"I hope you have not invited Cyprian Rougemont?" said Mr. Talbot, regarding him fixedly.

"I have not, sir," replied Auriol, turning pale. "But why do you particularise him?"

"Because I have heard some things of him not much to his credit,"

replied Mr. Talbot.

"What--what have you heard, sir?" demanded Auriol.

"Why, one shouldn't believe all the ill one hears of a man; and, indeed, I _cannot_ believe all I have heard of Cyprian Rougemont," replied Mr.

Talbot; "but I should be glad if you dropped his acquaintance altogether. And now let us change the subject."

Mr. Talbot seated himself beside Mrs. Maitland, and began to give her some account of his journey, which appeared to have been as pleasant as it had been rapid.

Unable to shake off the gloom which had stolen over him, Auriol took his leave, promising to meet Mr. Talbot at his lawyer's in Lincoln's Inn, at noon on the following day. He was there at the time appointed, and, to Mr. Talbot's great delight, and the no small surprise of the lawyer, paid over a hundred thousand pounds, to be settled on his future wife.

"You are a perfect man of honour, Auriol," said Mr. Talbot, clapping him on the shoulder, "and I hope Edith will make you an excellent wife.

Indeed, I have no doubt of it."

"Nor I,--if I ever possess her," mentally e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Auriol.

The morning pa.s.sed in other preparations. In the evening the lovers met as usual, and separated with the full persuasion, on Edith's part at least, that the next day would make them happy. Since the night of the compact, Auriol had neither seen Rougemont, nor heard from him, and he neglected no precaution to prevent his intrusion.

CHAPTER V

THE SEVENTH NIGHT

It was a delicious morning in May, and the sun shone brightly on Auriol's gorgeous equipage, as he drove to St. George's, Hanover Square, where he was united to Edith. Thus far all seemed auspicious, and he thought he could now bill defiance to fate. With the object of his love close beside him, and linked to him by the strongest and holiest ties, it seemed impossible she could be s.n.a.t.c.hed from him. Nothing occurred during the morning to give him uneasiness, and he gave orders that a carriage and four should be ready an hour before midnight, to convey him and his bride to Richmond, where they were to spend their honeymoon.

Night came, and with it began to arrive the guests who were bidden to the ball. No expense had been spared by Auriol to give splendour to his fete. It was in all respects magnificent. The amus.e.m.e.nts of the evening commenced with a concert, which was performed by the first singers from the Italian Opera; after which, the ball was opened by Auriol and his lovely bride. As soon as the dance was over, Auriol made a sign to an attendant, who instantly disappeared.

"Are you prepared to quit this gay scene with me, Edith?" he asked, with a heart swelling with rapture.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The significant whisper.]

"Quite so," she replied, gazing at him with tenderness; "I long to be alone with you."

"Come, then," said Auriol.

Edith arose, and pa.s.sing her arm under that of her husband, they quitted the ball-room, but in place of descending the princ.i.p.al staircase, they took a more private course. The hall, which they were obliged to cross, and which they entered from a side-door, was s.p.a.cious and beautifully proportioned, and adorned with numerous statues on pedestals. The ceiling was decorated with fresco paintings, and supported by two stately scagliola pillars. From between these, a broad staircase of white marble ascended to the upper room. As Auriol had foreseen, the staircase was thronged with guests ascending to the ball-room, the doors of which being open, afforded glimpses of the dancers, and gave forth strains of liveliest music. Anxious to avoid a newly-arrived party in the hall, Auriol and his bride lingered for a moment near a pillar.

"Ha! who is this?" cried Edith, as a tall man, with a sinister countenance, and habited entirely in black, moved from the farther side of the pillar, and planted himself in their path, with his back partly towards them.

A thrill of apprehension pa.s.sed through Auriol's frame. He looked up and beheld Rougemont, who, glancing over his shoulder, fixed his malignant gaze upon him. Retreat was now impossible.

"You thought to delude me," said Rougemont, in a deep whisper, audible only to Auriol; "but you counted without your host. I am come to claim my victim."

"What is the matter with you, that you tremble so, dear Auriol?" cried Edith. "Who is this strange person?"

But her husband returned no answer. Terror had taken away his power of utterance.

"Your carriage waits for you at the door, madam--all is prepared," said Rougemont, advancing towards her, and taking her hand.

"You are coming, Auriol?" cried Edith, who scarcely knew whether to draw back or go forward.

"Yes--yes," cried Auriol, who fancied he saw a means of escape. "This is my friend, Mr. Rougemont--go with him."

"Mr. Rougemont!" cried Edith. "You told my father he would not be here."

"Your husband did not invite me, madam," said Rougemont, with sarcastic emphasis; "but knowing I should be welcome, I came unasked. But let us avoid those persons."

In another moment they were at the door. The carriage was there with its four horses, and a man-servant, in travelling attire, stood beside the steps. Rea.s.sured by the sight, Auriol recovered his courage, and suffered Rougemont to throw a cloak over Edith's shoulders. The next moment she tripped up the steps of the carriage, and was ensconced within it. Auriol was about to follow her, when he received a violent blow on the chest, which stretched him on the pavement. Before he could regain his feet, Rougemont had sprung into the carriage. The steps were instantly put up by the man-servant, who mounted the box with the utmost celerity, while the postillions, plunging spurs into their horses, dashed off with lightning speed. As the carriage turned the corner of King Street, Auriol, who had just arisen, beheld, by the light of a lamp, Rougemont's face at the window of the carriage, charged with an expression of the most fiendish triumph.

"What is the matter?" cried Mr. Talbot, who had approached Auriol, "I came to bid you good-bye. Why do I find you here alone? Where is the carriage?--what has become of Edith?"

"She is in the power of the Fiend, and I have sold her to him," replied Auriol gloomily.

"What mean you, wretch?" cried Mr. Talbot, in a voice of distraction. "I heard that Cyprian Rougemont was here. Can it be he that has gone off with her?"

"You have hit the truth," replied Auriol. "He bought her with the money I gave you. I have sold her and myself to perdition!"

"Horror!" exclaimed the old man, falling backwards.

"Ay, breathe your last--breathe your last!" cried Auriol wildly. "Would I could yield up my life, likewise!"

And he hurried away, utterly unconscious whither he went.

END OF THE INTERMEAN

BOOK THE SECOND

_CYPRIAN ROUGEMONT_

CHAPTER I

THE CELL