Emmeline, the Orphan of the CastleSmith, Charlotte
General
Emmeline, the Orphan of the Castle
Smith, Charlotte
Gothic fiction; Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- 18th century -- Fiction; Marriage -- Fiction; Single women -- Fiction
Irritated by these recollections, he gave himself up to all the dreadful
torments of jealousy--jealousy even to madness; and he felt this
corrosive passion in all it's extravagance. It was violent in proportion
to his love and his pride, and more insupportably painful in proportion
to it's novelty; for except once at Swansea, when he fancied that
Emmeline in her flight was accompanied by Fitz-Edward, he had never felt
it before; however they might serve him as a pretence, Rochely and
Elkerton were both too contemptible to excite it.
The night approached; and without having regained any share of
composure, he had at length determined to quit Nice the next day, that
his mother and Crofts might not be gratified with the sight of his
despair, and triumph in the detected perfidy of Emmeline.
Lady Montreville and her daughter were out when the letters arrived; and
he now apprehended that when they returned Millefleur might alarm them
by an account of his frantic behaviour, and that they would guess it to
have been occasioned by his letters from England. Starting up,
therefore, he called the poor fellow to him, who was not yet recovered
from his former terrifying menaces; and who approached, trembling, the
table where Delamere sat; his dress disordered, his eyes flashing fire,
and his lips pale and quivering.
'Come here, Sir!' sternly cried he.
Millefleur sprung close to the table.
'Have you cleaned and loaded my pistols?'
'_Monsieur--je, je m'occupais--je, je--Monsieur, ils sont----_'
'Fool, of what are you afraid?--what does the confounded _poltron_
tremble for?'
'_Mais Monsieur--c'est que--que--mais Monsieur, je ne scais!_'
'_Tenez_, Mr. Millefleur!' said Delamere sharply--'Remember what I am
going to say. Something has happened to vex me, and I shall go out
to-morrow for a few days, or perhaps I may go to England. My mother is
to know nothing of it, but what I shall myself tell her; therefore at
your peril speak of what has happened this evening, or of my intentions
for to-morrow. Come up immediately, and put my things into my
portmanteaus, and put my fire arms in order. I shall take you with me.
David need not be prepared till to-morrow. I shall go on horseback and
shall want him also. The least failure on your part of executing these
orders, you will find very inconvenient--you know I will not be trifled
with.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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