The Mysteries of the Court of London, Vol. 5 — page 147: what you’re looking at

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

ges wore a THE MYSTERIES @¥ THE COURT. = Qs Mees = oe = 8 a = ao 7s 6 WS eels Oe ee 6a ee ee 9 ego Vee, ciation well nigh intolerable whic h Florina thus what purpose? Surely not to gratify her vanity? suffered —or rathor a series of exeruciations' more | She who has had no re fulling at hor feet and aoli- peignant than any that bad ever previously entered | citmg her hand, needs not to vaunt the admiring into her young heart's experience. homage of a humble artist, fspecially if thi itgomage Presently, after having delivered herself of an | were nevor offered at all. But if not from vanity, immensely long, tirade of invectivos against the | wag it wickgdness? No, no—Lady Saxondale is ine youny artist, Lady Macdonald rang the bell furi- | capable of that. A worldly-fainded woman sho is; ously ; and when a footiman answered the summons, | but uot so thoroughly bluck-bearted. Oh! T am sho said, “When Mr. Deveril calls at the house | tortured with suspense--I am racked with uncer- again, you will tell him that his services can be dia- | tainty. Would to heaven thag I had never known pensed with for the future, and that if he will send | William Deveril at all—or at least, that I had never in his account a cheque shall be remittedforthe;lovedhiml” . ¢ gum,” Again did Florina’s tears flow thick and fast; and “Yes, my ‘lady,” was tho footman’s reply: and | her bosom was convulsed with sobs. | he quitted the room. “Oh! if he were really innocent after all,” she Florina felt av if hergheart must burst. She | continued in her musiogs, “what a frightful indig- gould endure this stdto of inward torture no longer; | nity is this which my aunt has ordered to be put and quitting the drawing-room, she hastened up to | upon him! To have the door shut in his fuce—to her own chamber, where she threw herself upon tho | be told to send in hjs bill Kke any tradesman who is couch and gave vent to her woe in s torrent of the discarded for insolence or some other fault——sond bitterest weeping. Long, Oh! far too long, poor heewens !eif Deveril bo innocent, I say, how keenly, girl, was that paroxysm of almoss mortal anguish,— | how deaply will he feol this insult! And this is not an anguish proportionate to the léve which she | all. His character will be ruined —Lady*Saxondaje experienced for Deveril—and that Ipve itsolf was | is sproading the story-—O0h ! she would not dare illimitable! When the violenco of hor. emotions | do this unless sh® bad just ground !—no, she would 1 soumowhat exhausted itself and she began to | not dare do it—it is too serious—and I fear—Oh! I col that she avas capable of serious reflection, she | fear, that Deveril is indéed faleo. Ah, why have I rose from the cou€h on which she had flung herself | loved him? There is not a. ‘book I ever read and in in her despair, And taking her seat on # sofa, en- ¢ which lovo is introduced, that it: jé not represented deavoured to reflect upon all that had occurred. as enduring the séverest trials. Why duts every She could not altogether beliove Lady Saxondale’s | poet depict love as ‘being thus tortured’? why ducs story; and yet she could not altogether doubt it. | every novelist describe i its aurrent as ndger flowing Sle fancied that there mua be sorte foundation for | smoothly ? Bogaahe: ‘the poot and the novelist draw it; but that her ladyship, either in her vanity or her | their inspirapinns fein: Shelfacts passing in the great anzor, had exaggerated many of the details. Deeply world bofore theif. even $" ‘hod therefore it is the truth and devotedly as Florina loved William Deveril, | which they delineate.‘ Oh! then this truth—thia and dreadful as it was to put. faith in a narrative so grand; atriking, and imperious truth, is that love. damnatory to his sincerity, yet the young lady, | must have fis trials, its sorrows, and its disappoint- inexperienced as she was in the ways of the world, ‘ménts—aye, and that the rose of love is too often could not possibly imagine that it was all false, and j,doomed to wéthor prematurely and perish befé.e its that instead of a wanton inconstancy being imputed Hime! Alas, would that I had nover allowed the to Deveril, it was a sheer wickodness that lay at the j fose of love to shed its fragrance upon my soul: it door of Lady Saxondala But though unable to | is @ fragrance which a blight turns into a plague- belicve in Deveril’s complete innocence, Florina was | mist, and which instils: poison whero it at first ap- not prepared to break off with him entirely without | peared to be only capable of shedding aweeta!” previously giving him an opportunity of explana-| In this manner mused the eunhappy Florina tion-vor justification, if possible. There was still Staunton, till at length her ideasreacheda pitch so far too much confidence in her love not to induce torturing, so thtolerable, that she felt she must do her to adopt this course; and though tortured by something in order to put an end to this state of horriblo doubts as she was, thore was likéwise too | mind.. She must know the truth at once; to lite much justice in her heart t5 permit the young | tossed upon the waves of uncertainty, were an Cx-. . damsel to condemn her lover Upon that purely onee | istence which she could not endure. If Deveril had sided statement. been guilty of qll that Lady Saxondale imputed to “And yet,” sho, ‘thought within herself, “ what him, the sooner Florina knew the worst the better: could he possibly aay in his defence? ‘Thore surely | sbe:could then summon all her fortitude to her aid, -mugt be some foundation for Lady Saxondale's state- | and endeavour to stifle her love in her heart. But if ments; and if that foundation, be ever so alight, it is | on the other hand William Deveril were ipnocent— neverthcless sufficient to frm a colossal monument of | if thrqugh misapprehension of his meaning at the } Deveril’s perfidy towards me. Oh! who would have | time, or if in the spirit of sheer wickedness Lady thought that when yesterday he knelt at my feet | Saxondale had-recited ber narrative—it was of the and poured forth the inapassioned language of _ Jove, | highest conseqnmnce th that Devoril should be informed he could so soon repeat the tale e where? It | of what was bein t him. Thus, in any secms impossible! it seems impossible! Not merely | case did Florina are how paramount it was that she is love outraged, but every idea of propriety—aend | should have an interview with Deveril. But how even nature itself! It cannot be true! No—De- | was this to be managed? ‘When he called at the veril is incapable of such conduct. It would stamp | house the door was ‘to be shut in his face. She him as falee-hearted, vile, profligate——And, Oh! | thou ght of writing to him: but if she proposed an who could believe him to be all thisP But Lady | appointment, where could they meet? The circum Baxondale—would sho invent such a story? For ]j stances in which the young lady found herself placed, 2 or ET ECOMMICOOOKS.EO