The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 144: what you’re looking at

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

126 THE COURT OF LONDON a renewal of his persecution in respect to an amiable, inno- cent, and excellent young lady. From that time the Rev- erend Audley Bernard had left Louisa altogether unmolested; indeed, he himself had been for some while absent from Canterbury, doubtless pursuing his profligacies in secret elsewhere. But whithersoever he went, and no matter into what scenes he plunged, still was he followed by the image of the beautiful Louisa. He was continually picturing her to himself, and thus did the fury of his passion grow upon him. It was indeed a fury. Nothing of love’s softness was there in his heart, but the craving of fierce desire; no tender, beaming light shining as a heavenly halo, but the lurid glow and devouring candescence of a volcano. Thus, when he dwelt upon her image, it was not to admire and to worship, but to gloat upon it with lustful ardour. And now, within the last few weeks, he had returned to Canterbury, and on two or three occasions had he seen Louisa in company with Mary Owen, when the two young ladies walked out together. Mary herself was sweetly pretty, as we have already de- scribed, but the minor canon scarcely noticed her at all, so entirely was her beauty outshone by the transcending loveliness of Louisa. The reader cannot have forgotten how matchless indeed were the graces and how inimitable the charms which combined to render Louisa Stanley the most heavenly of earthly beings. Not tall, but so exquisitely shaped, with a sylphid slenderness of figure, and a statuesque modelling of the bust, which was properly full without being voluptuously exuberant, she seemed taller than she really was; and while her step had all the elastic lightness of youth, her bearing was replete with maidenly elegance. The spirit of innocence and truthfulness seemed, as it were, to shine through her. Her dark brown hair, so rich and luxuriant, appeared the velvet drapery that flowed about the alabaster throne of her forehead, where candour and chastity made their chosen seat. Artlessness and innocence were in the expression of her bright coral lips, and in the deep blue eyes, fringed with their long dark lashes. Altogether, she was a being to be loved with the purest and holiest affection, and assuredly it was no fault of hers if in the bad heart of the minor canon her image had inspired so impure a flame. But to resume the thread of our narrative. It was midday, (CO) nn) GDoOo (C(O)