The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

OSA, 60 THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. wish to etand a chance of alienating the latter. But there are a thousand and one ways in which an artful and designing woman can play the game of witchery and fascination unperceived by those gound. A tender glance quickly darted and as quickly withdrawn—a gentle pressure of the hand —@ half-stifled sigh, to be heard only by him whose ears it is specially intended to reach—and that mo- mentary fond clinging which the routine of the dance allows—these are the means by which the artful fair one may, under such circumstances, con- duct the campaign against the object of her wiles. Frank saw it all—felt it all—bat could not com- it all. Did she really love him? did she regret the scene of yesterday? was she making as much amends as, without too much self-prostration of her own pride, she could possibly offer? ought he to pardon the circumstances of the previous day ? ought he to make allowances for them, considering her position? In a word, what ought he to do? what ought he to think? He was bewildered: and he was too young, as well as having been but too recently under the spells of thie dangerous woman, to remain insensible to those pressures of tho hand —those tender looks—those softly subdued sighs— those transient but raptured clingings to him in the mases of the dance. And it was not all acting nor simulation on Juliana’s part: for, as the reader is aware, she did love this beautiful that is to say, loved him after the fashion of her own een- guous nature; and at all events it was a strong pas- gen on her part. But at length the dance was done: the couples promenaded round the room— and Frank conducted Juliana into the adjacent one. Thither they strolled witheut the eppearance of i ign, and as any others might premeditated design, _ have done. No one was there: they passed into the —-and here likewise they were alone. Weshould observe that Miss Farefield was dressed virgin attire perfectly compatible with ion and her style of beauty. Indeed, it eerved to set it off to the utmost advantage. She usually wore her hair in bands: bat this evening she appeared with it showering in myri ringlets down upon her shoulders! Oh, how bright was the gloes upon that raven hair! how it ahone with a natural glory, all its own! <A single “And now, Frank,” she said, ina low melting murmuring voice, and fixing upon him those lustrous vyes that were brimfull of passion, “you have some , apt immediately withdrawn: and she pressed it yriads of luxuriant’ words to address to me. Remember that we cann2 remain too long here—we shall be missed—we shall be sought after——” ‘Miss Farefield,” responded the youth, endea- vouring to speak as coldly and collectedly as he could, “ I will not detain you many minutes.” “Wherefore do you address me in this formal manner?” she asked, with reproachful look and voice. “Am I no longer Juliana to you?” “ How can you be?” exclaimed Frank, at this moment feeling that he had regained power over himself, ae all the incidents in arbour on the preceding day trooped through hi mind. “Did you not tell me that you marry another? By what right, then, can I you with the insolence of familiarity ?” “ Insolenco—familiarity! Ob, dearest Frank, is it possible that such words as these are to pass be- tween us P”’ “Listen, Miss Farefield,” interrupted the youth, drawing himself up in a dignified manner. ‘“ Yes- terday I offered you my hand—and you refused it. It is therefore as a rejected suitor that I stand be- fore you. Think you not that I have my own feelings of pride? and is it possible that what took place in that arbour can be recalled? No—impos- sible! But I would not have you think that I was selfish and egotistical in seeking the hand of the elder daughter of the titled and brilliant Lady Saxondale! Oiroumstances have much altered with me of late—but not in the sense that I gave you to understand yesterday. It is true that what the world may call a stigma rests upon my birth: nevertheless my parents are of noble rank—my father possesses immense wealth—and he will shower riches upon my head. He and my mother are now married: thoy are acquainted with the love whict I had cheeiahed for you——” “Ah, then, dear Frank, you did leve me—QOh, Ba -{ you did love me! and you must love me still!”— and as Juliana thus spoke, she threw her arm around the youth’s neck; and ere he could disen- gage himself from her embrace, she had imprinted a kiss upon his lips. Nevertheless he did so disengage himself: for he had been speaking of his father and his mother —their images were now in his mind—he remem- bered his duty towards them—he remembered the counsel he had received—and he was determined to follow it. “You draw yourself away from me,” said Juliana: and she spoke coldly and distantly, for her pride had just sustained a severe shock. “You told me that you would marry another— and whoever the man of your choice may be,” re- sponded Frank, “I will not be guilty of any out- rage towards him.” “Ah, all this is intended es a bitter sarcasm to myself !”-—and now tears started forth from Juliana’s eyee—but tears of mingled spite and vexation. “Do not weep,” said Frank, much moved: for he com @ed not the true source of those teare “ Heaven forbid that I should speak sarcastically os upbraidingly towards you! I only reminded yoa of your duty—or rather proclaimed what I felt ve be mine.” “Ah! now you speak kinder, Frank—and I am seothed,” said Juliana, taking his hand which wa, COMMUC DOO CS (COL