The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

THE DOOMED WOMAN 91 with nervous quickness, and giving vent to bitter lamenta- tions expressive of the anguished memories which thus surged up into her almost frenzied brain. Jocelyn Loftus wept not now. He no longer beheld before him either the cherub-child disporting in the garden of flowers, or the be- trayed and deluded girl returning home in penitence and sorrow to crave a parent’s forgiveness. But he saw before him an inveterate profligate, a vile, dissolute woman, the hideous personification of every gross immorality, a wretch for whom early experiences had no salutary warnings, and who was fitted only to betray all love, all confidence, and break all affectionate hearts. He gazed upon her with a sort of mournful sternness, but she heeded him not, and after another long pause, concluded her narrative in these terms: “Years and years have passed since Ranger died, and varied and checkered has been the existence of her whom he discarded and who was left behind him. Through all kinds of profligacy has she dragged herself, through a morass of vices, pollutions, and infamies has she floundered on, dissolute in respect to herself so long as the fire of her pas- sions lasted and she could find lovers to share in her obscene pleasures. But such a course made her prematurely old, and as dissipation showed its fearful ravages, she became an object for loathing and disgust, instead of for admiration and love. The healthful bloom faded from her cheeks, her hair, once so redundant in its glorious beauty, grew lank and thin, her teeth fell out, her once splendid bust had be- come shrivelled into hideousness, her form wasted into a mere collection of bones covered by a wrinkled and sallow skin. Farewell, then, to all the pleasures of voluptuous delight and sensual joy for her, and it was not the least of the punishments which she endured that her desires out- lived in fevered frenzy the possibility of gratifying them. But to live — what was she to do for the means of subsist- ence? Having been the daughter of crime herself, she now became the mother of iniquity. Vile in its hypocrisies as had been her heart, so vile in its artificialities was her person now rendered. Cosmetics and all the falsities of the toilet: still made her presentable, if no longer lovable, and she tutored herself to adopt an air and a demeanour suited to her new avocation. Deeply versed in intrigue, but no longer able to intrigue for herself, she intrigued for others. (C(O) nn) (C KS a