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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1887-9-2, Page 71( SEPT. 2, 1887 PUT ASUNDER; on, Lady Castlemaine's Divorce t By BERTHA N. CLAT, ArTiloa Or "A Mounted Life," "The L+nrPM ANae. sorra," " A Straggle for a Ring," ore„ CO" ate. and that other people could road hie character bettor than she could. She felt further away from him that day than she had since they were mar- ried, It was a miserable day to Isabel; she had voluntarily placed herself in temp• tation, yet she could not endure to soe Lord Castlemaine's passionate love for his wife. Once, as she was standing on the grand staircase, waiting for something that her maid had gone to find, she saw husband and wife meet quit° accident- ally in the hall. It was in the shadow of the winter afternoon, before the lamps were lighted. She heard Lord Castlemaine say : "Gertrude, my dar- ling, is that you ?" She heard the gently murmured "Yee." Love alone uses such tones. Then she saw him clasp his wife in his arms, and cover her face with kisses. "My darling, my beautiful wife, I shall comp and have a cup of tea with you." Isabel turned away, utterly unable bo bear it. If by one wish, if by raising her finger, she could have struck the fair white -rose beauty from Gertrude's face, she would have done it. In her passionate, jealous rage, she could have struck dead the man she loved. "Lead us not into temptation I" The words came to her like faint Sounds through a mist, In her heart—that jealous, despairing heart, full of love for a man who had never loved her— she felt capable, in that moment, of any crime ; she could have slain that fair young wife; she could have slain the man whose dark, handsome face had lured her to her doom. She turned away. Death• would not have been so bitter as the pain that rent her heart. An hour afterward, when Isabel Hyde went, as was her custom, to the warm, cozy boudoir where the tea awaited her, Lady Castlemaine looked at her in wonder. "Isabel," she cried, "how ill you look! You have lost all your beautiful color. You deserve to lose your name; you are not at all like a Red Rose—and you are trembling, actually trembling." "I do not see anytliing wonderful in that, Gertrude. Any one might tremble g on a cold December afternoon." "I will give you some hot tea," said Lady Castleman°, "Rudolph said he would join us." He came, looking so handsome, an brave, so kind, with his eyes so full of admiration and love for his wife that Isabel could hardly bear it. "Lead us not into temptation I" Yet she had come there purposely to be tempted herself, and to tempt others. That dark winter afternoon, as she watched the guileless, innocent love, the simple happiness of husband and wife, she repeated her vow. She would part them forever and aye. But Toro was it to be done ? Spirits of envy and hato help and aid her I How was it to be done? CHAPTER XV. THE RINGS AND QUEENS OF ENGLAND. The Christmas week was ended, yet none of the guests felt inclined to leave Neath. The holiday had been so pleasant—every variety of old English sport and pastime had been in requisi- tion—charade parties, balls, private theatricals ; they had almost turned night into day ; yet, the day was not long enough. It was a time never to be forgotten by those who enjoyed it. Lady Castle- maine and Miss Hyde were the two queens; Lady Castlemaine, young, beautiful, gifted with high spirits, al- ways bright, alwaya ready to enjoy everything to its fullest extent, was the leader of the revels. Isabel Hyde, beautiful and graceful, too, followed her lead, and no one knew of the shadow of tragedy that hung over her, or of her terrible vow. "I have been so happy here," she said one morning, "that I shall not like going away." "You need not go away; stay until the end of January ; I shall be delight- ed, and I am sure Rudolph will." Her heart ached just h little at her own treachery; the fair face looked se smilingly into hers ; the blue eyes were so clear and 'guileless; the invitation had been so cordially given. Yet she knew that her only object in stopping with themwae, that shemight work her cruel will and part them. Good im- pulses came to her at times and plead- ed for them—pleaded to her to go away and leave them—to put Lord Castle- maine out of her life—to bo true to the beautiful woman whom she called friend. What harm had they done to her/ Lady Castlemaine had not taken hei love from her by treachery; neither.aaa the earl boon her lover, for the love's all on her side, not on his ; he had nevgr even been conscious of it. There wetle times even now when she almost wish• ed that she had let him see lbw nglgph she loved him ; and yet she would luefe lowered her own self-respeot,a1oW°t rd it in vain, for from the mo ant ifsq beheld Gertrude he had neither tips nor oars for anyone else.. "I do not think," she said to hers° bitterly, "that if had ;gone on S' knees to him, to pray of him to marry me; that if I had been as beautiful as Venus, and desoended like a queen, that bo would have married me." There were times when elle gave her- self up to wondering over the strange problems of life; as to why it was that 1 o been so aha, who could