Charlotte M. Brame

“ Madame Vanira—you and I are strangers from this time."
"You are very hard on me," said Leone; "the day may come when you will admit that."
"The day will never come in which I will mistake good for evil, or right for wrong," said Lady Chandos. "Others may applaud you, you may continue your sway over the minds and hearts of men, but I shall protest against you, and all those like you, who would come between husbands and wives to separate them."
It was such a satire of fate, such a satire of her own life, that Leone's beautiful lips curled with a bitter smile. ”

“ An ideal life—an idyl in itself. Leone, while she lived, retained a vivid remembrance of those afternoons, of the shade of the deep woods, of the ripple of the river through the green banks, of the valleys where flowers and ferns grew, of the long alleys where the pleasant shade made a perfect paradise. She remembered them—the golden glow, the fragrance, the music of them, remained with her until she died. All the most pleasant times of our lives are dreams.
Then they dined together; and in the evening Lord Chandos took his beautiful young wife to the opera or the play, to concert or lecture. ”

“ Leone could have retaliated; the temptation was strong; she could have said:
"He was my husband, as I believed, before he was yours; you stole him from me, not I from you."
The temptation was strong, the words leaped in a burning torrent from her heart to her lips; she repressed them for his sake and bore the crushing words without reply.
"I have always heard," she said, "that there was ample reason that singers, even though they be queens of song, should not be admitted into the heart of one's home; now I see the justice of it; they are not satisfied with legitimate triumphs. ”

“ Have you read of the English mother who, when her fair-haired son grew pale at the sound of the first cannon, cried, 'Be brave, my son, death does not last one minute—glory is immortal.' I call such love as that the love of a mother for her son—the love that teaches a man to be true, if it cost his life; to be brave, if courage brings him death; to be loyal and noble. True motherly love shows itself in that fashion, Lady Lanswell."
The proud head of Lucia, Countess of Lanswell, drooped before this girl as it had never done before any power on earth. ”

“ Leone's beautiful Spanish face flashed before him, and he laughed at the word dairy-maid; she was peerless as a queen.
"Dare is not the word to use to a man, mother," he retorted.
"Nor should I use it to a man," said my lady, with a satirical smile. "I am not speaking to a man, but to a hot-headed boy; a man has self-control, self-denial, self-restraint, you have none; a man weighs the honor of his name or his race in his hands; a man hesitates before he degrades a name that kings have delighted to honor, before he ruins hopelessly the prestige of a grand old race for the sake of a dairy-maid. ”

“ And hide her away in a shroud."
"Those words took my fancy, Lord Chandos," continued Leone; "they are so true, so terribly true. All grace and beauty will be hidden away some day in a shroud."
"There will be no shroud for the soul," he said.
She rose from her seat and looked round with a weary sigh.
"That is true. After all, nothing matters, death ends everything; nothing matters except being good and going to heaven."
He smiled half sadly at her.
"Those are grave thoughts for the most brilliant beauty, the most gifted singer, the most popular queen of the day," he said. ”

“ The words had been a death-knell to Leone. She had seen his wife and lived—she had seen him in his home with that same fair wife by his side, and she had lived; but at the thought of her rival's children in his arms her whole soul died.
Died—never to live again. She sat for some time just where Lady Marion left her, and she said to herself a thousand times over and over again those words—"Lance's little child." Only God knows the anguish that came over her, the piercing sorrow, the bitter pain—the memory of those few months when she had believed herself to be Lance's wife. ”

“ It was strange that they should have both come there without having any clear or distinct notion why.
"It seems to me," said Lord Chandos, "that we are both under guidance."
"I am glad, for my own part," said Lady Erskine. "It is much easier to be guided than to guide. I find it easier to obey than to command."
"Do you?" he asked, laughingly. "You will find it very easy then some day 'to love, honor and obey.'"
"I do not doubt it," said the beautiful heiress, calmly. "I should not care to go through life alone; I want a stronger soul than my own to lean on." ”

