The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 121: what you’re looking at

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

108 sincerely for seeking abode last pire. fever fee and rotallt up attended——” “Do not cay anything in the shape of an excuse, Pauline,” interrupted the Duchess, seating herself by the bed-side: “but tell me what you will in the form of an explanation, as between friends. Some- thing unpleasant has happened, I am very sure—for your eyes are red with weeping, and moreover I am well aware that this masquerading adventure was no idle whim nor foolish freak on your part.” “Your surmise is correct, my kind friend,” ob- served the young lady, subduing with a violent ef- fort a fresh outbreak of her grief. “I knew you too well—understand y our character | too profoundly—and entertain too high an opinion of you, Pauline,” said the Duchess, “to imagine for a moment that you would venture alone to a masque- rade without some strong and sufficient reason. Therefore, even if you should refuse me your con- fidence, I shall not think the less favourably of you.” “But I do not intend to refuse you my confi- dence,” exclaimed Pauline. “I have received too many kindnesses at your hands not to regard you as the best friend I have in the world. When circum- stances forced me to abandon my father’s dwelling, you offered me a home—and a home has your Grace likewise provided for my unfortunate sister. Do not, therefore, imagine for a moment that [am un- mindful of all you have done for me, or ungratefal for the many bounties of which I have been the re- ci i “I know that you are good, and amiable, and candid, my sweetest friend,” said the Duchess; “and on that account I have conceived a warm af. fection for you. Tell me if there be any way in which I can still serve you—and you may rely upon my zeal and readiness in your cause.” “First let me unbosom myself to your Grace,” anawered Pauline; “and then I may perhaps havea favour to implore at your hands.” Having thus spoken, the young lady took up some of her masquerading apparel which lay on a chair near the bed; and drawing forth a letter from the bosom of the dress, she handed it to the Duchess of Devonshire. The contents ef that billet were as follow :— “ Lord Fiorimel is unfaithful to you. While affecting a complete reformation in his conduct, his private life is will be present at a masquerade at Covent Garden “ One word more. The writer positively and earnestly enjoins you not to addres a ayilable of reproach to Lord your the proper ceurse to be subsequently parsved.” “T need not ask whether you received confirma- tion of the s which this anonymous letter excited,” said the Duchess of Devonshire, in a * Alas! my dear friend, those tears which are fall- ing from your eyes prove that the information was indegd too true.’’ “Too true — yes — too true !* murmured Pau- line, the big drops chasing each other down her cheeks and falling upon her fair virginal boeom as she sate up in the bed gazing with a look of the deepest affliction upon Georgiana. “This letter, which is dated, as you perceive, the day before yes- terday and is addressed to me at your own villa near Aylesbury, I received early yesterday mornings and confiding my poor sister to the care of the nurse, I came to London. At the warehouse men- tioned in the note I purchased that fancy dress; and having assumed it, I proceeded to the theatre. The masque in the blue domino with the curious braid- ing was already there: but at first it strack me that he was too tallfor Gabriel. However, after a time I mustered up courage to accast him; and, reckless of the injunctions so emphatically expressed in the concluding portion of the note, I asked whe he was. Then, doubtless believing me to be the fair one whom he expected to meet at that place, he instan- taneously announced himself as Lord Florimel— yes, and in such terms too, that left no doubt as te his perfidy.” Pauline stopped short, her voice almost suffocated with the deep sobs which rent her bosom; and the Duchess, throwing her arms around the young lady's neck, besought her to moderate her grief “Oh! my dearest, dearest friend,” exclaimed Pauline, in a more harried and painfal accent than before, “ you cannot wonder if my heart be ready te barst with this woe which is too vast for it te con- tain! For I have loved your perfidious cousin— Oh! I have loved him as never woman loved be- fore; and when his own lips, breathing his name in my ear last night, confirmed the terrible suspicion that was already rending my soul, "twas as if the knell of doom were reverberating within the living - | cells of my brain! Boundless was my affection—an illimitable flood of the tenderest feelings, knowing no ebb, but ever gushing with the impulse of love's spring-tide. Conceive, then, how fearful is the an- guish attendant upon the reaction of such a love as this—and how every nerve must quiver with an in- Ficrime! | effable excraciation. And, oh! if it were not that a “Well aware that yeu sre so utterly unsecquainted with ali the arts of London dissipation, as te be ignorant even how to proceed in order to procure at so short a wary arrangements at a respectable fancy-dress ware- eouse in Loadoa (the card of which is enclosed). The feeling of pride—nay, rather of proud indignation —now sustained me, I should sink beneath th? weight of this blow so cruel—so —s0 un- ha And as Pauline gave utterance to this last ess- tence, her countenance, a moment before so pale, GOH GOO co