The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 347: what you’re looking at

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$34 with recoil, trembling, or shudder, to the dreadful influence of those thoughts. And now, with the extremest poignancy was the fact presented to ner mind that she was not even xearly dead, but that her state was one presenting that phenomenon so strange, so awful, and so terrible in the history of human nature! The horror produced by all these thoughts gradually merged into the more stupifying state of consternation; and then a dreamy repose stole over the young maiden. Obiivion supervened; and thus for a while were her senses steeped in forgetfulness. How long this interval lasted, she however knew not; and when she retarned to con- sciousness she became aware that her posture on the couch was somewhat changed. She was now lying completely on her back; and she felt that her arms were placed close by her sides, and that her feet were likewise in close and parallel contact. Next she perceived, by the sensation, that some- thing was fastened under her chin; and as she be- gan to ponder upon the méaning of all this, the recollection of what had passed just previously to the last interval of oblivion slowly came back to her mind, until at length the awful—the crushing —the appelling thought settled in her soul, that she was laid out as a corpse! Horror of horrors! With fall, poignant, and vivid keenness, did all her consciousness return : and she once more became possessed of every faculty of perception. There was no doubt as to her actual position: she knew it—she understood it—she felt it all. She was believed to be dead— she was laid out in the usual manner ere being consigned to the coffia—and the winding-sheet already wrapped her form! The thought of all this was maddening, maddening. Her brain ap- peared to be on fire—and the sensation of gnawing flames had she also at the heart, though that heart beat not. Her eyelids were closed—nor could she open them: nevertheless lightnings sppeared to flash before her vision. It was horrible, horrible, to experience all this, and yet not be able so much as to relieve the harrowed feelings with a shudder orashriek. For when something dreadful meets the eye or strikes apon the mind, it is a relief to shudder in recoil or to send forth an ejaculation from the lips. But here was the unhappy gir! bound as it were in the adamantine chains of utter petrifaction—a marble body with a soul of fre— incapable of performing the least fanction of life, and yet inspired with ali life’s keenest and acutest sensations | All the faculties belonging to the mind seemed to have concentrated in themselves the vitality which natarally belonged to the body; and all the senses were sharpened to even a painfal degree. Thas she could hear sounds the faintest and slightest imaginable—such as insects picking in the wood of the bedstead with the noise of the deathwatch { She could smell the olean linen which wrapped her as a winding-sheet, and whioh, perhaps from the nature of the soap used in wash- ing it, had a oertain earthy odour that made it indeed appear the raiment of the dead. She could feel all the plaits and folds of these cere- ments as they lay loose upon one portion of her form and tighter on another: she could feel the linen passivng round her head, end the cambrio chat was tiod as a bandage to hold up her ohin. THB MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. Through her closed lids could her eyes perceive the | light of the sun streaming through the curtains of the window facing the couch—those beams which borrowed a deeper redness from the hue of those . curtains! Thus were her senses acaminated to the keenest edge; and as the body was left mo- tionless, those faculties appeared to exercise themselves with all the concentration of vitality which they had absorbed as it were from the physical powers. In the midst of her harrowing thought she heard the door open, and the housekeeper’s voice say in a low and mournfal tone, “ Walk in—walk in, Mr. Stimson—walk in.” Then the door was closed again very gently ; and two persons advanced up to the side of the bed—the housekeeper and the man whom she had called Mr. Stimson. “ What a sweet corpse the deer girl does make,” said the housekeeper, assuming a whimpering tone and heaving three or four deep-drawn sighs, “Ah! Mr. Stimson, she wasn’t here many hours, but I really had taken quite a fancy to her—she was so amiable and good: and I do believe thet in the same short time she grew quite as fand of me.” ; “Poor young lady!” returned Mr. Stimson, ia a hollow and lugubrious voice. “ How come it all about, ma’am ?” “Why, you see, Mr. Stimson,” resumed ths housekeeper, “this young lady was staying at Sir Douglas Hantingdon’s, and his house was burnt down last night. Such rapid progress did the firo make, that the dear girl well nigh fell a sacrifices to the flames; bat a couple of noble-hearted geo- tlemen—one an officer in the Guards, and the other the son of a Bishop—rescued her at the peril of their lives; and the officer wrapped her up in his great military cloak. Then she was put into a hackney-coach that was passing at the time; and as Sir Douglas is very intimate here, he thought the best thing he oould do was to send her to be taken care of by Lady Ernestina. The fright which the young lady received from the fire was no doubt dreadful; but we thought she had quite recovered, and didn’t dream that she was in any possible danger. But about ten o'clock this morning the poor dear creature seemed to be taken so bad suddenly, that we got quite alarmed; and before we could even send for the doctor she was dead. Lord bless you, Mr. Stimson, she went off jost like a child going to sleep in its mother’s arms ;—and with her dear head, poor young creature, pillowed on my bosom, she breathed her last.” “Well, ma'am,” said Mr. Stimson, “it’s a wery great saytisfaction for you to know that you did your best, while death was doing his wust,—and that she went off like that there, with her head on your buazzim. She’s as lovely a corpee as ever I had the measuring of.” “Yes,” whimpered the housekeeper; “ hasn't she got a sweet pretty face—and her flesh is just like wax. Poor thing! the worms will soon make havoc apon it.” ‘Poor thing!” echoed Mr. Stimson, in his deep sepuichral voice, which be purposely made as hollow and lugubrious as possible. “ The wams indeed will prey upon the poor gal” , Je can scarcely be necessary to inform the reader ' ¢ ee a> ft oe -_ Ce ~ = a =e Sc OD ELOOO® Ss