The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 327: what you’re looking at

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

316 THE MYSTERIES OF TNE COURT. there at the moment, the beautifal countenance of | and as he spoke, his looks sent upward a mute but the youth, his classio-shaped head, and the expres- | eloquent thanksgiving for his deliverance. aon of hus features, would have proved a fine stady. The complexion of his face was slightly embrowned by a long residence in the Italian clime; but his neck, and #0 much of his shoulders as the open shirt revealed, were as white as the skin of a woman. One hand rested beneath his head—the other lay outside the bed-clothes. And a beautifully modelled hand was it, with and almond- shaped nails that the fairest scion of the aristocracy might have envied him the of. In a few minutes the door opened, dnd the woman whom he had rescued from the water made her appearance. She came alone; and shutting the door, sat down by the bed in which Deveril was lying. *T am not accustomed,” she at onee began in her harsh disagreeable voice, “to much softness of feeling; but I could not possibly go away without saying that I do possess sufficient to render mo grateful for your noble conduct. How do you feel wow? Are you better?” Extraordinary was it that at the very instant the woman asked theese questions, Deveril felt a sudden return of that sense of exhaustion which had seised upon him on the river’s bank. It was no doubt a faintness produced by the fatigue of sitting up in bed to partake of the food he had eaten, and also by having conversed with the woman of the during the whole time. He murmured that he felt very ill—asked for water—and ere it could be given , him, sank off into unconsciousness again. When he opened his eyes, the woman was bending over him, bathing his head with a wet towel; and an a few minutes he recovered completely. She now gave him a glass of water, and questioned him with an earnestness amounting to even a degree of anxiety as to how he felt. He assured her that he was rouch better ;—and now, as his eyes regained their complete power of vision, and the light of the candle fell upon the woman’s countenance, it occurred to him that she was gasing upon him with a singular expression in which interest and curiosity appeared to be blended. Slowly did she resume her seat by the side of the bed; and again she asked if he felt’ better P “'Yee—much better,” he returned. ‘1 do not even feel as if I had s0 recently experienced a faint- ing fit again.” “Do you think that withoat exhausting yourself,” inquired the woman, “you could talk to me for a few minutes?” “No doubt,” replied Deveril. © But, my poor ereature, I do not wish you to say any more to your gratitude.” “ And I begin to do so: but I did not diways,”_ quickly rejoined the woman. “Do not interrupt me,” she continued, perceiving that he was agai stricken by the singularity of her looks and len- guage: “you are too weak to talk more than is necessary. Nevertheless I wish you would answer me 8 few questions: but don’t inquire why I put them. Your name is Wiliam Deveril: I saw it on your card just now amongst the things taken out of the pockets of your wet clothes. You are the same, then, who fought with Lord Harold Staunton? Ah, poor young man! no wonder you are weak and enfeebled. ‘Yet weak and enfeebled as you are, you perilled your life for me. Were it for a beaati- ful creature of sixteen, the act would still have been noble: but for a miserable wretch such as I am, it is beyond all praise!”—and again did the singular woman gaze with a peculiar expression upon Deveril’s countenance: then she muttered, to herself, “ Dark hair—dark eyes—delicate aquiline features—short upper lip, with an aristocratic curl —beautiful teeth, white as pearls, and faultlessly even———” “Tf” eaid Deveril, with a good-natured sruile, “these are your questions, I really cannot bear them.” “Yes, singularly brilliant teeth,” mutterad the woman to herself, as that smile revealed the objects of her admiration. “ But to the point,” she spoke aloud. “ Do you know who your father was?” “TI hope so,” replied Deveril, again smiling; for the question struck him as almost ludicrously singular. “and I revere his memory.” “Then he is dead? How long ago did he die?” asked the woman. It immediately occurred to Deveri) ¢:at the woman really belonged to the gipsy tribe, and that she was about to exercise the craft of her race in fortune- ing: but being naturally too good-natured fo offend her, he again smiled, saying, “If you have well that I arn in no state fora prolonged discourse.” “I knew you would interrupt me with these obser- vations,” remarked the woman. “In this world one dares not ask a question without stating the why and the because. But will you believe me that my objects are important; and therefore if you unnecessarily, it will be your own fault.” “ Proceed then: I will humour you,” said Deveril, again being struck by the manner in which the woman regarded him, as well as by the mingled sincerity and gravity with which shespoke. “ Pro- “I am not going to say another word upon the | ceed.” subject. Perhaps I may be enabled to prove by deeds—which are better than words—that I am grateful: for you have saved my life. And who knows but that it was intended for me to trip upon the bank and fall into the river that you might have en upportunity of saving me?” Intended?’ echoed Deveril, gazing upon the bersh repulsive features of the woman with un- Seigned astonishment. “ Yoo-—intended,” she said: “I mean, by heaven. E suppose, young man, you believe in Providence ?” “TI asked you how long ago your father died ?” “ And on his death-bed did he tell you nothing? cid he leave no particular documents behind him ?” “ Good heavens! what mean you? wherefore these questions ?”’ cried Deveril. “Do not excite yourself,” said the woman. “You must really let me go on in my own way: bat you begin to perceive that it is aot through mere imper- tinent caricsity I am questioning you. However, if you feel excited now, I will meet you any where “Indeed I do—most sincerely !” replied Dever ; | you like to-morrow.” really nothing of importance to say to me, you can: understand COUMIUC NOOK CO