have happy, should find the whole world so dark and dreary because the love of her life was given to one who did not love her, She never reminded herself that it was her own fault—that she bad voluntarily and wilfully encouraged that love to grow in her heart, knowing it to be useless; that she had given free rein to apassion that should have been crushed at the first. She blamed Providence, circum- stances, fate, chance—any and every- bhing, except herself. Of all the impulses that came to her, of all the good thoughts and the bad thoughts, none were strong enough to cause her to falter in her purpose. Her purpose in life was to separate husband and wife—to kill the great love that lay between them, and put hate in its place. She worked perseveringly and in- dustriously; she never allowed the slightest chance to pass. If she could possibly make Lord Castlemaine impatient with his wife, if she could irritate him against her, if she could rouse the obstinate self-will that was so strong within him, she would be happy. If, by some laughing taunt, some sharp, cynical remark, she could rouse Gertrude's pride against her husband, she felt one degree nearer victory. Yet it was all done with such skill, such le craft, such subtlety that it was im- possible for her to bo deteoted. She never lost one chance. One morning Lord and Lady Castle. maino, Miss Hyde, and several other visitors, were together and were dis- cussing tableaux vivants for the even- ing. "Let us have one tableaux from the most picturesque period of English his. tory,the reign of Henry the Eighth," said Lady Castlemaine. She turned to her husband with a smile. "Which of all Icing Henry's wives do you prefer?" she asked. He was silent for a few minutes, and then he replied : "Catharine of Aragon." "And I," she said, "prefer Anne Bo- leyn. I do not believe any of the scan- dals about her. She was a beautiful, unhappy woman. Anne Boleyn is one of my favorite heroines in history." "There is one thing about her that I can never understand," said Isabel Hyde, "and itis, how the king could hate her so deeply after loving her so much: "There you touch upon a strange metaphysical question," said Lord Cas- tlemaine. "It is said that love turned to hate is the most bitter hate of all." "I cannot imagine hating any one who has been dearly loved," cried Lady Castlemaine." "I oan,"interrupted Isabel. "I agree with Lord Castlemaine ; love turned to hate is the most bitter hate of all." "Yon remember," said Lord Castle- maine, "that most expressive line : "Hell knows no fury hke a woman scorned." He spoke quite unconsciously, not thinking at all of Miss Hyde. But she gave him one glance—it said so much that if any one had interpreted it, that person must have understood the posi- tion at a glance. "Love turned to hate," sighed Lady Castlomaine; "the idea is a very sox, rowful one. I wonder if there is much wasted love in the world." "Yes," said Isabel Hyde, briefly, "you may be quite sure of that." "'You must read Evangeline," said Lord Castlemaine, "and see what Long. fellow says about wasted affections. He declares affection never is wasted." "I do not believe," said Isabel Hydo, "that he could prove his words. But eve are going a long way from Anne Boleyn. You would like a picture from that most troubled time, Lord Castle - mane ?" "Yes," he said ; "I have oftenthought how interesting a series of historical tableaux would be—one taken from each reign. It would be interesting and amusing." "You would be I{ing Henry,' said Isabel; "but, Lord Castlemaine, you do not look the part. King Henry was fair, and florid, and stout; you are dark, and—and—I was going to add, handsome ; but I must not say that." She added in her own mind that he had indeed the grand, dark beauty that pictures give to Spanish kings, and her eyes told her thoughts plainly. "If we have that tableau," said Lady Castlemaine, "I should like to be Anne Boleyn. I am sure I could sot a char. actor that is familiar to me, and one that I like." "And 1," said Miss Hyde, "should like bobs Catharine of Aragon." "She was old and plain," interrupted Lady Castlemaine. "She was his wife, replied Isabel ; "he loved her first and best; ho loved her well and faithfully—for how many years ?" "He loved Anne Boleyn more in the few years of his wooing and his mar. riage, than he did Catharine, spreading his love over all those years." "I wonder," said Isabel, "which of his wives he really loved the best, Each one seemed to have separate and differ. eat charaotezietics. Catharine was 'every inch a queen,' a royal lady, true to God and to duty. What she must have suffered When she found hor bus. band's love goingfromher to one se t young and beautiful as Anne—the tor. tures of jealousy, the fears and the doubts. 