“ Leone, when sad thoughts come to you promise me that you will dwell on this side of the picture and forget the other."
"I promise, Lance," she said, gently.
"You see, my love—whom I shall so soon call again by the beautiful name of wife—you see that your life does not lie in ruins round you; the only difference is that I shall be away."
"And that makes the difference of the whole world to me," said Leone.
"And to me," said Lord Chandos; "but it will soon be over, Leone. You can go on living here—it is no unusual thing for a lady to live alone while her husband is abroad. ”

“ CHAPTER XL. "FORGIVE ME, LEONE."
"Lance," she said, suddenly, "or, as I ought to say, Lord Chandos—how can I forgive you? What you ask is more than any woman could grant. I cannot pardon the treachery which has ruined my life, which has stricken me, without blame or fault of mine, from the roll of honorable women—which has made me a by-word, a mark for the scorn and contempt of others, a woman to be contemned and despised. Of what use are all the gifts of Heaven to me, with the scarlet brand you have marked on my brow?"
He grew white, even to the lips, as the passionate words reached his ears. ”

“ We were so happy, and you were all the world to me. How shall I live through the long months to come? Lance, perhaps you will be angry with me—I have done something that perhaps you will not like."
"That would not be possible, Leone. I must always like everything you do. Why, my darling, how you tremble! Sit down, there is nothing in all the world to fear."
"No; let me tell you what I have to say with my head here on your breast. You must not be angry with me, Lance. When I had seen Mr. Sewell, I felt that I could not bear it. I went down to Cawdor and saw Lady Lanswell." ”

“ As she sits in her morning-dress, the palest blue, trimmed with the most delicate cream color, a pretty, coquettish cap on her golden head, the bloom and freshness of early youth on her face, she looks the loveliest picture of lovely and blooming womanhood, the perfection of elegance, the type of a patrician. Her white hands are covered with shining gems—Lady Chandos has a taste for rings. She is altogether a proper wife for a man to have to trust, to place his life and honor in her, a wife to be esteemed, appreciated and revered, but not worshiped with a mad passion. ”

“ He is young and has a long life before him. Is he happy? Look at his face—look at his restless, weary eyes—listen to the forced bitter laugh! Is he happy, after all your false love has done for him? You have taken from him the woman he loves, and you have given him one for whom he cares so little he would leave her to-morrow! Have you done so well, Lady Lanswell for your son?"
"No, indeed I have not!" came with a great sigh from Lady Lanswell's lips. "Perhaps, if it were to be—but no, I will not say that. You have noble thoughts and noble ideas—tell me, Leone, will you help me?" ”

“ She who had never known a trouble or a care, now wore the expression of one who was heart-broken; she shrunk from all gayety, all pleasures, all parties; she was like the ghost of her former self; yet after those words of her husband's she never spoke again of Madame Vanira. The sword was sheathed in her heart and she kept it there.
There is no pain so cruel as jealousy; none that so quickly deteriorates a character; it brings so many evils in its train—suspicion, envy, hatred of life, distrust in every one and in everything ”

“ The light of the setting sun had somewhat faded then, and it moved from the proud figure of the countess to the lovely young face of Leone, but even as the light warmed it, new pride, new energy, new passion seemed to fill it. The prayer and the pleading died—the softened light, the sweet tenderness left it; it was no longer the face of a loving, tender-hearted girl, pleading with hot tears that she might not be taken from her husband—it was the face of a tragedy queen, full of fire and passion. ”

“ Leone looked up, with vivid interest in her face.
"Does she? Ah, that is greater art than being able to sing the music another has written."
"I do not think so," he replied. "If you are thinking of Lady Marion in comparison with yourself, there is no comparison; it is like moonlight and sunlight, water and wine. She has the grace and calm of repose. You have the fire of genius, before which everything grows pale. She quiets a man's heart. You stir every pulse in it. She soothes one into forgetfulness of life. ”

