The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 314: what you’re looking at

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THE MYSTERIES. 299 The young girl had not retired to rest. Seated at a table, on which her elbow rested—and with her heal supported languidly upon her hand—she had a book before her: but, though her eyes were fixed upon it, she evidently was not reading. Her entire attitude as well as the expression of her countenance denoted deep thought. She was plunged ina pro- found reverie: and the subject of her meditations was not of a joyous description—for on each pale cheek a tear glistened in the feeble rushlight. She had not as yet made the slightest preparation for retiring to rest. Her hair was still in the graceful bands in which she wore it, and in which arrange- | ment it set off her intellectually beautiful and sweetly pensive countenance. Her deep mourning dress displayed the dazzling fairness of her com- plexion to its greatest advantage, and likewise de- veloped the perfect symmetry of her sylphide form. For several minutes did the royal voluptuary con- template his intended victim by means of the key- hole; and the longer he gazed upon her, the more ardently did he burn to possess her. And that she would become his prey beyond all possibility of salvation or rescue, he did not doubt: for well aware was he that every chamber in this de- partment of the milliner’s establishment was so skil- fully and artfully arranged that no screams to which the tongue might give vent in one room could be heard in another. Besides, even if it were not so, the inmates of Mrs. Brace’s abode were nut of a cha- tacter likely to afford the succour which even the acutest lamentation or the most rending entreaties might implore. And with truth did we observe that the reverie of Camilla Morton was far from felicitous: for she did entertain suspicions not only with regard to the respectability of Mrs. Brace’s establishment, but likewise concerning the good faith and siucerity of the milliner herself. The incidents of the pre- ceding Sunday evening had opened the eyes of the young girl, artless and confiding as she was. The attempt of the guest, whom she only knew as Mr. Harley, to kiss her hand had shocked her for the moment; and the indignant glance which she threw upon him expressed all the dignity of her maidenhood smarting under an insult. But on re- tiring to her own chamber, the suspicion already engendered in her mind kindled into the worst fears; and her sleepless pillow was moistened with the orphan's bitter weeping. No wonder was it, then, that Mrs. Brace had since observed an al- teration in her manner ;—-and now—on this Wed- nesday night on which we find her plunged in deep thought at that midnight hour, and in the solitude of her own room—she is deliberating what course she ought to pursue. Alasi alas!—now is it that the poor girl expe- riences all the loneliness of her position in the world, Her parents have been snatched away from her: she has nota relative, to her knowledge, upon the face of the earth. Like the keen and eutting blast of December blowing upon the naked form of the shivering mendicant, comes the piercing and icy sense of her utter isolation to the heart of the young orphan girl. In Mrs. Brace she had hoped to find a mother. Pure, innocent, upsuspicious, and confiding, she beheld a matronly kindness in the woman’s man- ner which speedily won her naturally warm and in- experienced heart. The rigid decorum which owé- wardly reigned amongst the young ladies led her to regard them with a sisterly affection. She was therefore at first completely happy—or rather as happy as amaiden who had so recently lost her parents could possibly hope to be. But suddenly the film fell from her eves —the veil was torn rudely away—and one little incident threw all her ideas and sentiments respecting the house and its in- mates into another channel. Receiving as it were new intuitions, she now recognised the impropriety of Mrs. Brace’s conduct in sending her with a note to Lord Florimel: ang she remembered how in- tently the eyes of Mr. Harley were fixed upon her at supper on the Sunday evening. In spite of her purity —in spite of her artlessness—in spite of her ignorance on many matters, the maiden had ob- tained a glimmering of the truth; and the exercise of her reason soon developed her comprehensive faculties to an extent sufficient to produce the con- viction that the milliner meditated anything rather than a mother’s part towards her. Behold her, then, seated in the solitude of her chamber and at this midnight hour, revolving in her imagination the best means of quitting Mrs. Brace’s establishment as soon as possible. Sho did not like toreveal with abruptness the motive which prompted her to take so decisive a step; for she thought within herself that if her suspicions should happen to be unfounded in respect to the milliner, how grieved she would be at having pro- claimed them. And yet she must make up her mind speedily—it was a matter admitting not of delay—and all timidity or hesitation must be con- quered in order to accomplish a duty. Camilla, then, determined to quit the house on the ensuing morning: already had she acted with weakness in remaining there three whole days after the inci- dent of Sunday evening! Such were the thoughts occupying her imagina- tion, when a sound, as if the handle of the door were turning, fe:l upon her ears. She started from her seat—the door opened— and Mr. Harley stood before her! A scream burst from the maiden’s lips: then, the first feeling of terror passing away in a moment, the warm blood of indignation surged up to her cheeks—her brow—her very ears! * Adorable girl,” exclaimed the Prince, extend- ing his arms towards her,—“look not thus angrily upon me! Blame not me—blame your beauty which possesses irresistible fascinations.” The temporary courage with which anger had armed the orphan, abandoned her suddenly as these words fell upon her ears with the effect of a shock; and sinking upon a seat, she burst into tears. “My dearest Camilla,” exclaimed the Prince, closing the door behind him,—“ this is but a sorry reception which you give me. Hear me, my angel —hear me declare that I adore you—that I will never cease to love you—that I will do all I can to render you happy. Come—permit me to kiss away the tears from those beauteous eyes id “ Begone, sir!” ejaculated the maiden, a burning sense of outrage restoring to her the courage which she had lost. “Begone, sir!” she cried, starting from the chair and pointing towards the door, “ One word, Camilla—only one word!” said the Prince, quite prepared for this opposition to his | desires. GoOIMIG 6)(0)©) C'S), (C(O)