1 should say that no woman over suffered more." "I hope not," said Lord Castlsmafna "'then," continued Isabel, "comes your f aveeite, Lady Castlgmaiee. Ile THE 8 USSELS POST one oharecteristio seems to have been her bright, wonderfulbeauty—her tangle ing, coquettish nature, But what a short.tived triumph! While the icing wooed Jane Seymour, how she must have suffered in her turn all the agonies that she inflicted on Catharine I" "Jana Seymour must have been very beautiful," said Lady Castlomaine, "She was young, fresh, and fair, history says. I should think she was shrewd and calculating. She had seen a queen deposed to make room for Anne Boleyn, and she resolved that Anne should be deposed for her. I do not think that I Dare much for her ; a colorless character, I think," "Then comes a character whom no one loves—a character without romance or poetry—Anne of Cleves. I have often wondered where Cleves is." "She walked in and walked out of history," laughed Isabel Hyde. "Then Domes a wife for whom I have always felt greatest sorrow, sympathy, and pity —that pretty, wilful child, Catharine Howard ; she was but a child. I was reading somewhere, the other day, that the night before her execution her cries were so terrible and so appalling, that strong men who heard them trembled, "I wonder," Dried Lady Castlemaine, "that the whole nation did not rise up to a man and tear the monster from the throne. That is the most wonderful part of his history to me—that he was allowed to live." "Then comes the last wife of all, Catharine Parr. I always think of her as a motherly woman, dressed in gray or brown, and much given to Serious reading." "Perhaps on his death.bed," said Lady Castlemaine, "he saw the ghosts of his dead wives—Catharine, whom he tortured to death by breaking her heart; poor murdered Anne Boleyn ; Catharine Howard, slain in her early youth ; Jane Seymour, whom he forgot as soon as she was dead. Now, which of these wives did he love best ?" "Catharine of Aragon—there can be no doubt of it," said Lord Castlemaine. "She was the love of his life—they were but the loves of an hour." "Do you think a man ever has two loves in his life ?" asked Isabel Hydo, and she looked with a clear, straight glance into the earl's eyes. "No," was the prompt reply ; "every man has one love that is above all others, and which is never repeated;" and he, in his turn,looking at his beauti- ful young wife, seemed to say, "Such love as is mine for you." This did not please Isabel, who mild read his thoughts as plainly as she could hear the outspoken words of others. She turned the conversation back to its old channel. "I wonder," she said, slowly, "what people would do in these days if an English king behaved in such a way." "They would give him short shrift," said Lord Castlemaine, quickly. "Englishmen, in these days, would not stand by in silence, while a young and beautiful queen was beheaded," said Lady Castlemaine. "People would soon begin to want to know more of the 'divine right of kings'." "If we have the tableau," interrupted Isabel Hyde,"promise me that I shall be the wife the king loved best, Catha- rine of Aragon." "I will see to that," laughed Lord Castlemaine ; and Lady Castlemaine smiled as she said : "If the poor queen Catharine had been one half so fair as you, there would have been no Anne Boleyn." CHAPTER XVI. THE RIVAL . QUEENS. Never had the grand, old abbey of Neath been filled by such a crowd as that assembled there during the first week of the new year. It was a dream of fairy -land, a dream of delight. Tho night that every one enjoyed the most was the one devoted to tableaux vivants. It was the crown of all other festivities. The old abbey was brightly illumi- nated. The light from the numerous windows streamed out in great ruddy floods on the white, hard ground. The lights were so brilliant that they could be seen far away. The abbey was crowded with guests from far and near; the .neighbors who bad driven there caring little for the cold of the winter's night, caring little for the frost and the snow. Rumor had been busy, and much had been said about the beauty and magnificence of the tableaux, of the ram loveliness of the ladies who were to take part in them. Not an invitation was refused despite the disadvantage of wind and weather. Tho tableaux were to be held in what was once a • magnificent banqueting room, iu the days when the Castle - manes entertained the kings and queens of England. A more modern and smaller dining -room had long since been built, and the old banquet -hall was used as a ball -room or for private thoatriaale. I1 was an invaluable room at Christ - Mae time, for it would hold half the residents of the county. Such a room to dance in I There was no other like it. But to -night it presents distinctive features. There is a stage with crim- son curtains before it, row after row of easy -chairs and velvet'covered benches; there are magnificent decorations of flowers and Christmas evergreens; the great chandeliers are filled with wax tapers, and the light, though brilliant, is soft and pearly. Suoh an audience was gathered together -all the atistoe. racy for miles round, Half the county was there—young and pretty girls, fair and bonnie matrons, husbands and sons. It was, indeed, a brilliant gathering, Lady0attlemaine received her guests, then went away to prepare for the tableau!. She was, as usual, the most beautiful ant% graceful hostess, who had a smile and kind word for all, Everyone agreed that the arrange - meats were most perfect; nothing could What a lovely have been batter, h v y mix, tura of choice hob.house flowers and evergreens 1 The stage