The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 107: what you’re looking at

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

THE ROYAL LOVER’S VICTIM 85 Subduing by a tremendous effort the emotions which struggled to burst forth and which nearly choked her, Pauline laid her hand gently upon Octavia’s shoulder. The unfortu- nate young lady awoke, as it were, with a sudden start from her profound reverie, and looking up into Pauline’s counte- nance, she gazed long and intently on those features which she had kissed a thousand, thousand times, but which she remembered not now. “Do you not recollect me, dearest, dearest Octavia? ”’ asked Pauline, in a faint and scarcely audible tone; and she would have thrown herself upon her sister’s neck and wept upon her bosom, had she not been emphatically enjoined to abstain from any demonstration of feeling calculated to excite the unfortunate girl. ‘“‘ Yes, I recollect you,” responded Octavia, after a long pause, during which she continued to gaze earnestly up into her sister’s face: ‘“‘ you are a good genius who has often visited me in my dreams and kissed me when I was asleep. I am not afraid of you, as I am of other people who present themselves before me. You are the goddess of sweet flowers, and bright sunbeams, and everything joyous and glad; and I have already learned to love you, though this is the first time that I have seen you save in the visions of the night. But oh, wherefore do you weep, angel that you are? ” cried Octavia, starting to her feet and pressing her sister’s hand tenderly. For the tears rained in torrents down Pauline’s cheeks. ‘Ah! now I perceive that it is not only mortals who weep,” continued Octavia, in a tone of ineffable sadness, which made her sister’s tears flow more thickly and fast, ““ but the good beings who live in heaven can likewise shed those pearly drops. But why do you weep now? Is it for me that you are mournful? Oh, weep on, then, weep sweet angel, for I am unhappy, very, very unhappy.” on, And, as she spoke, she dropped in a listless manner the hand of her sister, who, now utterly unable to resist the strong current of her emotions, sank upon a chair convulsed with grief. “ This is indeed most singular,” said Octavia, in a musing tone, as her eyes were fixed compassionately upon her sister, that sister whom she did not recognize. ‘‘ It was but last night I dreamed that you came to see me; and I fancied that = — (C(O) MICOO