The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 166: what you’re looking at

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

st THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. 455 elways borne in the presence of the world an un-| be so. He is not without friends: af all events he tainted reputation, falls in love with a young man, inferior in what society has chosen to f gion, he is even generous enough to promise the concealment of her folly—or shall I say her wicked- ness? But she menaces him with a terrible ven- geance. He leaves her with sorrow in his heart that so much depravity can exist, masked by a beauty of the grandest and most lofty character; and he hopes that her repentance may enable him to throw the veil of secrecy over what has occurred. But conceive what his feelings must be when he discovers that this lady, too faithful to her threatened plan of vengeance, deliberately and purposely calls upon her acquaintances and friends in order to pro- pagate a tale entirely to the projudice of this young man.” to look very hard at Lady Saxondale, from whose countenance indeed he had not once removed his eyes during the whole time he was delivering that len addrees. He saw that notwithstanding her natural strength of mind and her proud assurance, she winced at his words—vwrithed under his narra- tive as he developed it—experisnced an increasing confusion—and showed conscious guilt in every lmeament of her countenance. “Ir. Gunthorpe,” she said, with a desperate effort to resume her self-possession, “it would be worse than childish for me to affect ignorance of the allusions you have been making. But, sir,”— and ehe felt her fortitude revive as she went on speaking,—“ if you dare attribute such conduct to me—if you dare put such a version upon whateo- ever passed between Mr. Deveril and myself—I must denounce you as a calumniator and must order you from my presence !”’ “ Be it as you will, madam,” said the old gentle- brimmed hat from the chair on which hoe had depo- sited it in companionship with his gold-headed cane. “But perhaps you are not aware of the course which it will be necessary to take under ex- isting circumstances? Lady Saxondale, I am a rich man—and for no purposé would I sooner dis- pense a portion of my wealth than to procure justice for this Mr. William Deveril whom you have so cruelly and wantonly mjured. Doubtless you thought, Lady Saxondale, that with your high position—your proud name — your lofty station— and, if need were, even with your gold—you might crush at your will that young man? But it shall not hasonein me. And I now warn your ladyship that the tribunals shall be appealed to—an action for de- famation of character shall be commenced against “Enough, sir—enough! I have already heard far too much,” cried Lady Saxondale, starting up from her seat: for she saw that there was now no alternative but to moot the affair with a brazen effrontery—to take a bold and desperate stand—and to bid defiance to a!] menaces and to all hostile pre- ccoodings. “One word more, medam,” said Mr. Gunthorpa, whose manner seemed to be invested with an autho- ritativeness irresistibly powerful, and which despite the resolve to which she had just come, exercised its influence over Lady Saxondale. “You possess two daughtere—two grown-up daughters—young women indeed of a marriageable age, and for whom you are doubtless anxious to seek befitting alliances. Consider, madam, the demoralizing example which your conduct is but too well calculated to set them. Think you that if you push the present deplorable incident to the utmost extreme, nothing will trans- pire detrimental to yourself? Yes—believe me, all the world will put faith in William Deveril’s story in preference to your own; and if the verdict of a jury should stamp you as a calumniatrix, it will by the same decision proclaim you to be nothing more than a demirep. Then, madam, what will become of your daughters ? will their mother’s evil reputa- tion accelerate their chances of forming suitable and proper matrimonial connexions ? And your son too, over whom, as I understand, your autho- rity even at present is by no means well established, —will he regard the exposure of your gross pas- sion for Deveril and your licentious overtures, as a reason why he should become more obedient P Think of all this, Lady Saxondale, ere you precipi- tate matters to an irrevocable extreme. At present you may privately repair the injury done to Deveril in those quarters where you have privately inflicted it. I know that it will be gall and wormwood for you to be compelled to recant your allegations, con- fess that they were calumnies, and give some expla- nation for your sudden hostility towards him; but ten thousand times werse will it be if in a court of justice all the details of the case are brought to light. Now, madam, for the last time, what is your decision ?””’ “TI have nothing more to say, «ir,” responded Lady Saxondale, desperately clinging to the resolve she had already furmed, and to meet all cohse- quences with a brasen - “If I have listened to you so long, it is, I repeat, out of respect for your age——" “ No, Lady Saxondale,” observed Mr. Gunthorpe, showing by his look that he could read to the depths of her heart as plainly as the eye can penetrate through a crystal streamlet to its pebbly bottom; “you have been influenced by no such generous motive, It is fear, Lady Saxondale—far that has made you listen to me to the end——yes, fear I repeat, despite tne powerful efforts which you have exerted and are still exerting to conquer the senti- ment! But I will intrude no longer.” At this moment the door opened from the landing, and Lord Saxondale entered the rom. He was lounging in with that fashionable affectation of jas- as cae ElOOO _ (CO