The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

34 THE COURT OF LONDON ‘Tell me what has happened — do not keep me in sus- pense!” cried the earl, tortured with the cruellest appre- hensions. “That villain demands another interview with me,” answered the countess, her eyes flashing brighter fires than the brightest eyes of woman had ever before shot forth, and her whole form quivering with terrible feelings. ‘The miscreant!’’ ejaculated the earl, clenching his fingers with such spasmodic violence that the nails made deep indentations in the palms of his hands. ‘ But by what means has he conveyed this request? ”’ ‘““ Request,’ echoed the countess, with an indescribable bitterness; “’tis a command — an imperious command! The villain has had the audacity to send me a letter, declar- ¥ ing that he insists upon seeing me this evening at nine o’clock — ”’ ‘Ah! dares the prince make another attempt?” cried the earl, his own countenance becoming pale with rage and his lips growing ashy and quivering. “No, no, ’tis not for that!’’ exclaimed Eleanor. ‘‘ The man whose name I cannot mention has received his pardon through the intervention of the prince, and he therefore defies you and persecutes me.”’ ‘But why does he demand this interview?” cried the earl. ‘‘ Does he not know enough of you to be con- vinced that you would prefer death, rather than yield again — ”’ “© God! do not allude to my past frailty, Francis,” exclaimed the countess, wildly. ‘‘ You will drive me mad. But pardon this excitement,’’ she immediately added, in a gentler tone, as she took her husband’s hand and pressed it to her lips. ‘‘ No, the villain does not desecrate the name of love by addressing me in such terms or with such a hope. But he demands money, and he orders me — yes, orders me — to meet him this night at nine o’clock with five thousand pounds, as the only condition on which he swears to leave me unmolested for the future.” ‘The sum is nothing, Eleanor,” said the nobleman, in a musing tone; “ but the man’s oath — ” ‘‘Ts valueless,’ added the unfortunate lady, with a bitter emphasis. ‘‘ Besides, the excitement is killing me. I cannot live in the constant terror of receiving some new proof of Gomichbooks m