The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 363: what you’re looking at

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

THE MYSTERIES OF THE OOURT. ——ee, Ee —E————————————————E———————————eee Eee _V_V_V03_____ ee rr ED Edmund remained in bed until a late hour; and | once more in the presence of her who had been a it was not until Lady Saxondale and Lord Harold | bitter and a remorseless enemy to him—but whom had finished their breakfast, that he made his ap- | he now knew to be the authoress of his being! pearance in the parlour. He was glad to see the | No marvel, then, if his soul were thus agitated: young nobleman: he wanted society—and the presence of Staunton there seemed to promise a) renewal of their former intimacy. He could not however prevent himself from smiling significantly at her ladyship—as much as to intimate that he understood very well upon what terms she was with Staunton: but the depraved and unprincipled young man—#o deeply criminal too—was inspired by no loathing nor disgust at the thought of sitting down to table with his mother’s paramour: for that she was really his mother, he of course be- lieved, though the reader is now aware of the con It was about eleven o’clock in the forenoon, that a footman entered the parlour where they were all three seated, and informed Lady Saxondale that Mr. Deveril requested an immediate audience. “Let him be shown to the drawing-room,” replied her ladyship, without losing her self- possession ; but she glanced significantly at Lord Harold, as much as to say that now the worst was likely to be known. “ Ah, William Deveril!” ejaculated Edmund, as the footman retired. “I wonder at his impudence in coming to the house——” “Trouble yourself not with him or his cen- cerns,” said Lady Saxondale in a severe tone: and as she had regained all her empire over the ill- conditioned mind of the guilty young man, he at once held his peace. Lord Harold followed her ladyship out into the hall—and said in a low, hurried, anxious whisper, “ What do you think of Deveril’s presence here ?” “TIT know not,” she responded, her uwn eyes glittering with uneasiness: “but still I hope that no public exposure of last night’s proceedings has taken place. If so, William Deveril would scarcely call upon me. His presence here seems indicative of a desire to save that exposure: but it is evident my name has been disagreeably mixed up in the transaction. Remain you quiet until I rejoin you.” . Lord Harold returned into the parlour—while Lady Saxondale ascended to the drawing-room. She was filled with a nervous anxiety, which not all the natural strength of her mind could repress. She had not told Lord Harold the full extent of what she apprehended from Deveril’s visit: her guilty soul was smitten with the horrible thought that Madge Somers had possibly revealed her secret: but if so, the reader may still understand that she was utterly unaware that William Deveril was her own son. | She proceeded to the drawing-room, assuming as well as she was able that dignified hauteur and calm stateliness of demeanour which she was wont to wear, and beneath which she was so often enabled to conceal the agitation of her soul. The moment she opened the dour, she perceived Deveril standing near a window, and with his back to- wards her. Not that our young hero was gazing forth upon any particular object: he was looking on. vacancy: for all his powers of vision were, so to speak, turned inwardly, to the contemplation of the varied emotions and thoughts that were excited in his breast. He was about to stand he felt that the interview about to take place was one of no ordinary character. He did not hear the door open, suv absorbed was he in his medi- tations; aud it was not until the sounds of foot- steps close behind him fell upon his ear, that he turned abruptly—thus finding himself face to face with Lady Saxondale, His countenance was exceeding pale, but in- ecrutable in its expression—though the dark eyes of her ladyship were instantaneously bent keenly and piercingly upon him, in order to ascertain, if possible, whether he came with an intent of re- solute hostility, or whether his visit might be otherwise construed. He could not immediately speak: he knew not how to commence the ex- planations he had to give. At one moment he felt inclined to fling himself into the arms of Lady Saxondale, claiming her as his parent: but the next instant the harrowing reflection swept through his brain that it was possible she might repudiate him—she might disown him—she might refuse to acknowledge that claim,which he had to aseert. On her side, she was equally at a loss how to address him,—not knowing what his object might be, or to what extent she was once more in his power. Thus did they stand for nearly a minute, gazing upon each other in silenco—a silence that was painful enough for William Deveril, and full of suspense for Lady Saxundale. At length William Deveril felt so completely overpowered by the emotions which were working so strongly within, though their outward expres- sion was comparatively so slight,—that he was compelled to take a seat. Indeed, it was with an air of utter mental and physical exhaustion that he sank down upon a chair. Then Lady Saxondale perceived that he was under the influence of foel- ings which could not be altogether of a vindictive or hostile character; and she took courage: for wherever she saw an opportunity of playing upon the sensibilities of individuals, sho knew that a strong weapon was in her own hand, and that her powers of consummate disaimulation and hypocrisy would enable her to derive immense advantages from the weaknesa of those with whom she had to deal. She did not break the silence which pre- vailed: but she also took a seat—and appeared to be patiently awaiting whateoever explanation was about to be given; while in reality she was suffer- ing her visitor to abandon himsclf mure and more to the influence of the sentiments which had pos- session of him. “TI know not how to address you,” he at length said, in a voice which was tremulous aud half- suffocated with his emotions. “ Bear with me a few minutes! think not my conduct intentionally rude, however strange it may appear.” “Take your own time, Mr. Deveril,” said Lady Saxondale, forcing herself to assume oven a degree of affability. “Iam well pleased that you thus seem enabled to throw aside old rancours and “ Rancours and animosities!”’ echoed Deveril, with almost a wild start, as a thousand remi- niscences of the past swept through his mind. “Would to heaven that they had never existed }— (COL __) __) a, A DOO CS (COL