The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 341: what you’re looking at

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

338 THR MYSTERIES OF THR COURT. ga anne SSC EO a SaaS mund knew that a hittle another diverging lane, river. In this direction Gut warccly had they entered the brosder road, when the sounds of an approaching equipage reached their ears; and as it came in sight, Edmund, at once recognising the servants’ liveries, hastily said, “The Denisons’ carriage !” It was advancing at only a moderate pace,—as Mr. and Mrs. Denison, with their eldest son and his wife, their daughter-in-lews ee taking an airing. There was consequently a ¢ oppor- tunity for the Saxondales to observe them—and for them to observe Edmund and his wife in re- turn. But what pen can describe the bitter mor- tification of the young nobleman, when he saw the occupants of that vehicle avert their heads in so marked and pointed a manner that there was no possibility of mistaking their intention to give him and Adelaide the cut direct ? The equipage passed on its way; and Edmund, utterly humiliated, and quivering with rage, gave vent to some low- muttered im Again was his wife ready with cajoling blandishments; and he, fearfal of ex- citing in her mind any suspicion of how hateful in every sense she had become to him, appeared to be soothed, and even affected to talk disdainfully and scornfully of “the wretched unmannerly who lived in that part of the country.” But if the terrible purpose with which Lady Baxondale had so skilfully imbued her son, had required strengthening, the malevolent interven- tion of Satan himself could not have conjured up incidents better caloulated to achieve that end than theese which had just arisen from accident. Too vain and conceited to be willing to admit that it could be in any way on his own account he was thus cut,—Edmund attributed his humiliation and discomfiture entirely to the presence of this woman to whom he had allied himself. In every way, therefore, had she become hateful to him,—hateful as one whom he regarded as being the wanton paramour of another—hateful as the murderess of _ her first husband—hateful as entertaining murder- ous intentions towards himself—hateful as the eource of disgrace, opprobrium; and infamy, all of which were falling upon his own head. Never- theless, he still maintained an outward appearance of kindness, affection, and love,—forcing himself even to chat the more gaily the nearer he drew | f his wife towards the river. They entered tpon the beaten pathway which ran along the bank. In their ramble they had made a partial circuit, which thus brought them back to within a mile of the castle: for it was at no great distance below the that en- tered upon the pathway which followed the course of the stream. Adelaide, as she leant upon his arm, was nearest to the river; and as Edmund threw his eyes forward, he perceived @ point about fifty yards ahead, at which he well recollected that the bank was higher than elsewhere, and that the path skirted its very edge. He knew likewise that the water was there exceedingly deep; and not a cottage nor a hut was nigh. That was the spot he fixed upen to become the theatre of the terrific crime which his mother had and in the dread purpose of which so many cir- rumstances had combined to strengthen him. “ Exeellent fishing at this part of the river, in the season,” he observed to Adelaide, thus suddenly breaking a brief interval of silence. shades: you shall take your rod—I will bring a book ; and thus will we while away the time.” “ Yes—and it will be truly delightfal,” observed Edmund, who experienced such curious and almost horrible sensations, as he neared the particular were walking, as if to the fatal instant when the foul deed was to be done. “Then, wherefore vex yourself on their account?” asked Adelaide, up, with all the power of her assumed fondness, into his face. “Tt is not so much on that account—it is not so much for them that I am annoyed ——” “On account of whom, dearest Edmund ?”’ “My own infernal folly!” he replied bitterly, and with startling suddenness. “ Your folly ?” “'Yes—wretch !” and he hurled her into the stream. 4 moment before, his looks had been swept around quick as if it were a lightning-flash that was thus circling the wintry : no ob- server met his view—and thus at the instant the marked-out spot was reached, was his purpose executed. A wild shriek thrilled forth from Ade- laide’s lips, swiftly followed by a splash and heavy plunge; and for a few moments she disappeared from the view of the wretched murderer, who stood dismayed and horrified on the bank. The circling, and gurgling, €, and agitation of the water showed where the unfortunate woman was.battling and struggling in the depths below. Suddenly she re- ePpeared on the surface; and wild cries again rang ts Rédmund—murderer! Help! help! for God's sake help !”—end her countenance, distorted and absolutely hideous with the wild and the dread horror depicted upon it, presented to his dismayed view a spectacle full well calculated to haunt him ever more. Struggling and battling against the engulfing waters—carried downward by the stream—vainly did the miserable woman vour to reach the bank: and a second time did she disappear from the gaze of her murderer. The sudden sinking of that hideous ghastly countenance—a countenance which but a minute before was full of exquisite beauty—emote him as it were with a sense of relief: yes, smote him—for the revulsion of feeling was marvellously abrupt from consternation and parative of mind. Then did Edmund recollect another portion of hie mother’s instructions: and rashing to and fc along the bank with every appearance of the moed Ne postpone as long as possible . — C) (COL ( DOO CS (COL