Angelina: Or, The Mystery of St. Mark's Abbey — page 239: what you’re looking at

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

26~C«S ANGELINA$ OR, One particular circumstance we have forgotten to mention, and that is, when Sir Eustace, through the false accusation which had been brought agaiast him, was compelled to fly his country, he became unavoidably estranged from the Baron and Baroness De Morton, who retired to their castle, and not long after he had been over in Flanders, he received intelligence of the sudden and mys- terious disappearance of the baron, and to his most indescribable amazement and disgust, a short time only elapsed when he heard that Matilda had actually aecepted.the hand of her deceased husband’s brother, who had been one of his greatest enemies at Court, and to whom she had previeusly ever evinced the. utmost repugnance, So thunderstruck was he with this intelligence, that he was some time before he would believe that it was true, but when he was fully convinced that such was the case, he became so exasperated, that he resolved to endeavour to erase her name from his recollection for ever. The circum- stance of the supposed death of the baroness has already been méntioned, and having now fully explained the melancholy events of Sir Eustace Arlingham’s life, we must let the Lady Emmeline explain herself in her own words, as they were spoken to her brother on the night when she revealed herself to him. CHAPTER XXXIII. <¢ Rusvace,” commenced Lady Emmeline, “‘ I am certain you will pity me, I know yon must heartily feel for me, when you hear my painful narrative, for the sufferings to which 1 have, I can safely say, been most undeservedly sub- jected, and the wnjust aspersiens that have been cast upon my character. To you, Eustace, must I also attribute much blame, for so hastily condemning her to whom, I had ever cause to believe, you were so fondly attached, and who never gave you any reason to suspect her capable of acting in any way. dis- honourable to the name of Arlingham, or to that noble house to which I had allied myself.. Oh! my brether, did you but know the nights, the days, the hours of intease, of indescribable anguish which I have for so many years en- dured, and yet, amidst it all, how constantly my prayers were offered up for you, and that dear girl whom I loved as fondly as if she had been mine own - offspring, how sincerely would you reproach yourself for-———but, no matter, let me pass this painful subject over as quickly as possible! Heaven knows you have had your share of affliction, and I ought not to reproach you after the dreadful confession which the unfortunate, the ill-fated Amabel made to you on her death-bed. Onr’s has been an unfortunate family, Eustace; marked, as it were, by fate to be its sport,—-buffetted about as its caprice. But I become _ tedious. Alas! the recollection of the many sorrows I have endured, so be- wilder my mind, that I scarcely know what I am talking about, | ‘I am ready to admit, Eustace, that I was wrong in one thing, and that was in not making you acquainted with the sentiments I had imbibed for Sir Vin- cent, when you urged the suit of Lerd Dalton ; but at the same time you should not have enforced me to unite my fate with a man whom J had candidly ac- Knowledged to you I could not love, although I could sincerely esteem him ap | a friend. Had you not been so peremptory, and had I not been 50 tenacious of COMIC OOOKS. EO