The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 212: what you’re looking at

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

a + ( fewiv from the sofs—approached him—lsid her hand wu upon his shoulder—and bending down, whis- pered in his ear, “ Henri, if you were stained with ten thousand crimes I should love you still_—aye, and all the more too, because I should have the conviction that those crimes had been committed on my account !”’ “ Adelaide—wretched woman!” ejaculated the Count, starting up to his feet, and gazing upon her with a kind of wild horror in his countenance : “this ie equivalent to a confession which you have made! But for heaven’s sake say not that you committed that erime on my account!” * For whom, then, should I have committed it P” demanded Adelaide vehemently: “what other motive had I for perpetrating it? ‘Yes, Henri—it is true—I will no longer attempt to deny it——I am a murderess———I poisoned my husband—lI killed him ruthlessly! But as God is my judge, it was for you that I did it———for you, Henri, have I sold my soul to Satan———have mercy upon me! My God, have merey upos me!” ing her hands wildly, the unhappy woman fell at his feet. Oh, what a spectacle was that—— the despair, the anguish, the entreaty, the love of that beautiful creature who had become a mur- derees on his ascount! He felt that it was terrible, and yet fraught with a deep romantic interest,—an interest that was fearful, a romance that was hor- rible—and yet replete with all the pathos which so frequently mingles with the darkest of tragedies. He gased down upon her: the masees of her golden hair floated over her neck and shoulders: her two fair hands, firmly clasped, were extended up to- wards him. He could not behold her countenance —it was bent down—some of her bright tresses had fallen over it: but his eye could trace all the exqui- site proportions of her shape—could behold the you white as ivory, that was pelpitating vio- yt “ Rise, Adelaide—rise,” he said, catching her by the wrist: “this must not be. It is not to me that you must kneel: you have almost made me an sccomplice in your crime by declaring that you committed it on my account. And yot, alas! I all along knew that it was so: I conjectured—I di- vined it! Rise, Adelaide, I say—and when you kneel again, let it be only to your Maker!” He forced her to quit her suppliant posture; and she threw herself upon the sofa, sobbing and weeping bitterly. She who for some years past, had studied to exercise such a firm control over the outward expression of her feclings, that by this mere fact alone she had become a perfect mistress | go in the art of dissimulation,—she, that strong- minded , was now unable to veil one single tittle of what she felt: she was all the melting, and tender, and weak woman once again. “ Adelaide,” said the Count de St. Gerard, standing before her and speaking in a tone of i “I entreat you to com- pose cone yournif. I implore you to embrace the conviction that it is useless to give way to what- poever emotions are agitating and convulsing you thus! Tell me—-wherefore have you sent for me to Inndon ? wherefore did you write and entreat me to undertake this journey from Strasbourg to meet you here? Are you not a wife again? have not married an English nobleman of rank and wealth? and whatsoever my feelings may still be rd ea oe dies, Fenn ew . "#& © uae ° Qn Geren Ds Ee a . — a —~—-+-ew: @ Scar % THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. 205 towards you, must I not respect the sanctity of this second alliance of your's, even as I respected the first P” “Listen to me, Henri,” exclaimed Adelaide, suddenly wiping away the tears from her eyos, and raising her flushed and agitated countenanee : “hear me, I conjure you! After my husband's death I waited patiently for some months, saying to myself, ‘ Ho will allow a decent period to elapse, and then he will come.’—-Such was my hope: but, as the time passed away and you came not, that hope grew fainter within me. Still I yielded not to des- pair; and I said to myself, ‘A little while longer, and he will come.’—Kvery time the door opened, I expected to behold you: every time a letter was brought to me, my heart fluttered with the fond expectation that it was from you. But no: you came not—neither did you write. Thus did time pass on, till at length I could no longer shut my eyes to the conviction that you must believe me guilty—that you must regard me with loathing and abhorrence. And then, in the bitterness of my spirit, I said, ‘I have become a murderess for his sake, and he shuns me: for him I have re- nounced all hopes of hereafter, and he abandons me in the present life.’—What phase of a woman’s mind, think you, then developed itself? Pride came to my aid. were into hatred—as if affection were yielding to a thirst for revenge. I grew desperate. I was is to say, comparatively poor; and I felt that it would be impossible, with my limited income, to maintain the requisite eata- blishment in the mansion where I dwelt. I longed to plunge into pleasure and dissipation that I might drown the feelings which were gnawing at my heart: and then, too, I thought to myself, ‘He ecorns and hates me: he abhors and shuns me. Oh, if I could obtain a brilliant social position, and if I were to bestow my hand upon one who could give it to me, it would be a re- venge that I should be taking upon Henri. As he cares not for me, let me at least affect to show that I care not for him; and, perhaps, when he sees me wedded to another, he will bitterly repent his conduct towards me.—Thus did I reason, Henri; and accident evabled me, even far more speedily and easily than I had anticipated, to ac- compliah my aims. You are listening, are you not P” “T am—lI am,” replied the Count de St. Gerard, who had resumed his scat and had averted his countenance to conceal his emotions. “Go on, on.” “Knowing that amongst the French nobility and gentry, who were so well acquainted with my history,” continued Adelaide, “and who enter- tained a general impression of my guilt, I might vainly endeavour to obtain a husband, I resolved to see what the effect of my beauty would be upon English visiters to the French metropolis. It is through no idle vanity that I thus speak of this loveliness of mine. I know that I possess it—and I know its power. myself with all my Yortitude——-I will even admit that it was dlso with that brazen effrontery to which you yourself have ere now alluded—I went to a ball given by the English residents at the Odeon Theatre. Lord Saxondale was speodily by my side. Shunned by everybody else—finding that my history was sucks oem Ow 6 ee ae Cee ry a~ amy aye, and I almost felt as if love. 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