The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 316: what you’re looking at

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

296 REYNOLDS’ WORKS restore me, or perhaps,” she added, with a mild sadness, ‘‘T may find a tomb beneath the sunny sky of the South.”’ “Good Heaven, Zoe! talk not thus despondingly,” ex- claimed Christina, the tears now gushing forth from her eyes. ‘‘ You will recover,—rest assured that you will recover. It is all the effect of that accident. But now you are weeping.”’ “ And are not you weeping, my sweet friend?” asked Zoe, smiling with a soft sadness through her tears. ‘‘ Come, let us endeavour to cheer each other. I do not think that I shall see you again before I leave England, and it was to bid you farewell that I asked you to visit me to-day. I am rejoiced you have come. I have a little token of my regard for you. Remain here while I go and fetch it.” With these words, Lady Octavian Meredith rose from the sofa, and slowly quitted the room, her every. movement indicating languor and lassitude of the frame. Christina was deeply affected by Zoe’s appearance, and she had indeed a misgiving lest her health had received a shock which it would never recover. She had remained barely a couple of minutes alone, when the door opened, and Lord Octavian Meredith made his appearance. There was hurry and trouble and wildness in his whole manner, and hastily accost- ing our heroine, he abruptly exclaimed, ‘“‘ Christina, I am half-mad. That angel wife of mine has no doubt penetrated the secret of the love with which you have inspired me, — that love is consuming me —”’ At first Christina was filled with confusion and trepidation at the sudden appearance of Octavian, the next moment she was terrified by his manner; but now she said, in an agitated voice, “‘ My lord, I beseech you not to address me in these terms. It is an insult to that wife of yours who is indeed the angel you declare her to be.” “But you must hear me, Christina,’ replied Octavian, who was labouring under the most powerful excitement. “To whom else can I address myself on such a subject, if not to you, — you whom she loves, you who are her friend —”’ ““ My lord, for the very reason that your amiable wife regards me as a friend —”’ “ Christina, it is useless for you to treat me thus. Good heavens, your coldness kills me. Those who love can CORMICOOOK