The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 240: what you’re looking at

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

THE MYSTERIES. you are this evening, my Octavia,” exclaimed the Prinoe, at that moment forgetting the Conntess of Desborough as completely as if there were no such being in existence. “ And never did yeu appear in my eyes so emi- nently handsome,” was the soft response. “But even though we have been separated for an entire age, during your absence in the country,” conti- mued the charming Octavia, her eyes and counte- nance becoming overpoweringly brilliant in light and beauty as a glow of impassioned animation flooded her exquisite featares,—“ I have neverthe. less had something to console me,” she added with the most winning archness. “ Indeed f” cried the Prince, straining her af- fectionately to his bosom. “Yes: your portrait said Octavia, with the same tone and manner of playful slyness. “My portrait f” repeated his Royal Highness, “tis as I tell you,” continued Miss Clarendon “A few days agomy sister and myself visited a print- shop to purchase some drawings: and there we saw a portrait which had just been issued of his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales.” * Ah I” ejaculated her lover, fixing his eyes upon her countenance in order to read in its expression whether she entertained any suspicion of his identity with the heir-apparent to the English throne. “ Yes,” she resumed, with an artlessness of manner that relieved all his fears on that head in a moment : “the portrait of the Prince caught my view—and I was instantaneously struck by the extraordinary re- semblance which it bore to you. Pauline made the came remark—and I purchased it. Oh! my dearest George, I can assure you that ever since that day [ have passed hours at a time in gazing upon the noble countenance delineated on that paper; and the longer I have dwelt on it, the more wonderful has the likeness appeared. The same high and intel- lectual forehead—the same hair—the same facial outline—even to the very expression of the fea- tures———” “You flatter me too highly, charming girl, in thus comparing me to the Prince,” said hie Royal Highness, suddenly silencing her with a rapturous kisa. “Oh! far from it!” shé exclaimed, throwing her arms about his neck; and retaining her countenance at a short distance from his own, she surveyed him ‘with renewed earnestness and impassioned attention. * Is it not strange that the resemblance should be so perfect in all its details?” ~~ “There are instances of extraordinary likenesses of this kind, my love,” answered the Prince. “ You have doubtless read m the newspapers the recent ro- mantic trial in which Sir Richard Stamford bore a part; and you may remember that this gentleman is represented as strikingly resembling the Royal Family.” “ Yee—I recollect,” said Octavia. “Bat, although I have never seen him, I do not think for a moment that he can bear so perfect a likeness to the Prince as yourself. And now, my beloved George, tell me when you intend to seek an introduction to my father and visit us in Cavendish Square. Oh! I implore you to interpose no unnecessary delay in taking that step! There are times—pardon me for speaking thus frankly — when I tremble from head to foot sest my father should discover the secret of my love -Our stolen interviews ——~—" 29 “Have patience, sweet Octavia, for a tow weeks longer,” said the Prince; “and then ——” “ A few weeks!” she repeated, in a tone of almost anguishetl disappointment. “Oh! wiierefore this long interval ——” “It is absolutely necessary that I should settle certain family affairs, my beloved Octavia,” intes- rupted his Royal Highness,“ before I can present myself at your abode. Be assured, however, that no : farther delay shall take place --—” | “But in the meantime, what is to prevent yeu | from forming the acquaintance of my father f” asked Octavia, an indistinct doabt of her lover's sincerity— ; a doubt faint as the hue which the red rose-lea, . throws upon marble—agitating ber mind for a mo- ) ment, but softly and slightly as the flower waves in ; the still air: then, ashamed and angry at herself for | having allowed euch a suspicion to flash across her | mind even for an instant, she hastened to observe, ' “TI believe all you tell me, dearest George—I have | the utmost confidence in your love and in your | honour: but, Oh! you will render me completely happy—you will make me the most joyous being on the face of the earth—if you will only grant my re- quest, and seek an introduction to my father.” The Prince was troubled by these words, in which these was an appealing earnestness showing that Octavia was accustomed to reflect upon the delay which he interposed in becoming a visitor at Mr. Clarendon’s dwelling upon the usual terms of ac- quaintanceship prior to assuming the more dew cisive part of a suitor for the hand of that gentle- man’s elder daughter: and when he coupled this anxiety on her side with the affair of the portrait, he dreaded lest the most trivial incident or the slightest casualty should lead to a discovery of his princely rap “You are silent, my beloved—you appear to be vexed with me for having spoken so frankly on a subject which nearly and closely concerns my hap- piness f* exclaiined Octavia, with a sweetness of tone and manner that was charmingly seductive though unaflectedly natural. “Oh! lam certain that you cannot be offended with me, George! Re- member that 1 have refused you no proof of my ardent and eternal affection; and yon surely will not deny me this easily accomplished testimony of your own. You say that you have family affairs to settle ; but they cannot prevent you from forming new ac- quaintances, if you will Even supposing that your relations should object to your union with me, they would not suspect that you entertained the idea of such an alliance from the simple fact of obtaining an introduction to our house. Besides, dear George, the time must come when you will accomplish your solemn vows—your sacred pledges ——” “Can you doubt it, my beloved?” exclaimed the Prince, scarcely knowing how to reply to a series ox arguinents which were incontrovertible. “Do not question me for the present, I implore you: in a few weeks you will cease to have occasion for annoyance on this head. In love there must be a blind con- fidence—an implicit faith—a fall reliance;—or eles it is not a sincere and deeply-rooted affection.” | “Do you for a moment doubt my love?” mur mured Octavia, the tears starting forth upon her long lashes. “Oh! it were cruel indeed to suspect the intensity of that devotion—that idolatry —that wor- ship which I experience towards you. For do you ; know, George, that if you were to prove faithless to | | | | - =< — —.. ce pielnoto SS co