Agnes Vol. 2 — page 183: what you’re looking at

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

176 her « source of indescribable happiness! Now, then, Mr. Liargrave,” exclaimed the ingenuous and warm-hearted girl, “ you see that I full well recol- lect everything you told my father and me on that day when you introduced yourself to us after Agnoa had taken her departure.” “And now, my dear Corinna, you ate pre- pared to learn that I am fully satisfied with all the reports you have made to me?” ‘‘ How is it possible you could be otherwise P” ejaculated Corinna enthusiastically. “No: it is impossible !"——and it waa with almost an equal degree of enthusiasm that theso words were epoken. © Bat tell me, Corinna-—- have you the slightest suspicion of what I am about to say to you? Is there in your mind a presentiment———”’ “ Ah!” said Corinna, gazing earnestly up into her companion’s countenance: “there havo indeed been moments when I have suspected! Yea “perhaps now more than ever! Ob, heavens! if it were s0——”” “What—what is it that you suspect, my dear girl f what is it that you think ?’—~and it was in a woice fail of emotion that the questions wero pat, “Oh! am I right in calling you Mr. Har- grave?” asked Corinna: “ought I not rather to gall you by some other namoP For | think— Oh! I suspect———I scarcely dare speak it-————” “Yos, yos-—- epoak your thoughts, my dear girl! speak your thoughts freoly! By so doing you may spare me the excitement of a etudiec revelation 1” “Ob then, if I must speak my thoughts,” oried Corinna, “I should say that you are nof Mr. Har- grave, the friend of the deceased Mr. Morton Kvelyn—but that Mr. Morton Evelyn himself lives !—and though it seems as if I were thinking of the wild and the impossible, yet I should say that you are that same Morton Evelyn !—yes, you ere the father of Agnes !” Lord Ormsby took Curinna’s hand; and press- ing itin his cwn, he said, “ My dear girl, for the goodness of heart which you have shown from the very firet instant of my acquaintance with you, I wish you all possible happiness. Nay, moro! I will do all I can to promote it! You have told me all your little scorete; and heaven grant that you may yet enjoy long years of bliss with the young French gentleman who bas won your heart ! And it ia asa kinsman that 1 thus speak to you, Corinna !” “Ab, then,” she ejaculated, * my suspicion is correst—and you are Mr. Morton Evelyn!” “Yes—I am he,” replied Ormsby; “and I am the father of Agnes! And this day—indoed within the hour that is passing—shall I strain her in my arms!” Tears of joy streamed down Corinna’s cheeks ; : and she clung to Lord Ormsby’s arm for support, for she was ready to sink, overpowered by the emo- tions that were excited within hor. And then for the next quarter of an hour there was a deeply » serious discourse between the nobleman and Co- rinna: he revealed many things to her knowledge, and he gave her instructions how she was pre- sently to proceed in a task of the most delicate nature which he entrusted to her. They sepa- rated; and while Lord Ormeby roamed about for e AGES: OF, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE, whilo in the neighbourhood, the scene which wo are on the point of relating occurred within the walls of Sidvey Villa. Corinna returned to the garden, and took her little brother and sister indoors. Composing her countenance as wellas she was ablo, she entered the parlour where Apnes was seated. Thore was always a smile and a kind word from Miss Evelyn for Corinna; and the Neapolitan girl, taking the hand of her benefactress, exclaimed with enthusiasm, “Oh, my dear Agnes! how sweet it is to receive bounties from an angel such as you {” “My dear Corina,” she answered, “ you must not address mo in such language as this. Ihave often and often told you that you are not to con- sider youfself under such very great obligations to me; for at tho outset I was only performing a Christian duty—and then I conceived a great liking for you=—~" “T know it, dear Agnes!” interrupted Corinna, bending down and kissing our beauteous horaine’s cheek. “Bat perhaps it is not after all so vory, very astonishing that there should be this strong fecling between us; for there is a cortain degree of kinship-;—— ‘What mean you, my dear Corinna?” asked Agnos. “ Kinship did you say P” “Yes ;” and nuw our hegoine felt the two hands which rotained her own, trembling nervously. “It is truc, dear Agnes! You have heard me say that my mother was an Englishwoman. She belonged to the Morton family——that family which had intermarried with the Evelyns; and—and— dear Agnes!” added Corinna, diffidently and tremu- lously, “my poor mother was first cousin to your father {” “Ts this possible P’ exclaimed Agnes, full of wonderment and delight. “ITiow do you know that itiesoP But, Ah! Iam rejoiced, dear Co- tinna, to find a relative’in one whom I alroady loved! Alas, my poor father, who bas so long been dead ——” “Say not so, dear Agnes!” interjected Corinna. “Long lost to you, no doubt ;—but not dead !’” “ Oorinne !’”’ ejaculated our heroine, starting up, full of nervous trepidation, from her seat, “ there is something more in all this than I can anticipate! What do you mean? Tell me, my dear friend |— keep me not in suspense, | conjure you *” “ Have you never thought, dear Agnes, that it is possible your father might bo alive?” asked Corinna. “ Yos—possible ! just possible! barely possible !” rejoinod Agues, with feverish excitement: and then sho instantaneously added in a mournful tone, “ But by no means probable!” “And why not probable, Agnes?” inquired Corinna. ‘Good heavens! if you know somothing,” cried our heroine, “speak! speak! And now 1] again think you do! Oh, yes! it again strikes me that there is something significant in your words and in your looks! Tell me, Corinna-———” “Pray do not excite yourself, dear Agnes!” tne terrupted the Neapolitan girl. ‘“ I was only say- ing that such strange things take place in this world———such, for instance, as the discovery that thore is a certain bond of kinship between your- self and me——” GORGE OOO OY <S (©