The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 247: what you’re looking at

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

230 me, I should go mad—or else I should end my days in suicide? I could not survive the loss of your love: it is the air which I breathe—it seems to have ab- sorbed all other ties that bound me to existence ere I knew the happiness of thus loving and being be- loved. And I will tell you what a strange—what a dreadful dream I had the other night :—indeed, it was on the very night following the day on which I[ procured the portrait that I call yours. On retiring to my chamber, and after Pauline was asleep, I sate up for an hour contemplating that picture, and com- paring all its lineaments with your own: for your image is so faithfully and accurately impressed upon my mind, that I see you before me, even when we are separated, as plainly as I behold you now. Well, having studied that portrait until its lips appeared to amile at me and its eyea to look lave to mine, I re- tired to rest. Sleep came upon me; and then me- thought that I was seated with you in a delicious ar- bour. It was Spring-time: the blossoms fed the air with their fragrance—the heavens were of cloudless blue and stainlessly sunny—and the birds carolled in their verdant retreats. We sate gazing upou each other in silence — our looks speaking more elo- quently than our words could have done. Oh! thus fay the dream was elysian: my soul was bathed in happiness ineffable. But suddenly a gorgeous train of nobles and brilliantly-dressed cadies appeared in sight; and starting from your seat—tearing yourself from my arms—you hurried towards the procession, as it to command that it should pass on without re- cognising you. But a name was spoken by some voice—and that name was the Prince of Wales. The sickness of death oame over me—and | fainted. When I returned to consciousness, I fancied that utter darkness had closed in around me Risi from the cold ground to which I had fallen, I groped | My way amidst densely interwoven shrubs and thickly growing trees, the dew from the foliage moistening all my garments and damping my hair which I believed to be streaming wildly and dis- hevelled over my shoulders. Suddenly I saw a light in the distance: I advanced towards it ;—every in- | stant it grew stronger and stronger—until a glorious blaze of lustre flowed from the open portals of a ! ohurch. Impelled by that strange influence which _ hurries us on in our dreams, and which indeed some- ' times prompts us in our actions when we are awake, I entered the sacred edifloe. With trembling steps, and an appalling presentiment of evil lying like a weight of lead upon my heart, I approached the altar, around which I beheld assembled that gorgeous train of nobles and ladies whom I had seen in the earlier portion of my vision. But ome form stood out in proud contrast from all the rest; and that form was thine, my George. “But scareely had my eyes thus settied upon you, when the solemn voice of the . clergyman bestowed the nuptial blessing upon your- _@elfand a lady whose hand you hela in your own. A | rending shriek escaped my lips—and I awoke. Nor wae that shriek a part of the dream—but a real ex- pression of indescribable anguish: for Pauline had | been awakened by it—and, seriousiy alarmed, she in- | quired what was the matter. I soothed her appre- ' hensions on my account by telling her that I had ' experienced a horrible dream, but the nature of which I did not unfold to her. For the remainder of the night my feverish brow pressed a sleepless pillow; and never—never was the dawn of morning more welcome. Oh! this dream has haunted me oftentimes THE MYSTERIES. since—yes, a hundred times during the few days which have elapsed since it occurred.” “But you put no faith in idle visions, my be- loved 2?” said the Prince, more profoundly troubled than before at the strange narrative which had come from Octavia’s lips, and which he would have inter- rupted more than once during the recital, had he not been enchained by the species of fearful and pro- phetic interest wherewith it was invested. “Such a dream is easily accounted for, dearest,” he continued: “you had been gazing on a portrait in which you traced a resemblance to me—it was the predominant idea in yqur mind when aleep fell upon your eyes— and your imagination wreathed a host of wild and romantic fancies into the vivid and strongly-caloured texture of a vision.” “Oh! I am well aware that this is the true mode to account for it,” exclaimed Octavia: “ but it was not the less painful at the time—and the frequent trains of melancholy thought which its remen- brance engenders, distress me occasionally more than I could posaibly make you understand.” - “ Of what nature are those thoughts, my be- loved ?” inquired the Prince, determined to probe the young lady’s mind to the very bottom, since the diseourse had turned on this subject; and moreover, he felt that he was already standing on the verge of an abyss. “ You will only chide me if I give you the expls- nation you desire, dear George,” said Octavia, cast- , ting a timid look upon her lover. “ No—on the contrary, I wish you to be frank and explicit, my angel,” returned the Prince: “for it ia my duty and my desire to tranquillise all your misgivings,” he added insidiously. “ Misgivinga! Oh! I have none when with you,” cried the lovely creature, pressing her lips upon his cheek, ‘But you asked me for an explana- tion of those thoughts which my dream has left behind, and which steal upon me at times in spite of every effort which I make to throw them off, For, when alone, or if at all dispirited, I find my- self giving way to sad imaginings, akin to that fi- sion, and which cause me infinite torture. Ire flect that if you were indeed other than you have represented yourself—if the portrait should prove | to be so perfect a resembiance of you, because you are its real original—and if I have surrendered up my heart, and what is more—my honour—to the | heir-apparent to the throne of these realma—Ohb! then madness or suicide would be the result. For innocence is a balm even to the breaking heart: but that anodyne would not be mine! On 0cts- sions, my thoughts are continued in another strain; —and instead of foreseeing madness or suicide as the crowning catastrophe, it appears to me as if my love would turn to the bitterest hate, aud thas I would oven throw myself at the feet of the Kiog and demand justice against his son, my seducer! But, when Isucceed in arousing my from these most painful reverice, Iam so ashamed—#0 vexed—so angry at having given way to specu tions so wild and to suspicions so injurious, my be- loved George, to you, that I am thrown into a pér- fect fever of excitement; and the blood circulates like lightning in my veins—my ears tinglk—ny tongue grows parched—my temples throb—my eye-balis bura! And now you will pardon mé, my George, for having thus frankly unboeomed myself to you;—and you will ceasa to be asto- COMING oOOKS COL