The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 238: what you’re looking at

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i ture of the feeling, yet does it experience and ap- preciate its luxury. Of whom was Angela thinking? and had she settled herself thus to think of some one P or had his image stolen insensibly and unconsciously into her mind? Yes—it was so. For when the soul has become an elysium of love, it does not at once purposely and deliberately light iteelf up with the silver lampe which shed a soft and perfumed lustre around; but gradually and of ite own accord, as if by magic power, does the gentle flood of roseate light pour in, to reveal the image which the heart has enshrined there. Thus was it with Angela. Her patient had fallen off to sleep: the young maiden had at first taken her embroidery; but feeling a disinclination for it—she scarcely knew why—she had taken a book :—then, still without knowing why, she could not settle her attention upon its pages; and thus she had abandoned em- broidery—ehe had abandoned book--end gradually fell into s certain train of thought, which, as we before observed, bad for her a certain serene and sweet luxury, greater than either the recreation of embroidery or book. Young Cupid, the God of Love, though but a mere boy, is not without the most cunning expe- rience: he knows fyll well the nature of every heart with which he lias to deal. Into that which is characterized by strong passions, and belongs to a fervid and glowing temperament, he sometimes rushes precipitately, confident of being enabled to take the citadel by stom, without resistance, and enthrone hLimaclf in empire there. In the heart, too, where the feelings, though untainted by sen- suousneéss, are nevertheless susceptible as the sen- sitive plans and move to the alightest touch—or as the Aolian harp, which acknowledges the sway of the slightest sephyr,— therein likewise does young Cupid frequently alight with a sudden bound, giving no warning of his approach. ll this con- stitutes what is called love at first sight: but it is not always the most permanent. For an empire that is easily won, sooner or later satiates ita con- queror with the very glory of his triumph: and so does young Cupid sometimes. vanish away from certain hearts as abruptly as he entered them. ' But very different is it with that heart where the feelings lie deep—where modesty, and innocence, and artlesences constitute barriers preventing them from being too accessible to tender influences, end yet properly sensitive in respect to all generous sympathies,—-where the passions he still deeper down, kept in subjection by the same defences, and beyond the reach of undue provocatives. Into such a heart as this young Cupid cannot plunge head- Jong: he cannot take it by storm. Were he to make tue endeavour, hie presence would ahock in- stead of pleasing : he would be recoiled fram as an insolent intruder; and with drooping wings would be compelled to turn in humiliation away. Full well does Cupid know all this; and therefore, with characteristic cunning, he enters stealthily and silentty—he makes no noise—he breathes not a ayllable—no, not even the name of him on whose part he comes: he flutters not his wings—hce twangs not his bow—he proceeds gradiently and cautiously, like an army that enters by surprise into the midst of a fortalice in the depth of night. Then—even when the entry is made and the ad- tmaission is obtained—Cupid goes not ronghly on, as JHE MYSTERTES OF THE COURT. 231 a man pushes his way through a dense forest, rudely thrusting aside the boughs and snapping perhaps some of the branches: but he proceeds as one makes his way through a parterre of flowers in a lovely garden, gently and delicately picking his path amidst:the floral beauties, so as to trample upon none—to break none—mnor so much ¥ * bruise a single slender stalk, nor to shake one single quivering rose-leaf. And having gained the depth of such a heart as this, young Cupid still plays a prudential part: he does not raise a shout—proclaim a name—eet up an image —and call upon that heart’s feelings to fail down in worship at once. No—he does not immediately whisper to those feclings, that they may begin to vibrate softly and gently, as the leaves of a grove are faintly waved by the first kissing and wooing of the evening breese. Thus is it by gradual eteps and low proceedings that Cupid makes his presence known in the heart to whose depths he has been compelled so stealtbily to enter. A ne Oatid aoe tee a In her young heart did Cupid site there had he en- throned himself—and she only just beginning to be conscious of his presence! There too had he set up an image—and she scarcely daring to ad- mit to herself that she had caught the name of the idol which young Cupid, in soft and gentle whisperings, wae calling upon her to worship! And that image—was it not the image of Francis Paton P But let us return to the thread of our nar- rative. Madge Somers slept; and Angela Deveril was seated in that room which the woman had ied ever since the munications made by Lady Saxoniale to Harold Staunton, how Madge Somers head all along remained deprived of the faculty of speech — how, after consciousness had retarned, she eelf—and how she had upon eipery bntig wien hte yee William and Angela knew ehe had to impart was of but that it was one of vast im it Bae E F i attention,—not merely because they bey felt that her’s was a life which, involving such a secret, was of importance to themseclves—but likewies because they possessed hearts of the sublimest generosity. A nurse had from the very first been engaged te watch by night ; and when this attendant anatthed a few hours of necessary rest during the day, Angela took her place. We must not forget to mention that William Deveril was a constant visitor at Lady Macdonald’s house in Cavendish Square; and frequent also were the visits which love for William Deveril’s beauteous sister. COMMUC DOO CS (COL