Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 256: what you’re looking at

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

Pickwick Abread. 207 tion is frail and feeble. You—Madam—his wife—you must seek him out—’tis for you to undertake that important task—and, if you love him, Madam:—warn hin—bid him beware, Madam—not to set foot in the Palais-Royal this evening. To-morrow I will explain all;—at present, I can say no more!”’ Emilie fell back upon the sofa, crying, ““O God! what new afflic- tions have you in store for me ? what have I done to merit thy dis- pleasure ?” I dared not attempt to soothe her—I seated myself once more—and maintained a long unbroken silence, during which Madame D’Arly gave way to the wildness of a grief that developed itself in the most appalling paroxysms. Presently she became calm, and turning towards me, said, ‘Sir, whoever you may be—you are evidently a fnend— @ guardian angel sent to warn my husband of his desperate situation. And [I love that husband, Sir—oh! I love him beyond all power of description. I dote upon him, despite of his unkindness towards me —I cling to him the more firmly, as his predicament becomes the more deplorable. I refuse with scorn the base offers of the nobles of the land, who would probably treat me with affectionate solicitude— but I would not leave my unfortunate Henri—Henri, the being for whom I have sacrificed so much, endured so much, and shall yet have to pass through so much—Oh! no, not for all the world!”—and she wept bitterly—so bitterly indeed, that the tears trickled down my cheeks as well. Another pause ensued, which was at length broken by the afflicted lady, as before. Suddenly starting from a reverie of woe, she cried in so wild a tone that I was at first alarmed for the state of her intellects, *‘ Sir—do you know how acutely felt are the tortures of suspense ?”’ ‘‘ Not, perhaps, to the same extent as yourself, Madam,” was my almost incoherent reply, so deeply was I affected. ‘“ But, if you have ever felt one hundredth part of those tortures which I now feel—I conjure you to relieve my anxiety! Letme know the dreadful truth at once :—what evil awaits my husband this night more especially than on any other? Howcame you to be acquainted with the desperate state of his circumstances ? and what can you reveal to-morrow morning, that I may not know at the present moment ?”’ ‘¢ Madam !” I exclaimed, ‘I take heaven and earth to witness that this must remain a mystery until to-morrow morning :—to-night I have a certain duty to perform—a duty imperatively binding—a duty, m fine, from which I cannot retreat. This night once past—and if your husband shall have followed my advice—he is safe! Let him pursue the contrary route—and he is lost!”’ I rose to depart—Emilie came towards me—took me by the hand and said, ‘‘ Thanks—a thousand thanks for your kindness. I was wrong in endeavouring to learn your secrets; but, oh! you know not to what extremities woman’s love will urge her. Save my Henri, Monsieur—save him—and | will pray for you—TI will worship you— I will love you as a friend—as a sister should love. Oh! save him— I implore you—and the blessing of an omnipotent and all-seeing J will ever follow you.—Adieu—and forget not to save my dear lost husband !”’ Having uttered these words in a scarcely audible tone, and ina CO stor q) SS (c@