was as large as that of any theatre. The seats were all so comfortable and se well arranged, there was nothing but praise and admiring comments, Lady Castlemaine looked especially lovely on that occasion. She wore a superb dress of white satin, exquisitely trimmed with sprays of mistletoe, She wore the famous Castlemaine diamonds, and in the land there was none finer, she looked regal and beautiful, and all eyes followed her admiringly, The series of tableaux had been most beautifully arranged; no expense and no trouble had been spared. The first was from Millais' "Lex Huyueaots," that most pathetic of all pictures, wbere the Catholic maiden implores ber Protestant lover to tie the white handkerchief round his arm, that be may be saved from the massacre; but he will not, not oven to save his own life will he wear for one moment the emblem of a faith which he scorns. At first Lord Castlemaine and Isabel had been galled upon to take the two characters, but at the rehearsals it was decided that Isabel was too dark, that the girl should be represented by one who contrasted with him, one who was very fair and had golden hair—Lady Castlemaine. Every one pronounced it to be a perfect picture—the fair comeli- ness of the girl contrasting with the dark, proud beauty of the man ; the imploring, beseeching prayer on her face, the grim resolve on his. It was a lovely picture ; and when the curtain fell there was great applause. Lady Castlemaine trembled. "Rudolph," she said, "I did not know that one's whole soul went into these pictures, mine did. Rudolph, if you had been that Huguenot lover yon would have let me tie the scarf round your arm, would yon not?" He °aught her in his arms just for one moment, and kissed her with desperate passion. I would have done much for you, darling," he said. "I am not surd though, whether I could have done that." "I would have made you," she said. She raised her fair face to his and kissed him. There could be no mistake about the passionate love that husband and wife had for each other. Isabel's vow was not near its fulfil- ment yet. Then followed a scene from "Faust and Marguerite," beautifully arranged and highly applauded, which was fol. lowed by a picture from the "Lady of Lyons"—Claude Melnotte and Pauline. Pauline was one of the young lady visitors. Then came the four• tableaux that Lord Castlemaine had arranged, and which many had come especially to see. The first was Ring Henry the Eighth and his wife, Catharine of Aragon. He wore his royal robes, and a magnificent king he made. Queen Catharine, in a superb dress of velvet and ermine, a crown of diamonds on her dark hair, stood by his side. He was seated, she stood, with one hand on his shoulder, as though pleading with him. "Every incha queen," In her whole life Isabel Hyde bad never looked so royal, so beautiful. Her dress suited her to perfection ; the sweeping velvet, the rich ermine, the royal crown. Art could not have lent that rapt, loving expression to her face. Her eyes, as they rested on the lung, were lumi- nous with love, they expressed wifely devotion, womanly tenderness, passion- ate love, and yet although they said se much, they did not tell one-half of what lay in her heart. A beautiful pic- ture intended to represent the home. life of the icing and Queen Catharine. "Much too young for the part," was the general comment; "but how most exquisitely beautiful. What a face I what afigure 1" But the praise and homage were less than nothing to her; all she cared to see was one flash of admiration and love in the eyes of Lord Castlemaine. t, She did not see i and her own grew the brighter for their wistful ;loning. The curtains fell amid loud and sincere applause. Before anyone had time to come upon the stage, Isabel turned to leave, with a quick flash of her dark eyes. "You should try to look as though you loved me, at least when we aro on the stage together," sho said ; and before he uould give her an answer she was gone. The true moaning of her words did not strike him ; she was not quite like the ordinary run of young ladies, and be must make allowances. He laughed as she disappeared, but he would not have laughed had he known what was in her heart. Then came a beautiful picture. A story is told in legend, not m history, how Queen Catharine going suddenly into her drawing -room, found the king on his knees before Anne Boleyn. Neither of them knew of her entrance, and the king went on with his passion- ate, loving words. This was the second tableau of the series; some thought it was the most beautiful; the kneeling king with all the passion of his heart and soul in Iiia face ; Anne Boleyn with the light full on her lovely features, on her fair hair, her gleaming jewels and picturesque dress—the ex *melon of her facie, so sweet, so yielding, so loving. There stood the angryqueen, and for once in her life, Isabel Hyde allowed her whole nataro to speak in her face. Passionate lav@, passionate anger, pass- sonata despair Were all there. A face that was at once beautiful, yet terrible; the love of a lifetime, the love that i would neither count cost nor oxime was 7 there; there also was the passionate ro anger, rage and despair, mo bitter than