The Mysteries of London, Vol. IV — page 89: what you’re looking at

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

82 a ee eee Ah! that belicf would denote a boundless vanity on my part;—and yet women have their sudden caprices —their instantaneous attechments, as well ag men! Yes—it must be so—Perdita loves me!—she loves me—and I already love her deceply—madly, In re- turn!” But scarcely had these thoughts passed through his brain, when his heart smote him painfully — severely,—reproachipg him with his treachery to- wards Lady Frances Ellingham, and suggesting a comparison between the retiring, bashful beauty of this charming young creature, and the warm, impas- sioned, bold loveliness of the syren Perdita. The more Charles Hatfield pondered upon the strange scene that had taken place in Suffolk Strect, tho less satisfied did he feel with himself. THe saw that his conduct had been rash, precipitate, and thoughtless; —and yet there was something so pleasurable in what he blamed himself for, that he was not altogether contrite. Indeed, he felt—he admitted to his own secret soul, that had he the power of recalling the last two hours, he should act precisely in the same rnanner over again, For when he thought of Perdita,—re- membered her witcheries—dwelt on her faultless charms~and recalled to mind the mystic fascination of her language and the delicious tones of her voice, —his imagination grew inflamed—his blood ran rapidly and hotly in his veins—and it seemed that were sho Satan in female shape, he could sell his soul to her! It was late when he returned to Ellingham House; and he repaired at once to hischamber. But ho could not sleep: the image of Perdita haunted him ;—and were if not so unscasonable an hour he would have returned to Suffolk Street under pretence of soliciting the promised revelations from Mrs. Fitzhardinge. When he retired to rest, and sleep did at last visit his eves, that beautcous image followed him in his dreams. He thought that he was seated by the side of the witching fair one on tho sofa, and that she was reclining, half-embraced, on his breast, with her coun- tenance, flushed and wanton in expression, upturned towards his own. This delicious position appeared to last for a long—long time, neither uttering a word, but drinking deep draughts of love from each other’s eyes. Then he fancied that he stooped to press his lips to her delicious mouth ;—but at that instant the lovely face changed—clongating, and undergoing so horrible a transformation that his eyes were fixed in appalling fascination upon it,—while, at the same time, he be- came sensible that the soft and supple form which: he held in his arms was undergoing a rapid and signal change likewise,—till the w hole being, lately so charm- ing, so tender, and so loving, was changed into a hideous serpent. <\ terrible cry escaped him—and he awoke! The rays of the gorgeous sun were streaming in at the window, as Charles Hatfield started from his slum- ber; and, to his surprise, he found his father standing by the side of the bed. “ You have been labouring under the influence of an unpleasant dream, Charles,” said Mr. Hatfield, taking his son’s hand. “ Yes—"twas indeed a hideous dream!” exclaimed the young man, shuddering at the idea which still pur- sucd him. “And was that dream ao reflex of any thoughts which occupy vou when awake? ” asked his father, in a kind and anxious tone. Charles suryeyced his parent with astonishment, and then becams absolutely crimson in the face;—for this | ——— TIIE ALYSTERIES OF LONDON. -=_— = =e — ae ! early and unusual visit seeiaed to imply that its object was in some way connected with matters that had ° SS a pt gp a i i ry > NN lately been occupying, as the reader knows, no incon- siderable share of the young man’s reflections ~ we mean, the family secrets into which he had so strangely penetrated. “Yes, Charles,” continued Mr. Hatfield; “I feared that you had something upon your mind; and your manner now confirms that apprehension. For the last week you have not been the same gay, happy, lively being you so lately were;—and, although you have endeavoured to conceal your sorrow from observation, yet it has not ‘escaped the eyes of your affectionate mother and myself. Tell me, Charles—tell me can- didly, I implore you—is it in consequence of the discovery that we aro your parents, and not mere relatives ——” “Oh! my dear father,” exclaimed the young man, “that discovery made me happy, I solemnly assure you!” “ Then wherefore are you melancholy and thoughtful at times?” asked Mr. Hatfield, in a tone of deep interest. “Melancholy and thoughtful!” repented Charles, mechanically. “Yes, my dear son: andeven at this moment——” “even at this moment,” still repeated Charles, whose imagination was wandering to Suffolk Street, the influence of his dream having been to fill his soul with a more profound terror than he had ever before experienced from the worst of sleep’s delusions. “Yes—even at this moment you are abstracted— your ideas aro unsettled—and there is a wildness in your looks which terrifies mol” cried Mr. Hatfield, speaking with strong emphasis and in an earnest manner. “Charles! again I implore you to tell me the cause of this change which has so lately come over you!’ “Dear father, why will you press me on the sub- jecte” cried the young man, now brought to himsel/, yet knowing not how to reply. “ Oh! believe me— believe me, it will be Letter for us both that you do not persist in questioning me!” “On the contrary, Charles,” returned Mr. Hatfield, speaking more seriously and firmly than before, “it will be far more satisfactory to me—yes, and to your mother also—to be made the depositors of your seerct cares. You have assured me that you are not unhappy on account of the discovery made on the day when the Prince of Montoni was received at Court; and therefore I must conjecture the existence of some other cause of grief. Charles, my dear boy,” added his father, gazing steadfastly upon him, © you love Lady Frances—and you are fearful of avowing your passion ?” The young man had expected that his father was about to speak on some of those family matters into the mysterious depths of which le had penetrated; and, therefore, when Mr. Hatfield addressed to him that species of interrogative accusation, Charles ex- perienced a relief which betrayed itself as well in the brightening up of his countenance as in the surprise wherewith he regarded his parent. “Ah! now I have penetrated your secret!” cried the latter: then, wringing his son’s hand, he said im- pressively, “Fear nothing-—but hope every thing, Charles;—and if you have reason to believe “hat Lady Frances reciprocates your attachment, hesitate not to offer her your hand.” With these words, Mr. Hatfield hurried from the (SO) GIOOKS (SO)