“ I do not want to offend you, Lance; but you are really too young to think of marriage. Your tastes are not formed yet; that which pleases you now you will dislike in six or ten years' time. I assure you that if you marry this farmer's niece now, in ten years' time you will repent it in sackcloth and ashes. She is not fit, either by manner, education, or anything else, to be your mother's daughter, and you know it; you know that when the glamour of her beauty is over you will wonder at your own madness and folly. ”

“ What could any one wish for more? She would tell you, with a charming, placid smile on her sweet face, that she is perfectly happy. If there be higher bliss than hers she does not know it yet; if there is a love, as there is genius, akin to madness, she has never felt it. Passion does not enter her life, it is all serene and calm.
In those three years Lord Chandos had made for himself a wonderful name. The Duke of Lester had done all that he could for him, but his own talents and energy had done more. ”

“ Lance, Lord Chandos, shuddered at the words—"a tempestuous young person"—this was the heroine of his romance, his beautiful Leone, whose voice always came to him with the whisper of the wind, and the sweet ripple of falling water. "A tempestuous young person," his beautiful Leone, whose passionate kisses were still warm on his lips, whose bitter tears seemed wet on his face—Leone, who was a queen by right divine. He turned angrily away, and Lady Lanswell, seeing that she had gone far enough, affected not to see his anger, but spoke next in a laughing tone of voice. ”

“ Leone took the chair, and Lady Chandos sat down on a footstool by her side. It was one of the most brilliant and picturesque pictures ever beheld; the gorgeous room, with its rich hangings, the beautiful, dark-eyed woman, with the Spanish face, her dress like softened sunbeams, the fire of her rubies like points of flame, her whole self lovely as a picture, and the fair Queen of Blondes, with the golden hair and white roses—a picture that would have made an artist's fortune. ”

“ I love little children so dearly. And I have always thought that if I could give to my husband children to love he would love me better. I have prayed as Rachel prayed, but it seemed to me the heavens were made of brass—no answer came to my prayers. I have wept bitter tears when I have seen other mothers caressing their children. When my husband has stopped to kiss a child or play with it, my heart has burned with envy, and now, oh, madame, bend lower, lower—now Heaven has been so good to me, and they tell me that in a few months I shall have a darling little child, all my own. ”

“ Lady Marion asked me what was the matter, and the countess thought that I was going to swoon. I staggered out of the room like a man who had drunk too much wine, and it was many hours before I recovered myself; and now, Leone, you sing the same words to me; they are like a death knell."
"They hold a prophecy," said Leone, sadly, "the only place where any one can find rest is the grave."
"My beautiful Leone," he cried, "you must not talk about the grave. There should be no death and no grave for one like you." ”

“ If her husband had gone out for a day with the most beautiful woman on earth, she would either have completely ignored the fact, or, with a smiling satire, have passed it by. She did not love the earl well enough to be jealous of him; she did not understand love or jealousy in others. She sat now quite helpless before the unhappy wife, whose grief annoyed her.
"This will not do, Marion," she said, "you will make yourself quite ill."
"Ill," repeated Lady Marion, "I have been ill in heart and soul for many days, and now I am sick unto death. I wish I could die; life has nothing left for me." ”

“ Then Lord Chandos rose from his seat with a shudder.
"Let us go out into the sunlight," he said; "the shade under the old cedar makes you dull. How you have changed! I can remember when you never had a dull thought."
"I can remember when I had no cause for dull thoughts," she answered. Then, fancying that the words implied some little reproach to him, she continued, hastily: "My soul has grown larger, and the larger one's soul the more one suffers. I have understood more of human nature since I have tried to represent the woes of others." ”

“ I have not half so much in any creature living. You hold that one card in your hand—you seem to think it a winning one; it may or may not be. I tell you one thing frankly: that I have already settled in my own mind who shall be my son's wife, and I seldom fail in a purpose."
"You are a wicked woman," cried Leone. "I have no fear of you. You may try all that you will. I do not believe that you will take my husband from me. You are a wicked woman, and God will punish you, Lady Lanswell. You have parted husband and wife who loved each other." ”