death. A silence that was more impressive u followed. Therrible t than applause foil we o passion on that darji, tragic face could not so Soon be shaken off. The third tableau was taken from the scene known in history, 'abore Anne Boleyn, then reigning queen, finds the king embracing Jane Seymour, and knows—poor, hapless lady l—that her doom is sealed, Lady Castlemaine commanded ani, vernal attention; there was the same expression in her face that impressed the audience in Queen Catharine's pas- sionate love and despair. The fourth and last tableau was the beautiful and hapless Anne in her cell, the night before her execution—a pic- ture of unspeakable loveliness and pathos. The queen, in a long white robe, her hair lying like a veil over her shoulders, kneeling before a table, on which rested a portrait of the king. Was she thinking of his wild pursuit of her, of his ardent love, of his worship of her beauty ? How often the beauti- ful head that to.morrow would lie low in the dust bad been pillowed on his breast! Was she wondering to herself how he could slay her, when he had loved her so well ? Those who saw that picture never forgot it. When the curtain fell, and Lady Castlemaine rose from her knees, she was pale and trembling. "Rudolph," she cried, "a shadow has fallen over me. I wish I had not joined in these tableaux. I am not Anne Boleyn, I am Gertrude Castlemaine. You would not slay me, even if I did more than people say she did? You would forgive me and love me always, to the end? See how my bands trem- ble, and my heart has grown cold. Nothing could part us, could it, Rn- dolph?" "No, my darling," he replied, kissing the pale, beautiful face. "You have tired yourself. I will bring you a glass of champagne." She drank it, but the color did not come bank to her face. "I cannot think," she said, "what is the matter with me. As I knelt there, such a strange feeling came over me, as though what I was doing then was some faint foreshadowing of what would some day or other happen to me." He kissed the sweet lips, that trem- bled still. "Rudolph," she cried, suddenly, "do you think I shall ever kneel before your pictured face, with my heart broken at losing you ?" "No," he said, "Gertrude, darling, I will never have another tableau in the hope if they affect you inthis fashibn." Then Isabel came to them. "We are not only rival roses," she said, laughingly, "but we are rival queens, Gertrude." "Gertrude has made herself ill by giving her whole heart to the perform. ance." "I am quite sure," said Lady Castle. maino, "that I shall feel all night as though the scaffold was waiting for me in the morning." And although she did her best, that feeling remained with her during the rest of that brilliant evening. "I want to speak just one word to you, Lord Castlemaine, before you give up your kingship. Tell me once again, that I may remember, which of these wives of yours did you love the best ?" Isabel had met him, as it seemed, quite by accident in a narrow passage loading to the dressing-room—met him and stood still before him, holding his eyes, as it were, with her own, while she asked him the question. He was half startled for one minute, then he answered: "Catharine, to be sure." "Then I am glad "I was Catharine— slighted, despised, and repudiated as sho was, still I am glad that I was Catharine. I was queen to your king— I shall remember that." A vague thought that the ladies, some of them, must be on the point of insan- ity, came over Lord Castlemaine's mind, but he dismissed it. He was clever and keen, and the strange thing was that he had no idea, not the faintest suspicion, that Isabel Hyde was or had been in love with him. CHAPTER XVII. THE BALLS OF GOD. Most young married people take some time to understand each other, to fall into eaoh other's ways, to learn to for- bear, to be patient with each other's faults. Lord and Lady Castlemaine were no exception to the general rule. They had differences, of opinion. The husband, although he spoke impatiently at times to his wife, loved her passion- ately. Lady Castlemaine, although at times wanting in patience and kindness, had the same great devotion for her husband. They quarrelled sometimes, they dif- fered in opinion, they uttered a few sharp, hasty words ; then they kissed and made friends, just like other hus- bands and wives. They were perfectly happy in their married life—happy in the present, hopeful for the future. It was nearly the end of January bo - fore the gay party at Neath Abbey die. persed ; and up to that time Isabel Hyde had made no progress with the fulfilment of her vow. She was, if possible, more deeply in love with Lord Castlemaine than ever. The short, fleeting hours when, on the stage, she had acted the part of his wifo, had done het incalculabloharm. She mem- ed never to forget the event, and it led her into a half.familiar kind of manner with him that would have aroused the jealousy of some wives; but Lady ne,etlemaine never seemed to notice it. [T0 DE CONTINUED.) ofm CD • Wt pCp.� cn ti GI CD o`.✓ f p f2 P CD CD Cti H P e Z'°.' w ILD c+ ®CDPD CD ti CD W� 1"1 n �t ti CD ca ciq '8a 1-1 c+ CD : CfQ �-'bd Op 1-t 0 CD l..S I-0 CD 1:_1' Capp; p 10 ct }l....�� (DD V1F-+