The Mysteries of the Court of London, Vol. 5 — page 368: what you’re looking at

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

A II, 2 eT NE CE ES eT! a a eee Giese eee THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. ee Cy gaured the medital man, in accents that were low, ‘in a grave and mour deep, and fal} of horror. “If you have evor loved me, Dr? Ferney,” said Oo cee eee PERE SO - Spader Gee oe We tum or nful voico, “I could not do you an injury—no, I could not! I feel that I must visk everything and dare everything, alike here and ee the wretched Lady Saxondale, sinking upon her | hereafter, sooner than involve you in peril. But, Oh! Lady Saxondale, for heaven's sako take warn- . knees before him, “cguid you find it in your hear? ‘| to send me to the scg old ?” There was a burst of anguish from Dr. Ferney’s lips: and starting from his seat, he bogan pacing the room to and, fro in terrible agitation. Lady Saxondale, whom he had left kneeling at the sofa whonce he had risen, slowly raised berself from that suppliant posture; and advancing towards hiw, ex- tended her arfis, murmuring in half smothered accents, “ Mercy, mercy !” - The doctor stopped short. He gased uporf that woman whom he had loved so long—so teuly—so enduringly: his thoughts were reflected back to thuse by-gone years when he had first seen her in the bloom of her youthful beauty; and aa he beheld her now in the glory of her splendid wompnbood, all the freshness of the passion which had been in- spired then, was resuscitated now. Yas shuddered he not as ho reflected that this whman—the object of his love—wag a murderessP Recoiled he not from the presence of her upon whose soul lay the weight: of so tremendous a crimeP He had felt shooked : but the sentiment of horror was absorbed in the profundity of that strange rofantic passion which his heart cherished towards her. It was a passion stronger than h'mself—a passion which had no hope and no aim—which subvigted not upon expectation --but was in itself eternal, deathless, immortal. Yes, it was a love euch as the human heart has seldum known—perhaps never knew before! ° With intense anxiety did Lady Saxondale’ watch tho features of the physician,as they stood face to} face in the middle of the room. Her experienced eye showed her that he was melting in, her favour; and her heart bounded with a feeling tho certainty af triumph. ‘There must bave been some terrible circum- stances, Lady Saxondala,” ho said, at length break- ing silence, and speAking slowly, “to have led you on to such a deed as that 8, ““Yes—terrible circumstances,’ was the quick response: “but do not force me to give uttorance to them |” ‘One word!” ejaculated the doctor, as a thought suddenly struck him. ‘;When you were at my mothor’s house, you bad a servant with you whom you called Mary. Was she this sam& one whose real name appears to have beon Mabel ?” “The same,” respofided Lady Saxondale. “TI begin to understand. She doubtless threatened some exposure with regard to that mfstery the pur- of which I have sworn nevé to penctrate? And thergin I will keep my word!” an “You have conjectured the wholo truth,” was Lady Saxondale’s reply. “And now, my dear Dr. Verney, may I still regard you as my warmest, my best friend ?—may I look upor? you as my saviour P Oh! do not, do not hesitate to give me this assur- ance.” . ; ; e “Lady Saxondale,” answered the physician, so- lemnly, “I fear that for you I am perilling my im- mortal soul !” . 8 _% What proof can I give you of my gratitude? Oh! tell me what proof?” “There is nothing—nothing,” replied the doctor, of relief and |} o ‘minutes afterwards, the physician was being borne ing by what has passed !” “I will, I will!” she exclaimed: “your advice shall not be lost upon me. Oh, Dr. Ferney, I am entirely in your hands—I am at your mercy, —I am in your power. May I rely upon your solemn sacred | promise not to betray me ?’’ “You may,” was his answer. “ But if @ period of remorse should ecize upon you,” resumed Lady Saxondale, still in the hurri@d | voice of exeitement,—" if you should think better of this pledge that you have given——” “Fear not,” he interrupted her, gently, but firmly: “from the past you may judge whether [ ama man Who will fly from his word. No, Lady e—eyen upon my death-bed will I keep secret: and may heaven forgive mv for s0 your doing ‘The gratitude of my life is your’s, And now that Wwe may turn away ‘from this sad, sad, topic,” youtinued Lady Saxondale, “ will you not accept the hospitality of the castle P Believe mo, my dear Dr. Ferney, I could receive no more welcome guest than one who has proved himgelf so kind a friond to me.” “No, Lady Saxondale,” he answered, not culdly nor distantly—but mournfully and gravely: “TI muss not remain here. The less we see of each other in the world, the better. . You would feel em- barrassed In my presence, knowing that I possessed this secret of your's. And I——but nu matter. Farewell.” ° And With this abrupt adieu, Dr. Ferney grasped Lady Saxondale’s hand for a moment, and burried from the room. Thue terminated this strange scene; and a few away in the poat-chaise from Saxondale Castle. ‘CIIAPTER LXXV. -_ © THE JUDGE AND JURY soci?ry. Om the same evening when the scene above described took place at the castlein Lincolnshire, Lord Saxon- dale was dining by himeclf at the mansion in Park Lane. He felt loely, dull, and dispirited. Ho had broken with the friend whom, ho liked best of all bis acquaintances—indeed, the only one with whom the had ever been exceedingly intimate: for notwithstanding his rank, his position, and his wealth, there were very few young men in his own sphcre, who had chosen to associate much with him. 1t was not that his pride was*too overweening—that his bearing was too arrogant—or his manners wo su- , percilions: but because he was altogether considered a di and uncompanionable young man. So far ag his arrogance, his vanity, his conceit, and his insufferable pride were concerned, there were many ag scions of the Aristocracy who possessed all those faults; indeed few wero without them: but then they had some redeeming qualitics—or at least some which met each other’s approval ; whereas Edmund Saxondale had none of these. He was genefally looked upon as @ miserable coxcomb— np pre - i Se ee i oe i eer | Sn EE ES ee Ee 2 eee ee ee oe eee eee ee ——_— ECOMRniclacae SS (CO)