The Weird of the Wentworths: A Tale of George IV's Time, Vol. 1Scotus, Johannes
History
The Weird of the Wentworths: A Tale of George IV's Time, Vol. 1
Scotus, Johannes
Conduct of life -- Fiction; Great Britain -- History -- George IV, 1820-1830 -- Fiction
The two then conversed on different matters; their conversation being
well interlarded with oaths and curses. And in this way the best part of
half an hour slipped away, when a stamp was heard on the floor above.
The Captain started up with, "The faint-hearted fool; I see he has no
stomach for the siege. I'll up and show him how to storm the
breastworks; and if I win her love, by G-- I'll have it, too. I begin to
repent my folly in not making up to the girl myself. Now he has given me
the chance, see if I don't improve on it!"
He rose, and ere he strode for the door, glanced through the window on
to the green. "Death and furies! I knew it! we are betrayed!" he cried,
through his clenched teeth when he saw the Earl and several others
appear. "Earth, Stacy--there is treason, and Juana is traitor! Off, I
say. The siege has been raised!"
It needed no words; like a startled rat the old man dived into a recess,
and the Captain fled by a back passage to his horse, which he mounted,
leaving L'Estrange to his fate. Trusting that Juana had not dared to
implicate him in her confession, he rode round and appeared as we have
seen, determined to terrify Ellen into silence; he felt sure L'Estrange
knew him too well to be puzzled at his apparent desertion. He was most
fearful of Juana; but this fear was dispelled by his short interview
with her at the door.
We must now return to Ellen and L'Estrange. When the Captain and Stacy
were gone, Ellen felt able to breathe; she had some hope in the milder
disposition of L'Estrange; and she determined to try him both by proud
defiance and a woman's last resource--supplication and tears. As the
Captain thought, it was evident he had little heart for it; and as he
stood silent and undetermined at the door, Ellen despised him for his
lack of courage in pressing the very suit she most dreaded. For a long
time neither moved nor spoke; it was a scene worthy an artist's pencil,
if, indeed, he could have caught the different expressions on these two
young persons' faces, which made the conqueror stand like a captive
bondman, and the captive like a victorious queen! Ellen's face never
blanched, nor did her lip quiver, nor did her voice tremble, as she
addressed him:
"It falls again to my lot to open conversation; and I ask, with
unaffected surprise, the meaning of this scene--of my captivity--and
your presence where all high feelings, manly sentiment, and soldierly
honour forbid your intrusion?"
"I thank you for your words; they give me nerve and steel my breast. We
are now in altered positions, Miss Ravensworth; it was I who was
suppliant last time, and now I am in a position to demand."
"Methinks it sits ill upon you," said Ellen; "a third person would, I
think, see in you the suppliant still."
"You jest with your head in the lion's mouth."
"You wrong the noble animal; rather compare yourself to the jackall that
battens on the quarry the lion hunts down."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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