19. XIX.
OLD MEMORIES.
WHILE these scenes were occuring at the Ordinary,
the master of Greenway Court, leaned back
in his tall carved chair, absorbed in gloomy
thought.
His pale face indicated some concealed emotion—his lips
were contracted sorrowfully, and the long eyelashes rested
on his pallid cheek. He remained long thus buried in
thought; and then wearily rose erect in his seat and
sighed.
“Strange! very strange!” the Earl muttered, “that fatal
likeness! Never have I seen reproduced in human face a
more perfect resemblance to another! Falconbridge? Falconbridge?
Whence does he come? Pshaw! why should
I wish to find out? 'Tis one of those fancies which
seize on men at times: and yet I swear, as I bent
over him, when something drove me in the dead of night to
his chamber, I could have taken my oath that the face was
the very same—eyes, lips and everything! How like, too,
the courage which made him spring up and pursue me!
There I recognize the likeness again, as in the form—in the
spirit as in the outward lineaments. Strange world!—
strange life!”
And for some moments the Earl remained silent, his
breast shaken with sighs; his lips quivering. Then he
seemed to realize the folly of his emotion: and by a great
effort controlled himself.
“What madness!” he murmured, “thus to yield to the
ghost of the past, and shake like Hamlet at a shadow! I'll
be stronger and colder. He will come to-day or to-morrow,
and I must not excite attention by my manner. I must govern
myself. Yes—the past must be buried: it is gone.
Why rake in the ashes for burnt out hopes and memories?
I am thousands of leagues from the scenes of other days
—let me not recall them; let them sleep!”
And rising, the Earl put on his hat and gloves, and followed
by his stag-hounds, wandered forth to the prairie, still
pondering, and pursuing his secret thoughts.
