The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 345: what you’re looking at

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

EN a a ona gers —- lative —— a collar of his coat. F THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. ——_ ee 32 RR tts Douglas ultimately agreed to accompany him to | were suddenly thrown, still was there a strong Leveson House. lurid beam penetrating them with a horrible clear- Onarriving there, the Baronet was at once ness, bringing forth in dread relief the fact that eonducted into an apartment where he found the Marquis alone, but pacing to and fro in a state of dreadful excitement and agitation. * Good heavens, Leveson,” he exclaimed, “ what is the matter ?” “Tell me, Huntingdon—tell me, before I speak a word to the point,” said the Marquis of Leveson, advancing hurriedly, and seizing the Baronet by the hand,—* tell me whether there is any ill feeling on your part towards me?” “Not a whit!” cried Sir Douglas: “on the contrary, I was fearful that you would break off your friendship with me on account of my in- trusion upon your proceedings at so critical a moment the day before yesterday. But, my dear Leveson, as you called at Stratton Street and saw Miss Bathurst on that morning, you are of course acquainted with the entire mystery re- ? «“ Ah! my dear Huntingdon, all the Miss Bathursts, and Clara Stanleys, and Venetias in the world are at this moment nothing to me,” interrupted the Marquis: “for you see before you one of most miserable of men ss “Indeed! I do observe that you are pale anil agitated—very pale,” cried the Baronet. “But what is the matter? Is there anything I can do for you? ‘Though having troubles enough of my own at this noment—what with the burning down of my house—the loss of a young lady in whom I had suddenly conceived the deepest interest ——” “Oh! now, now Iam more wretched than ever !” exclaimed the Marquis, “ Huntingdon—my ho- nour, almost my life, is in your hands——” ‘*Good heavens! what mean you?” cried the Baronet, nearly as much stunned as he was be- wildered. ** Will you swear to screen me—swear to hold me harmless—swear not to betray me——” “Yes, yes—I will swear anything, relieve me from this torturing suspense.” “Kuow, then, that the young lady whom you have lost———” “Good God! hasshe fallen into your hands ?” * Yes—-but I knew not——~” “Where is she ?—where is she?” exclaimed Sir Douglas Huntingdon, seizing the Marquis by the * Oh! if you have dared to | harm a hair of her head——— “ Heavens! how shall I tell you the dreadful _ truth!” almost yelled forth the wretched Marquis as he writhed in the grasp of the Baronet. “ Villain, you have ravished her !” thundered Sir Douglas, hurling the Marquis from him with terrific violence: then dashing his open palms forcibly against his brow in all the wild fury of excitement, be exclaimed, “ Would to God! that y mi had reported her death to me, rather than this !” “Ter death—her death!” repeated the Mar- quis, leaning upon the chair against which the Baronet had flung him: “ yes—it is her death that I have to report——for she is a spotless vir- gin so far as [ am concerned!” The Baronet staggered back a few paces, and then reeled as if seized with a sudden vertigo; for er the confusion into which his ideas — —— -—-— SS ——._ --—- ——— if you only the young girl was no more! “Dead!” he at length muttered between his teeth: “dead, do you say ?” he repeated in a low thick voice, as with a pale countenance and with wildness in his eyes he gazed upon the Marquis. * Yes—she is dead,” answered Leveson: “aud if all my fortune could bring her back to life, it | should be surrendered up.” “ Tell me how this happened,” said the Baronet, pressing his hands to his brow as if to steady his reeling brain: then sitting down, he appeared to await the explanations with the vacancy of look and the abstracted manner of one whose senses are in a whirl. “J will tell you all—everything,” said the Mar- quis, in a hurried tone of breathless agitation: “and then must I throw myself upon your mercy. In the middle of the night some men brought that girl hither—-I knew not who she was—I never saw her before—IL had not bargained with them for the service which they thus thrust upon me. The men told some tale about you and the young girl hav- ing been together at a hut on Shooters’ Hill.” “Ah! then I understand who the villains were,” exclaimed the Baronet, indignation once more bringing back the colour to his cheeks. “But go on—go on.” “They brought the girl here, then, after the fire at your house,” resumed the Marquis; “and she was received into the mansion. Believing her, in plain truth, to have been your mistress, I fan- cied that her coyness was assumed: and perhaps I was too hasty—too importunate. At all events she sought refuge in that very room which con- tains the chairs—you know what chairs I mean— and sinking into one, t the fright I presume was too much for her—and—and she died!” “Poor Ariadne!” murmured the Baronet to himself: and averting his head, he dashed away a tear. * On my life,” continued the Marquis, “I have told you the truth, Huntingdon. I have explained the events precisely as they took place; and L need scarcely say that every possible remedy and restorative was applied ——” * Enough, enough!” ejaculated Sir Douglas, suddenly. ‘Let me see her.” This command, uttered with a stern and abrupt imperiousnes:, was at once obeyed by the Marauis of Leveson; and he conducted the Baronet to the room where Ariadne lay. On the threshold of the chamber, Sir Douglas turned suddenly round and motioned the Marquis not to follow him: then closing the door abruptly, he remained alone in the chamber with the dead. Advancing slowly, hesitatingly, and with a sensa- tion of awe, to the side of the couch, Sir Douglas Huntiogdon beheld all that remained of Ariadne Varian, stretched like a beautiful statue before his eyes. Her light hair, swept entirely away from her | brows, fell back over the pillow upon which her head rested,—thus revealing the whole of that sweet countenance, with the delicately chiselled avd faultless features on which a smile of angelic resignation appeared to rest, as if in the very mo- ment of dissolution she had experienced the cer- tainty that she was about to pass from the woes of | COnnicloooks (CO)