Dearest Isabel:—I write this in haste, and with a sad heart, for instead of being on my journey to see your sweet face once more, I am suddenly ordered back to Flanders with despatches for the commander in chief. You may judge of your Edward’s feelings, to have the cup of bliss thus dashed from his lips at the very moment when he had thought a disappointment impossible. Oh! if I knew that you still thought of me, love, as you once said with your own sweet lips that you did, I would depart with a lighter heart. God only knows when I shall see you. But the king’s messenger has come for me, and I must go. Farewell, dearest. I have kissed the paper over and over again. Farewell, again, and again.
Here the words of the reader became once more undistinguishable; but had they continued audible, Lorraine could have heard no more. A fearful truth was breaking in upon him. His brain was like fire: his heart beat as if it would snap its bonds asunder. He staggered to a tree, for a faintness was coming over him. Big drops of agony rolled from his brow, and he placed his hand to his forehead, like one awaking from delirium. At length he found words for his woe.
“No no, it cannot be,” he exclaimed “it was all a dream. Yes! it is too, too true. But I will not, cannot believe it, unless I hear it from her own lips,” and starting forward, with sudden energy, the page placed his hand upon the shrubbery, and pushing it aside with superhuman strength, he stood the next instant panting before his cousin.
Astonished at his unexpected appearance, Isabel started back with a suppressed shriek; but on recognising the intruder, her fear gave way to confusion. The blood mounted in torrents over brow, neck, and bosom; and hastily crushing the letter in her hands, and concealing it in her dress, she paused hesitatingly before her cousin. His quick eye detected the movement, and rushing forward, he flung himself at the feet of Isabel.
“It is then true—true—true,” he exclaimed passionately, “my ears are not deceived, and you love another. Is it not so Isabel?” The maiden averted her head, for she saw at once that she had been overheard, and she could not endure the boy’s agonised look. “Oh! Isabel, dear, dear Isabel, say it is untrue. Only say I was mistaken, that it was all a dream, that you still love me as you used to love me.”
