The Mysteries of the Court of London Vol. 4 — page 400: what you’re looking at

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

a a —ee——— Eee eee eee mpeg cect pemmesthen en TNT TSS T E E s Rey aS as om SO a SR I ae a CS AL <a FO aR: CE IT gga 7 7 TT _ ‘nniiisitniaaia _ eS oe eee oe OE AS Se TOR eee ee eee ee weet hee Ge en eee eee es eee —— ae lke um THE MYSTERIE® OF THE COURT. 387 e Oe which, together .with those of several of the other | taking her hand, he spoke in the fo'lowing’man- unfortunate passengers, had been washed ashore, | ner :— Accovdingly, on the fourth day after the citas- | “ Miss Owen, we are about to part; .and you trophe Mary quitted ler thamber ; and now she | will forgive me if under the very peculiar circum- met har kind friend for the first time siice she | stances of the case, I address you in language had been borne to the hotel. *We will nog pause | which, in the afflicted state of your mind, oaly such to detail the terms in which She expressed her | circumstances as those to which I have alluded gratitude to this young gentleman: suffice it to | could possibly warrant. We must notregard cach Or 45 CEN aren. 4 ee weer eee ae — say that even in the depth of her affidtion, he dis- | other as the mere acquaintances of a few days, | covered traits in her charagter which rivetted the | All that has happened has tended to level the sympathy he had previously exper.enced in her | formalities of months and years, and to mike us | behalf, and convinced him she was altogether very | friends, But there is a still more tender feeling differeut ig conduct and in principles from her.’ than even friendship in my heart; and if your three uvfortunate sisters who lay buried iu the | affections sere previously disengaged, perhaps —— eee ee i eee en cemetery at Geneya. On the present occasign, | When you have leisure and inclination to reflect — also, was it that Mary for the “first time learnt the | upon what 1 now say, you will write to me from naive of the Englishmau~—and this yame was! England and tel! me candidly and frankly whether Theodore Varian. you think that by accepting me as your husband, Ju the most delicate manner did Theodore be- ; you will be contributing to your own happineus? seech Mary to entrustehim with the superintep- | 1 seek no answer now: wery fur am J from press- deuce of her mother’s funeral; and the poor girl ing you for one. gNothiny, I repeat, but the pecu- was too grateful for the offer not to yield a ready . liar circumstances under which we have inet and assent. When the cbsequies were over, her mind , under which we are about to part, could justify speedily recovered much of its former firmness of , meineven making this avowal of attachment when tone: for when she was enabled to si? down and ' all your griefs are fresh in your soul.” reflect, in the solitude of her own chamber, upon: Theodore paused; and though Mary spoke not, the catastrophe which hat left her an orphan in but looked down wich tearful eyes, yet the blush the wide world, the conviction insensibly grew! which rose to her cheeks, and the trembling of upon her that after alleit might be a humane and. her hand which she suffered to remain in his own, wise dispensation of Providence. For how could, gave him the gratifying assurauce that his suit Mrs. Owen have ever enjoyed an hour’s tran-' was not rejected. quillity upon earth agato, after. the fiightful; “Iam establ-hed in Geneva,” he said, “as the tragedies which had depriyed her of her three! manager of a mercantile emporium connected ‘eldest daughters? As fur happiness—ékat never | with a great commercial firm in London. It was cuuld have been her lot !—and to have lingered on | business relating to my affairs at Geneva which a miseruble existence, dragging herself as it were | made me a passenger to Lausanne on board the over the thorny pathways of remorse,—Oh! such | ill-fated packet the other day. I shall retara tu & fate would hase been awfal indeed ! Geneva immediate’y I have seem you safe on your It was such a train of meditatiunos as these which | jeurney away from Laosanne. My address at led poor Mary to accept with resigned feeling per own orphan destiny ; and the longer she reflected thereon, the more serene grew her martyrized iniud. But now what course was she to adopt? The boxes containing her clothes and the money which her mother bad brought with her from Eugland, had been engulfed in the lalfe: but the Geneva I shall bey leave to place in your hands: and pardon me —pardon me—ir [say that te days and thewecks will be counted with some degree of anxiety amd suspense until l receive a letter from you, You tell mo thet you are goiny to seck an asylum with kind relateves whom you have in England? [ also have a very dear, dear relative generosity of Theodore Varian, delicately exercised | in our native land—a sister—who has recently through the medium of the Jandlady of the hotel, | teen married to Sir Douglas Huntingdon. They. had not only furnished Mary with all the funds reside in Londoa; and should unforeseen circun- requisite fur the refitting of her wardrobe, but; etancea place you in a position to desire a hume likewise for the disbursement of the fyneral charges with an affectiouate friend, my sister Ariadne will and the hotel expenses. Even to the doctor's fees | rgceive you with open arms for my sake. You will and the nurse’s wages, everything was liquidated. | allow me to give you a letter to Sir Douglas aud Of course it was neither consisten® with Mary’s | Lady Huutingdon—it may be serviceable.’ sense of delicacy or good feeling to continue de- peudent upon the young Englishman any loager than her circumstances rendered necessary. But whither should she go? What should she do? Her eyes were naturally directed towards Eng- “Mr. Varian,” answered Mary, vow at length breaking silence, but speaking in a voice which showed how deeply she was moved by the kind ee — ee ee ee eee ee eee oe ee oe eee oe —_—w sc =e ow — = = = a i eee ee EE a Se ee language, the delicate manner, and at the same time the frank avowal of Theodore,—*in the 6ame land, where her auut Migs Stanley would, she knew | way that pecullar circumstances ifave led you to address ine in terms which are not only fatterinz full well, receive her with open arms, aud where she was suce of experiencing a cordial welcome and sweet sympathy from her cousins Lady Sack- ville aud the beautiful Louisa, She accordingly took an early opportunity of making Theodure Varian acquainted with her in- tentions, which he of course could not sossibly oppose. Whenshe had done speaking, be gazed upon her pale but beautiful cofutenance with a | anguish. bat also deserve my sincerest gratitude, s0 wast f be held exonerated fromm indiscretion if I respond with equa! candour. You have saved my life: it is a life, then, that Lowe you. But you have not only saved this life of mime—yoh have done all that a generous friend could du to make it tuler- able in the first hours and days of my bitter I feel—QOh! I feel the immensity of the look of tender interest god admiration :—saud then, obligation which 1 owe you: yes—and | feel algo, in 2 a ee ALC () AOC) < S)