The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 218: what you’re looking at

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

| ——- wellaware that since you were eight years old and I was eighteen, our attachment to each other has nerer been for a mement marred by a harsh word or acoid look.” “ Thhis is trae—most true,” murmured the Countess ot Desborough; “and were IF to make any one a confidant of the secret sorrow which, I admit, weighs upon my heart, that friend would be your- self.” ‘Is it possible that you ean love another ?—that on hate your husband for that other’s sake f” ejacu- ted the Duchess, a sudden idea striking her. * No — no,” responded the Countess of Desbo- rough: then, in an altered and far more solemn tone, she added, “ Never yet have I felt what love is!” “You did not love the Earl when you married him?” exclaimed Georgiana, profoundly surprised. “This, then, was at least a secret which you kept from me. But surely his conduct must have been such as to win your affections ?-~surely he cannot seem tender, loving, and attentive in public, and 1l- treat you in private ?” “ Not for worlds would [ have you think so ill of Francis!" cried the Countess, emphatically. “No ~—he has surrounded me with all the elements of that nappiness which gold can procure; and his constant study is to render my life as agreeable as it may be.”” “This mystery is incomprehensible!” said - the Duchess. “I am pained—grieved to the inmost re- cesses of my heart—to think that my best friend should be unhappy, and that she should fear to en- trust me with the cause of her sorrow.” “You know not how I long— how ardently I crave to unbosoin myself to you, dearest Geor- giana,” returned ths Countess, bending upon her eompanion those eyes which were usually so bril- liant aud lustrous, but which were now so mournful and melting. “ Your words have already penetrated like a balm into my soul—the tender sympathy which you have manifested towards me, has done me good. Yes—the love of a dear friend must be an incalculable relief: but it would kill me to think that this friend should ever have cause to blush for her in whose behalf she has shown euch generous feel- n + 2) ay blush for you, Eleanor!” exclaimed the Duchess, more and more astonished at this species of self-accusation on the part of the Countess: “Oh! that were impossible! I know you to be virtue itaelf.” “ But is there not the sin of the thoughts as well as of the actions?” inquired Eleanor, in a subdued and mournful tone. “ Alas! since the confession must be made—and I see that [ cannot resist the in- finence which prompts me now to unbosom my soul to you——”’ “ Speak freely—fearlessly,” said the Duchess, ob- serving that her friend still hesitated. “It will prove one of the most delicious moments of my life !: if I can in any way sooth the secret sorrow which you cherish.” ————_ HE MYSTERTER. 907 habit a body that is polluted? The woman whose honour is violently wrested from her by the mis- creant ravisher, is still chaste in mind though tainted in person: and, on the other hand, the woman who iseven a virgin in bodily innocence may be a very Messalina in passions, cravings, and desires. De you understand ine, my dear friend?” asked the Countess, without raising her head, bat with a burn- ing blush suffusing her entire countenante-and pour- ing its crimson glow over her neck, her shoulders, and her bosom. “I understand that you have fovolved yourself in a net of sophistry and metaphysical argument which cannot regard yourself," responded the Duchess. “It is true that virtue may bea nega- tive quality only, in some instances: but as you have already assured me that you love no man, you have no possible inducement to prove faithless to your husband. Were yon enamorred of some handsome youth, and were you on that account wrestling against temptation, it would not be diffi- cult to comprehend your position.” “And then, perhaps, the crime were more ve~ nial than when the soul has to combat with pas- sions and cravings which have no particular object to excite them,” murmured Eleanor, covering her countenance with her hands. “I understand you at lenzth!” whispered the’ Duchess of Devonshire, leaning towards her friend on whose shoulder she placed her hand: “you aro upon those unhappy terms with your husband which deprive you of the enjoyment of conjugal rites— and you are not of a temperament to allow so saint-like an existence to be even tolerable. If this be the case, Eleanor, you need not blush to avow it—fur I candidly admit that the result of such privation would be the same with me.” “And yet we are so differently situated,” ex. claimed the Countess, raising her blushing face timidly towards that of the brilliant and voluptuous Georgiana : “for as yet you have only obtained an insight into a portion of ny secret—you have only learnt the least and most insignificant part of my weakness, Alas! you alluded to the unhappy terms on which I exist with my husband: but you have yet to hear and be amazed at the cause of that severance which is scarcely veiled by the mockery of our living beneath the same roof.” “ And this cause—what can it be ?” asked Geor~ giana, taking her friend's hand and pressing it be- tween both her own. ’ The Countess of Desborough hesitated upwards of a minute: she was evidently afraid of giving a reply to the question—and she was unable to find language wherewith to frame that answer. But suddenly calling all her courage to aid her in achiev- ing a confession which had gone thus far, she placed her lips to the ears of the Dachess, and hastily whispered a few words. fhe magnificent Georgiana started as if a ser- pent had stung her—so amazed was she by the ex- fraordinary and unexpected revelation which she “Ere now, my beloved Georgiana,” resumed the; had thus heard: but Eleanor, devoured with shame, Countess, * you complimented me by eaying that I | and unable to endure the look of mingled increda. was virtue itself, But you know not how unworthy | lity, surprise, and compassion which the Duchess I am of the good opinion which you have thus| fixed upon her, threw herself on the bosonf of her formed of me! Itis true that if the chastity of the | friend, and, concealing her burning countenance body be all that is required to constitute virtue, I | there, gave vent to her feelings in a flood of tears. | ! am indeed virtuous, But may not a polluted soul! “My poor Eleanor, be comforted,” at length dwell in a chaste body, even ag a pure soul may in. | said the Duchess of Devonshire: “it ts nos grief COMM COnrlicooolkxs (G