Angelina: Or, The Mystery of St. Mark's Abbey — page 140: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

f Pi THE MYSTERY OF 8ST, MARK’S ABBRY. 127 ‘Ob, no, I’m sare he cannot,” observed Laura, “ my fathér peshemes tea affeotionate a heart to remain long iafi¢xihle. Sé come, my dear cousin, dry yeur teats, anil live ia hopes.” Our heroine shodk her head and sighed. ‘¢ Alas!’’ she réplied, “ what hope is there for ne.?—Has not my uncle commadded me to forget him #—Have I not promised that I will endeavour to ebey him, antl has he not told me that any dereliction on my part will only be productive ef misery to us allP—Nob, ne, there is dothing . but deeper for me !” Neither Mre. Woodfield or her deughter made any reply to these obsérvas tions, and after a pause, Aagelina continedd :-—- ** Wauld ta heaven we bad never met; what houts of anguish it would have saved as boths yes, hoth I say, for I am certain—my heart tells mo—that Clifford’s sentiments are as ardent and sincere as my own. Oh, he {t toe nobis; too generous, to deccive mz, and why shnuld I be athawed to ackadwiedge a vittueus passion? For a long time did I seek to deny my afevtion—evem to niyself—but I can no longer do to; Hugh Clifford, though Fate may divide us, my heart must ever be united to yours, while it shall threb with the pulses tion of life !”’ This was the first time that Angelise had ever sa openly divulged she sentiments that filled her bosom, and sbe felt relief from i. § From my véry soul, dearest child;’’ said her aunt, “from my very soal do I pity you, and woald that the power rested with me to make you happy, how readily—hew joyfully would I do ft; for thére is somethitig fm tle cottiten- arice and behaviour of Hugh Clifford, which convinces wie that he is -wofthy of you, in spite of his situation; dnd the Mystery which hahes over him. Never . theless, there tu to knowing What thme alay ef¥et; sd dhdedvour id cobipese Four feelings, and rest assured that——" “ Oh, tio, do,” interrapted Angelina,’ I thust Hat Hope, tert dd go wound be ¢@ disbbes tty uricle, and to break the prothisd 4 Wave Made 16 htt -] WH seek to think upon him only as a dear frient, Add thotivh iby Heart showid Gruuk in the dainfud Mregeté With avy feeligh, £ will -avt do Aye eatery t6.che Wishes df nity benefactor.” “ Yuu dre a goed git!,”* said the Uimt, “ dud ddserde-n Badter Weis |. Sut -f catinot felp thinking that seur unck is tod mystéfloes, dad tde efit”. - Wéu Wrong Hite ddr dubt—tddeed god do,” fervently ejucttnted Alyy. Kok; * my uriete hee certainly sinie powerftl nidtivés for his conduet, ddacts not By his awn WHI or fitclimatiuh. ‘He hay over been hind, frdulpéntecalt that 4 father could Be towards his child. But-now f thittk Of It, threfé eerthinty Bs i Heystery io hth cotiduct and his words that sitprises me; aid Which ‘I ath at a ides to unravel. Frum whit HE aril to you, nd whith FE overheard, thete appears to be some secret attached to my Hirth; whith he mitkt not-for thé pres dert divulge! What, in the ante of Heaven, can ‘It Be, atl for what ait ¥ reserved? ‘Phd wontan of thé rains, too, AMS Fepeatedily totd me -tHat FE am not what 2 svem (o bé, and has-tiken ati interdat fy-the, which adits té ‘the | mytitery by which I am sorrébndetd.”’ Mre. Wootlfidtd srénied greatly surprided aid: figitatee, bit she made itd inuwtedinte xaply. ‘6 I¢ is indeed strange and unaccountable,” at length she said, “ but belleve GOnMMGIOO @ SS (CO)