After some moments of irresolution, Auriol once more took up the
pocket-book, and deposited it in the writing-desk, in which he found, as
he had been led to expect, a deed conveying the house to him. He then
opened the note lying upon the table, and found its contents accorded
with what had just been told him. Placing it with the pocket-book, he
locked the writing-desk, exclaiming, "It is useless to struggle
further--I must yield to fate!" This done, he went into the adjoining room, and, casting his eyes about,
remarked the antique bottle and flagon. The latter was filled to the
brim--how or with what, Auriol paused not to examine; but seizing the
cup with desperation, he placed it to his lips, and emptied it at a
draught. A species of intoxication, but pleasing as that produced by opium,
presently succeeded. All his fears left him, and in their place the
gentlest and most delicious fancies arose. Surrendering himself
delightedly to their influence, he sank upon a couch, and for some time
was wrapped in a dreamy elysium, imagining himself wandering with Edith
Talbot in a lovely garden, redolent of sweets, and vocal with the melody
of birds. Their path led through a grove, in the midst of which was a
fountain; and they were hastening towards its marble brink, when all at
once Edith uttered a scream, and, starting back, pointed to a large
black snake lying before her, and upon which she would have trodden the
next moment. Auriol sprang forward and tried to crush the reptile with
his heel; but, avoiding the blow, it coiled around his leg, and plunged
its venom teeth into his flesh. The anguish occasioned by the imaginary
wound roused him from his slumber, and looking up, he perceived that a
servant was in attendance. Bowing obsequiously, the man inquired whether he had occasion for
anything. "Show me to my bedroom--that is all I require," replied Auriol, scarcely
able to shake off the effect of the vision. And, getting up, he followed the man, almost mechanically, out of the
room. CHAPTER IV

EDITH TALBOT


It was late when Auriol arose on the following morning. At first,
finding himself in a large and most luxuriantly-furnished chamber, he
was at a loss to conceive how he came there, and it was some time before
he could fully recall the mysterious events of the previous night. As
had been foretold, however, by Rougemont, his position did not cause him
so much anxiety as before. After attiring himself, he descended to the lower apartments, in one of
which a sumptuous breakfast awaited him; and having partaken of it, he
took a complete survey of the house, and found it larger and more
magnificent even than he had supposed it. He next supplied himself from
the pocket-book with a certain sum, for which he fancied he might have
occasion in the course of the day, and sallied forth. His first business
was to procure a splendid carriage and horses, and to order some new and
rich habiliments to be made with the utmost expedition. He then proceeded towards May Fair, and knocked at the door of a large
house at the upper end of Curzon Street. His heart beat violently as he
was shown into an elegant drawing-room, and his trepidation momentarily
increased, until the servant reappeared and expressed his regret that
he had misinformed him in stating that Miss Talbot was at home. Both she
and Mr. Talbot, he said, had gone out about half-an-hour ago. Auriol
looked incredulous, but without making any remark, departed. Hurrying
home, he wrote a few lines to Mr. Talbot, announcing the sudden and
extraordinary change in his fortune, and formally demanding the hand of
Edith. He was about to despatch this letter, when a note was brought him
by his servant. It was from Edith. Having ascertained his new address
from his card, she wrote to assure him of her constant attachment. Transported by this proof of her affection, Auriol half devoured the
note with kisses, and instantly sent off his own letter to her
father--merely adding a few words to say that he would call for an
answer on the morrow. But he had not to wait thus long for a reply. Ere
an hour had elapsed, Mr. Talbot brought it in person. Mr. Talbot was a man of about sixty--tall, thin, and gentlemanlike in
deportment, with grey hair, and black eyebrows, which lent considerable
expression to the orbs beneath them. His complexion was a bilious brown,
and he possessed none of the good looks which in his daughter had so
captivated Auriol, and which it is to be presumed, therefore, she
inherited from her mother. A thorough man of the world, though not an unamiable person, Mr. Talbot
was entirely influenced by selfish considerations. He had hitherto
looked with an unfavourable eye upon Auriol's attentions to his
daughter, from a notion that the connection would be very undesirable in
a pecuniary point of view; but the magnificence of the house in Saint
James's Square, which fully bore out Auriol's account of his
newly-acquired wealth, wrought a complete change in his opinions, and he
soon gave the young man to understand that he should be delighted to
have him for a son-in-law. Finding him so favourably disposed, Auriol
entreated him to let the marriage take place--within three days, if
possible. Mr. Talbot was greatly grieved that he could not comply with his young
friend's request, but he was obliged to start the next morning for
Nottingham, and could not possibly return under three days. "But we can be married before you go?" cried Auriol. "Scarcely, I fear," replied Mr. Talbot, smiling blandly. "You must
control your impatience, my dear young friend. On the sixth day from
this--that is, on Wednesday in next week--we are now at Friday--you
shall be made happy." The coincidence between this appointment, and the time fixed by
Rougemont for the delivery of his victim, struck Auriol forcibly. His
emotion, however, escaped Mr. Talbot, who soon after departed, having
engaged his future son-in-law to dine with him at seven o'clock. Auriol, it need scarcely be said, was punctual to the hour, or, rather,
he anticipated it. He found Edith alone in the drawing-room, and seated
near the window, which was filled with choicest flowers. On seeing him,
she uttered an exclamation of joy, and sprang to meet him. The young man
pressed his lips fervently to the little hand extended to him. Edith Talbot was a lovely brunette. Her features were regular, and her
eyes, which were perfectly splendid, were dark, almond-shaped, and of
almost Oriental languor. Her hair, which she wore braided over her brow
and gathered behind in a massive roll, was black and glossy as a raven's
wing. Her cheeks were dimpled, her lips of velvet softness, and her
teeth like ranges of pearls. Perfect grace accompanied all her
movements, and one only wondered that feet so small as those she
possessed should have the power of sustaining a form which, though
lightsome, was yet rounded in its proportions. "You have heard, dear Edith, that your father has consented to our
union?"