The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 238: what you’re looking at

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

THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. 223 oal<——s————————— OOOO “ Juliana,” said Lady Saxondale, speedily recover- | compassion for her unhappy parent,—“ my child, ing her presence of mind—or rather, we should say, an unnatural degree of composure,—“ tell me, I conjure you—tell me, unhappy girl—am I to sup- pose the worst—the very worst ?” “You are to suppose, mother, exactly as much as you happen to know,” was the coldly insolent reply given by her daughter. “I presume you have been watching my chamber; and therefore it is use- less to deny anything, even did I consider it worth while to condescend to a denial.” “ Oh! this is enough to drive me mad!” exclaimed Lady Saxondale, again losing all power of self- command and wringing her hands in mingled rage and anguish. “Good heavens! an intrigue with a menial 3 *¢ And why not I with a menial, as you con- temptuously denominate him, as well as yourself with an artist?”—and as Juliana thus spoke, she bent a look of the haughtiest defiance upon her | mother. “ Ah! I understand,” muttered Lady Saxondale, with white and quivering lips. “I have been be- trayed:”—and she alluded to Edmund, thinking that he had told his sisters everything which she had 60 positively enjoined him to keep secret. “ For your satisfaction and peace of mind in one respect,” said Juliana, “I can faithfully promise that no one has betrayed you; but I and Constance happened to overhear every word which took place | the other day between yourself and Mr. Gunthorpe. And therefore I repeat, if a lady of quality can con- descend to offer herself as the paramour of an artist, | whose humble calling she affects to despise, there can be no harm in her daughter taking a leaf out | of the same book.” what has been done cannot be undone; but in the name of God! persevere not in a course which must end in dishonour and disgrace. O heavens! I tremble to think of the consequences!” “ Now, mother, listen,” said Juliana. “TI really do not seek to wound your feelings unnecessarily : I would not have uttered a word respecting you and William Deveril, had it not been in self-defence— that is to say, to ward off the explosion of your anger against myself. This course, you must under- stand, was natural enough. To be frank, I love this youth, all menial though he be, with a pas- sionate deyotion. I knew that I could not marry him-—even as you felt that you could not marry the young artist; and. I did as you would have done——” “Enough! we must say no more upon the sub- ject,” interrupted Lady Saxondale, again recovering her cold and unnatural state of composure. “It is too shocking! But henceforth, Juliana, how can we look each other in the face P” * We must dissemble, my dear mother,” re- sponded the young lady, with the assumed gaiety of an effrontery that is combined with a readiness of suggestion. “ You cannot be altogether a stranger to the necessity of dissimulation, nor inexperienced in the art thereof, woman of the world as you are: and for my part, I am old enough to manage for pee Let us go on very quietly, my dear mother, | —you pursuing your own course and acting accord- ing to your own inclinations, but leaving me free to do the same. Those are the terms upon which we must henceforth live together.” Lady Saxondale was about to say more—perhaps to entreat her daughter to renounce her intrigue “ Juliana,” exclaimed Lady Saxondale, stamping with the page and consent to his prompt removal her foot upon the floor, ‘that 1 am as pure and immaculate in respect to that young man to whom you have alluded——” from the house; but if so, a second thought must have told her that Juliana possessed a spirit im- | patient of dictation, and that at all events at the “Yes, my dear mother ; but it is not your own present moment she was in a mood to assert her in- merit that you are so,” responded Juliana, with a contemptuous sneer. self the credit of a virtue which you do not possess : for if you did not throw yourself into William | Deveril’s arms, it was for the simple reason that they were not open to receive you.” Lady Saxondale sank down upon a chair like one annihilated. She felt all that was disgraceful, de- moralizing, and unnatural in this scene on the part | of a mother and her daughter. Her veins appeared to run with molten lead—her brain was on fire. all the torture of which was concentrated within and testified itself in no other external wildness than the workings of her countenance. She screamed not—she shricked not—she did not dash herself on the floor nor against the wall; but yet for a few minutes she felt as if she were a prey to a raging macness. Juliana the while continued to dress her hair; but she also felt that it would be an infinite relicf when this scene was over, no matter how it should ind. “ Juliana—my child,” said Lady Saxondale, at length slowly rising from her seat, and approaching her daughter with a look so dismal, so dreary, so woe-begone that Juliana, who was not devoid of | It was a subdued frenzy that she experienced—a frenzy | dependence with the boldest effrontery. Her lady- “You must not take to your- | ship accordingly held her peace; and turning ab- ruptly round, quitted the room. There is no power of language to describe the state of mind in which the unhappy mother found herself now. And well might she beso! All her children scemed not only inclined to rebel against _ against her, but to use such rebellion as the means “of securing impunity for their own vicious courses. Edmund had reduced her to submission and to his own terms, that he might continue in a career of proflizacy and extravagance:—Juliana, beyond all doubt fallen from the pedestal of virtue, had like- wise used coercion to prevent interference with her licentious amour:—and what hove had the mise- rable mother that Constance would prove more dutiful or more virtuous? “ Perhaps even she was already fallen?—for Lady Saxondale was not en- tirely without her suspicions that her younger daughter still sustained a correspondence with the Marquis of Villebelle. Lady Saxondale dared think nv more upon the subject: she endeavoured te escape from thought as one would fling off the coils of a hideous reptile, or flee from the spectres haunt- ing one in @ vision:—but the task was difficult indeed ! After having passed a quarter of an hour in her ee some generous feelings, was suddenly smitten with own chamber to compose her feelings as well as she a A a a a MICLOOKS (CO) (CO)