The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 250: what you’re looking at

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

THE MYSTERIES. 237 “ Go on—go on,” exclaimed the Prince. “You say that the occurrence of which you are speaking took place on the &h?” he added, more than half suspecting what was coming. “It was so, may it please your Royal Highness,” continued Page. “And just figure to yourself that meé and my wife were standing on the steps leading down from the back-door of our house into our garden—while Miss Octavia and Miss Pauline were standing a few yards distant, in the gravel-walk of their garden. Octavia was leaning upon Pauline’s arm; and the setting sun was shining upon the auburn hair of the former and the splendid brown treases of the latter. I thonght to myself that I had never, never seen two sach beantiful creatures in all my life! Well, I presented Mrs. Page to them—and, while Octavia stood gazing abstractedly apon a withering rose-bush, Pauline said some civil things to my wife. In fact, that Pauline is quite the lady! At first the conversa- tion was naturally and necessarily upon ordinary topics: but all on a sudden, as the thought flashed to my wife's head, she exclaimed, ‘ By the bye, the young German Princess that the Prince of Wales is to marry, has arrived in London the milk-man told me just now."—Oh! never, never,” continued Mr. Page, his air becoming all in a mo- ment solemnly serious, “shall I forget the effect which those words produced upon Miss Octavia. A half-stified cry burst from her lips—a deadly pallor come over her—she stared with awful wild- ness upon my wife—and then sank back, with a low moan, into the arms of Pauline, who had suddenly become almost as excited as herself. Well, what else could I and Mrs. Page do under such cir- cumstances, except what we did do ?—and this was to scramble through the evergreens—over the low railings—into the next garden—and bestow all our attentions on the two charming young ladies. Pauline besought us to retire and leave to herself the management of her sister: but I gave Mrs. Page a significant wink—and she accordingly said that she would not for worlds leave the dear crea- tares in sucha plight. 8o we half carried, half led the Hon. Miss Octavia into the house—the Hon. Mise Pauline assisting us as well as she was able. We placed Octavia on the sofa in the parlour— which, by the bye, is most elegantly furnished——” “ Pause not to toach upon trifles,” said the Prince, in a low voice and with half-averted countenance: “but endeavour to adhere to the thread of your nar- rative.” “Well, please your Royal Highness,” continued Mr. Page, “a most interesting scene then ensued, There was Miss Octavia raving after ‘her dear Prince’ — ‘her beloved Prince’ —‘her handsome George’——-your Royal Highness will pardon me— the words are her's not mine——"’ “Go on—go on,” exclaimed the heir-apparent, impatiently. “ Ali kinds of tender names did she bestow upon your Royal Highness,” resumed Mr. Page; “ while I and my wife were perfectly astounded at the dis- covery which this scene of course revealed to our comprehension. And Pauline—poor Pauline—was too much occupied in her almest wild, distracted, and despairing éndeavours to appease and tranquillise her unhappy sister,—she was too much engaged, I say, in the task of soothing that frensied mind, to take any farther notice of our presence. Thus we gleaned the whole truth from poor Octavia’s ravings: for the wretched young lady called you ‘her betrayer” —‘héer seducer’—‘the author of her ruin’— Sather of her as yet unborn dabe’——” “She said all that—did she?’ murmured the Prince, in a tone that was scarcely audible: for never, never, in all his life, had he experienced the power of compunction so profoundly, so acutely as at this mo- ment, “She mingled the tenderest with the harshest names—the most loving epithets with the bitterest accusations,” replied Page. “At one moment she invoked vehgeance upon your head—at another she expressed her conviction that you would not deceive her: and finally she sank off, through sheer ex- haustion, into a deep slumber, with your name hover- ing tenderly upon her lips. Then Pauline appeared to become aware, for the first time during this lament- able scene, that my wife and myself must have learnt her sister’s secret: and, taking us both by the hand, she said, while tears streamed down her cheeks, * Accident hae made you acquainted with my poor sister's misfortune: I conjure you not to betray your knowledge of the cause of her sorrows £ — Your Royal Highness does nut require to be informed that we gave a reassuring answer; and taking leave of poor Pauline, who was overwhelmed with grief, we returned into our own house to discuss all we had seen and heard.” “ Have you anything more to communicate to me, Mr. Page?” inquired the Prince. “To be sure!” ejaculated that mercurially brisk and bustling individual. “Iam now coming to the very cream of the whole matter—the point relative to which it is most imperatively necessary for your Royal Highness to be duly warned——” “Warned ?” echoed the heir-apparent, recovering somewhat of his dignified hauteur and casting an almost stern glance upon the ex-bagman. “ What danger, sir, can possibiy threaten me from that quarter? If I made Miss Clarendon my mistress, I also made her father a Peer,” he continued, the evanescent remorse which had been excited in his soul now rapidly losing its tensity and indeed re- Japsing into the cold heartlessness that was habitual with him. “ But continue, sir, the observations you have to make.” “JT shall not detain your Royal Highness much longer,” resumed Mr. Page, now for the first time entertaining a fear that he was a little too prolix. “The incident which I have just related occurred on the Sth: the 6th passed without the young ladies re-appearing in the garden—but I sent my wife to make inquiries. She only saw the servant; and tho answer was that Miss Octavia continued poorly, and that Miss Pauline was unable to leave her. The same on the 7th. But on the S&th—which was yee terday, may it please your Royal Highness———’”’ I recollest the date well,” cried the Prinee, in an trreprensible paroxyaan of bitterness as be thought of his wedding-day. “Go on, Mr. Page: what 0o= curred yesterday f” he demanded, in & more con- ciliatory tone. “Te was last evening, may it please your Royal "resumed the ex-bagman. “Soon after dusk, the two sisters went forth into .their little garden. Octavia was leaning upon Pauline’a arm. Through the deepening gloom of the evening, the former resembled a drooping Muse breathing in gentle accents the history of her sorrows to the eaz ElOOO® co