The Mysteries of London, Vol. IV — page 240: what you’re looking at

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

THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON. veyed, “ Thoro is a mystery—a deep mystery at- tached to the fair recluse,—and what that mystery is, 1am myself completely ignorant. But that the father of Agnes has no such intention as the ono _you imagined, and that Agnes herself has as yot never known the passion of love,—these aro facts to which I do not hesitate to pledge myself most solomnly.” ~ Qh! then there is indeed room for hope!” ox- claimed Lord William, his countenance brightenin$ up and joy flashing in his cyes. “A nobleman in your position—blessed with wealth and a handsome person—endowed with agreeable manners and a cultivated mind,” said Mrs. Mortimer, “ necd not despair of winning the love and securing the hand of a maiden dwelling in uttor obscurity and totally unacquainted with the world,” “T would rather that sho shonld learn to love mo for my own sako, madam,” observed Lord William, ‘ina serious tone, “than for any adventitious ad- vantages of rank or social position that I may possess,” “Well, my lord—we shall sce,” said Mrs. Mor- timer, rising to depart. “ To-morrow morning I will call for the letter; and I shall procced straight ovor to tho cottage: in tho afternoon, or evening, I will do myself tho honour of waiting upon your lordship again,” “YT shall expect you with impatience, madam,” returned Trevelyan, as lie politely hastenod to open the door for her. Mrs. Mortimer took her leave; and the young nobleman sate down to pen ao letter to Agnes Vernon. But this was not so casy a matter as he had an- ticipated. Shect after sheot of paper did ho spoil,— a hundred times did he commonce—and as often did ho throw asido bis pen in despair. Now ho fancied that his stylo was too bold—then he conccived it to bo too tame and vague: now heimaginced himself to bo too complimentary in his language towards one possessing a mind s0 chaste and pure—then ho felt assured that he was acting indiscreetly to writo at all, Tn the course of an hour ho was swayed by such au infinite varicty of conflicting sontimonts and impressions that he was almost inclined to throw up the task in despair, At length, however, he mado a beginning which pleased him; and his pen then ran fluently enough over the paper, until the letter was composed in the following manner :— “Pardon a stranger who dares to address you, beautiful Miss Vernon, in a strain that might give you offence, werehe not sincere in his language and honourable in his intentions: —pardon me,I implore you—andrefuse not to read these few lines to the end! He who thus writes fs the individual that you have observed occasionally in the vicinity of your dsell- ing; and you will perceive by the signature to this Ictter that he is not a man without ostensible guarantees for lis social position, That lits character is unimpeachable he can proudly’ declare; and that he will not address to you, Miss Vernon, @ single word which he will fear to ropeat in your father’s presence, he solemnly declares. ‘Let me, however, speak of myself in the first person again: let me assure you that your beauty has captivated my heart~and that, if anything were wanting to render me your slave, the description which the bearer of this letter has given me of your amiable quallties, would be more than sufficient. Jam rich—and therefore I have no selfi-si motive in address- ing yon, even if you be rich also: but J would rather that it were otherwise with you, so that my present preeeed- ing may appear fo you the more disinterested. Had I any Oe ee ee ee rere 23h —_—_—_—_—_—_————_—_—_— means of obtaining an introduction to you, beautiful Bier Vernon, I should not have adopted a measure that gives me pain because I tremble lest it shoniId wound or offend you. But mine is an honest—a sincere—and a devoted attachment; and I shall be happy indecd if you will permit me to open & correspondence with your father on the subject. Were he to honour me with a visit, I shonld be proud to receive him. But if, in the meantime, you seek to know more of me—if J might venture to solicit you to accord me an interview of only a few minutes, you cannot divine how fervently I should thank you—how delighted I should feel! Let this interview take place in the presence of Mrs. Mortimer, if you will: J have nothing to communicate to you that Ishould hesitate to say before your father or your friends. convince you of my sinccrity ?—how can I testify my devo- tiun ?—how can I prove the extent of my love? Oh! how can I “IT beseech you to reflect, Miss Vernon, that my happiness depends upon your reply. Am I guilty.of an indiscretion in loving you? Love is a passion beyond mortal control! Ho who knows no other deity, deserves not blame for wor- shipping the sun, because it is glorious and bright; and my heart, which knows no other idol, adores you, because you are beautiful and good. Treat not my conduct, then, with anger: Ict not your pride be offended by the proceeding Which I have adopted in order to make my sentiments known to you;—and scorn not the honest—the pure—the ardent affection which an honourable man dares to proffer you. Ido not merit punishment because I love you ;—and your silence would prove a pnnishment severe and unde. scryed indeed! Again, I conjure you to remember that the happiness of a fellow-creature depends upon you: your deci= sion will cither inspire me with the most joyous hope, or plunge me into the deepest despair. <At the same time, beauteous Agnes,— (the words—those delightful words, * beautleous Agnes,’ are written now, and I cannot—will not erase them)—nat the same time, I say, if your affections bo already engaged—if a mortal more blest than myself have received the promise of your hand,—accopt the assuranco, sweet maiden, that never more shall you be molested by mc —never again will I intrude myself upon your attention. For with my love is united the most prefound respect; and not for worlds would Ido aught to excite an angry fecling in your soul. * Your ardent admirer and devoted friend, ‘WILLIAM TREVELYAN,” With this letter the young nobleman was satis- fied. Ife considered it to be sufficicntly energetic, and at tho samo timo respectful: he saw nothing in it against which the purest mind could tako excep- tions; and, in the sanguine confidence natural to his ago, and to the honourable candour of his disposition, ho already looked upon his aims as half accom- plishod—his aspirations as half gained. Having scaled and addressed tho letter, he placed it upon the mantel-piece ready for Mrs. Mortimer when sho should cajl in the morning: thon, fotching a portfolio from an inner room, he opencd it, and from amongst several drawings in water-colours, selected one on which kis gaze was immodiatoly rivotted with deep and absorbing interest. For that painting—executed by his own hand— Was a portrait of Agnes Vernon; and oven the most fastidious critic, if acquainted with the original, must have pronounced it to be a living likoness. Yes: on that paper was delineated, with the most perfect accuracy, tho fair countonance of tho Recluse of the Cottage,—overy feature—oyory lincamont drawn with a fidelity to which only ao ‘first-rate artist, or an amateur whose poncil was guided by the finger of Love, could have possibly attained. There were the eyes of deep blackness and melting softness,—there was the high, intelligent forchead,— there was tho raven hair, silken and glossy, and seeming to flow luxuriantly ovon in the vory picture, —-and thore was the rich red mouth, wearing a smilo such as ihortals behold upon the lips of angels iu —_— —s— —-. — os a _— a wre ee ee, (C(O) (C DOO <S LL (SO)