answered the question. With a quick jerk the lady dislodged the kestrel from its perch, tossing the bird to the neck of her palfrey – where it clung, clutching the snow-white mane. Then drawing off her glove, a white gauntlet, she dropped it negligently by her side – permitting it to slide down the skirt of her riding-dress. It fell into the middle of the road.

      A short moment intervened. The lady apparently unconscious of the loss she had sustained, tightened the rein upon her palfrey, and with a slight touch of the whip moved out from under the branches of the beech – her horse’s head turned in a direction opposite to that in which the cavalier was approaching.

      At first she rode slowly – apparently desirous of being overtaken. Presently she increased the pace; then faster, and faster, until she went at a gallop – as though by a sudden change of thought she had determined to avoid an interview! The thick tresses of her golden hair escaping from the comb swept down upon the croup behind her. The natural red of her cheeks had become heightened to the hue of carmine. It was the suffusion of burning blushes. Her eyes were flashing with a strange excitement in an expression that spoke of something like shame. She had repented of what she had done, and dreaded to wait the consequence of the act!

      For all that she was dying to look back, but dared not.

      A turn in the road, at length, offered her the opportunity. As she reined her palfrey around the corner, she glanced towards the spot where she had abandoned her glove.

      The tableau that saluted her eye was not displeasing. The cavalier, bending down from his saddle, was just lifting the gauntlet upon the point of his glistening rapier!

      What would he do with it?

      She waited not to see. Her palfrey passed behind the trees, and the horseman was hidden from her sight. On that splendid steed he might easily have overtaken her: but, although listening, as she rode on, she heard no hoof-stroke behind her.

      She did not desire to be overtaken. For that day she had submitted herself to sufficient humiliation – self-administered – it is true; but she slackened not the pace, till she has passed through the gates of the park, and sighted the walls of the paternal mansion.

      Volume One – Chapter Two

      If tumultuous were the emotions of Marion Wade, as she let fall that significant token, not less so were those of Henry Holtspur as he took it up.

      Had the lady remained a moment longer looking back, she would have seen her glove taken gently from the point of the cavalier’s sword, pressed with a wild fervour to his lips, and proudly placed alongside the plume in the frontlet of his beaver.

      She only saw that her challenge had been accepted; and, with a thrill of sweet satisfaction, contending against a sense of shame, she had ridden rapidly away.

      The cavalier, equally gratified, appeared also perplexed: as if hesitating whether he should follow. But the abrupt departure of the lady seemed to say that pursuit was prohibited; and, checking his ardour, along with his steed, he remained by the tree, under the shadow of which he had halted.

      For some minutes he sate in his saddle, apparently absorbed in reflections. That they were not all of one character was evinced by the expression upon his countenance, which kept continually changing. Now it betokened triumph, with its concomitant pleasure; anon could be traced the lines that indicated doubt, accompanied by pain; and, once or twice, an expression that told of regret, or remorse, was visible. These facial changes will be better understood by giving in detail the thoughts that were causing them.

      Was it intended for a challenge? Can I doubt it? Had the incident been alone, I might have deemed it accidental. But the many times we have met – and upon this lone road! Why should she come this way, unless – ? And her looks? On each occasion bolder, and lovelier! Oh! how sweet to be thus favoured! How different from that other love, that has had such unhappy ending! Then I was prized but for my position, my prospects, and my fortune. When these fell from me, only to be forsaken!

      “If she love me, her love cannot rest on circumstances like these. She knows me not – not even my name! That she may have heard, can suggest neither rank, nor fortune. If she love me, it must be for myself? ’Tis a thrilling thought – thus to believe!”

      The eye of the cavalier lighted up with an expression of triumph; and he sate proudly erect in his saddle.

      Only for a short time did he preserve this high attitude. Reflections of a far different character succeeded, dissipating the happiness he had for the moment experienced.

      “She will know in time? She must know? Even I, myself, must tell her the terrible secret. And then what is to become of this sweet, but transient, dream? It will be all over; and instead of her love, I shall become the object of her hatred – her scorn? O God! To think it must end thus! To think that I have won, and yet can never wear!”

      The features of the speaker became overspread with a deep gloom.

      “Why did I enter upon this intrigue? Why have I permitted it to proceed? Why do I desire its continuance? To all these questions the answer is the same. Who could have resisted? Who could resist? It is not in man’s nature to behold such beauty, without yearning to possess it. As Heaven is my witness, I have struggled to subdue this unholy passion – to destroy it – to pluck it forth from my bosom. I have tried to shun the presence of her who inspires it. Perhaps I might have succeeded, had not she. Alas! I have no longer the power to retreat. That is gone, and the will as well. I must on – on – like the insect lured by some fatal light, to a self-sought and certain destruction!”

      It was then that remorse became plainly depicted upon the countenance of the cavalier. What could be causing it? That was a secret he scarcely dared declare to himself.

      “After all,” he continued, a new train of thought seeming to suggest itself, “what if it be an accident – this, that has made me at once so happy, and yet so wretched? Her looks, too – those glances that have gladdened my heart, at the same time awaking within me a consciousness of wrongdoing, as, too ardently, I gave them back – may I not have misinterpreted them? If she intended that I should take up this glove – that I should restore it to her – why did she not stay to receive it? Perhaps I have been misconceiving her motives? After all, am I the victim of an illusion – following but an ignis fatuus kindled by my own vanity?”

      At the moment the look of remorse gave place to one of chagrin. The cavalier appeared no longer to regret being too much loved; but rather that he might not be loved at all – a reflection far more painful.

      “Surely! I cannot be СКАЧАТЬ