The Mysteries of the Court of London by Pauline Clarendon — page 245: what you’re looking at

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

242 THE COURT OF LONDON Nevertheless, who at that moment was so wretched as Caroline? All the circumstances of her past life and her present position were present to her memory with the vivid- ness of stationary lightning — 1f such a phenomenon could possibly have existence. She was an orphan, and she re- tained the fondest recollections of dear and loving parents, now no more. She had been left to the care of Mrs. Brace, whom she had looked upon as her only friend, and who, while affecting to perform a mother’s part, had thrown the unprotected girl in the way of the systematic seducer. Him she had loved — madly, fervently loved; and in his presence her looks had beamed with a radiance more divine and a brilliance more warm than the scorching rays of that land to which her mother had belonged and where she herself first saw the light. For Spanish blood flowed in her veins, and imparted a higher glow to her transparent brunette complexion than characterizes English beauty. But when she had surrendered the only earthly treasure which she ~ possessed — her virtue — to him who had won her young heart’s best and purest affections, she soon — oh, too soon — perceived that it was not love which she had read in his impassioned looks, but a gross sensuality that when appeased left him comparatively cold and distant. For some time did she close her eyes as well as she was able to this sicken- ing, desolating truth; and when she found herself in a way to become a mother, she was fond, and confiding, and san- guine enough to hope that he would fulfil all his promises, accomplish all his vows, and give a father’s honourable name to the child that was in due time to be ushered into the world. He did not spurn her, he did not even disdain her prayer, it is true; but he replied in a manner that left her only to persist in hoping on even against the destruction of hope itself. Then came the necessity of her retirement to the midwife’s abode; and here we now find her, alone in her chamber, in a solitude made more terrible by her own dis- tracting thoughts. O God! how often is it that woman is destined to pour out the divinest flood of her bosom’s affections and her soul’s sympathies into a heart which 1s hollow, vacant, and unfilled to the last! how often does woman — beautiful, adorable woman — perish miserably through the vileness of that man’s heart which is thus unworthy to receive that torrent ECORNIE DOO KS (Elo) m