The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 77: what you’re looking at

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

LLL LALLA ALL LLL AAA PARAL ALDARA LAL DEAL AL EDLLAAE ALA LAL AAA AAA ALAA ALLA ALAA DALAL LALLA AALE LAE LAA ALLA LC a te cia iat 62 measured every word that he uttered—calculated every look that he threw towards her—and studied every attitude that he assumed and every move- ment that he made: so that not once—no, not even for a single instant, while they thus remained seated together in the parlour, did Pauline suspect that her agreeable and fascinating companion was otherwise than as represented. Indeed, so well pleased were they with each other, that three hours elapsed ere they fancied that even one had passed away since the first moment that they met. It was now ten o’clock—and Pauline prepared supper, of which they partook together; and thus the time was again whiled rapidly away, until eleven. Then the young lady began to grow anxious for the return of her sister: but Florimel was perfectly cer- tain that Octavia would not come home until the morning! He accordingly affected to be getting sleepy, in the hope of inducing Pauline to retire to rest without delay; and she proposed to conduct her new friend to the spare-chamber, observing that she must sit up to await her sister’s return. Florimel apologised for his drowsiness, and declared his inten- tion of keeping her company in her vigil :—and thus another hour passed. Midnight struck—and still Octavia came not. “You are uneasy respecting your sister?” said the disguised nobleman, in a soothing tone. “ She promised to return by eleven, at the latest,” answered Pauline. “Perhaps something of importance may detain her?” suggested Florimel, anxious to elicit, if pos- sible, the nature of the excuse which Octavia made for her absence. “Tt may indeed be so,” said Pauline, in a musing tone. “She went out shopping -yesterday evening ; and as she was passing along Oxford Street, she saw an elderly lady run over by a hackney-coach. My sister was the first to hasten to the assistance of the suflerer, who happened to live close by. Octavia accordingly aided her to reach her home; and the lady besought her to remain with her for a few hours. This request was granted; and it was past eleven when my sister returned home. This evening she thought it would be but courteous and humane to call and inquire after the patient; and as the old lady dwells entirely alone, Octavia foresaw that she would ask her to pass a little time with her. She however promised to come back by eleven at the latest; and now,” added Pauline, glancing uneasily at the watch which Mrs. Smith had given her, “it is a quarter after twelve.” “My dearest Miss Clarendon,” said Florimel, “there is nothing in your sister’s prolonged absence to make you uneasy. I can readily understand the cause of it. The elderly lady is all alone, you tell me—and she is perhaps worse. Your sister, who is no doubt as kind-hearted as yourself, will not aban- don the sufferer in such cruel circumstances; and she very naturally concludes that you will not fail to conjecture the reason of her absence.” “Oh! thank you for thus suggesting an explana- tion,” cried Pauline, her countenance brightening up. “ Yes—it must be as you suppose: at all events, I will not compel you to sit up any longer on my account.” “And as your sister is not here,” said Florimel, with a palpitating heart, “there is no necessity for us to separate even though we retire to rest.” eee ER —————— THE MYSTERIES. “If you do not object to take Octavia’s place by my side,” responded Pauline, with artless cheerful- ness, “I shall be delighted to have you as a com- panion.” With these words, the ingenuous and unsuspecting maiden secured the front door and led the way to her bed-chamber. ts CHAPTER XIX, THE VIRGIN AND THE VOLUPTUARY. As Lord Florimel followed the beauteous Pauline up the stairs, that pang which had already smitten him, again shot through his heart: for the reader will remember that we have described him as being by no means naturally deficient in generous senti- ments ;—and now that his atrocious perfidy seemed to be approaching its consummation, those finer feel- ings that lay crushed and subdued beneath the in- fluence of voluptuous passions and selfish desires, suddenly put forth a latent power. But it was when he crossed the threshold of the virgin sanctuary and the door of the bed-chamber was closed behind him,—it was then that his remorse became invested with a horror such as he had never known nor ex- perienced before. Sinking upon a chair, he pressed his hand to his brow as if to steady the thoughts that were racking his brain: and Pauline, observing his emotion, though very far from suspecting the cause, smoothed down his hair with the unpremeditated manner of one who Offers a tender sympathy,—observing at the same time, “ My poor friend, you feel unhappy at the idea of passing the night beneath a stranger’s roof.” These words, falling upon the ears of the young nobleman in all the silver melody of Pauline’s sweet voice, and the simultaneous contact of her warm hand which swept over his forehead, produced an effect upon him as if lightning had been suddenly poured into his veins: and, taking that hand, he pressed it to his lips in the rapture of a passion which the unsuspicious maiden believed to be a grateful friendship. “No, my dearest Pauline,” he said,—* for you will permit me to call you by your Christian name, as I must henceforth be Gabrielle to you,—I am not un- happy on account of this temporary absence from home: indeed, I rejoice at the incident, disagreeable in itself though it were, which drove me to seek an asylum beneath this roof—inasmuch as it has made me acquainted with you. We have not known each other quite six hours—and I already feel that I love you as a sister.” “ We will be friends, Gabrielle,” responded the artless Pauline. “I have often longed to possess a sincere and dear friend—one of about my own age, and whom I could take a fancy to at first sight: for as my sister’s ideas and thoughts so completely cor- respond with my own, we never have anything now to say to each other—no little confidences to impart —no advice mutually to seek——” “T understand you, my dear Pauline,” interrupted Florimel, enchanted at the turn which the conversa- tion was taking; “and I can assure you that I have often felt just as you describe. Yes—I have longed to form a friendship with some young lady of about my own age s COMA EloOOKS .EORN