The Mysteries of the Court of London by Pauline Clarendon — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

78 THE COURT OF LONDON interval so full of heavenly bliss that it were worth while to give the ten best years of one’s existence to enjoy it again! Yes, adorable girl,” he continued, his tone becoming more fervent and his manner more impassioned, ‘‘ I loved you the first moment that I beheld you, and ever since you have not once been absent from my thoughts. I have cherished your image — I shall ever cherish it,’’ he exclaimed, seizing her hand and pressing it to his lips in rapture. ‘Mr. Harley —I implore you — oh, I conjure you — nay, I command you — release me,” faltered Octavia, a deeper blush suffusing her countenance, while her eyes appeared to swim in a liquid langour and her bosom palpi- tated with a variety of conflicting emotions, joy and fear preponderating. “Nay, do not seek to deprive me of this fair hand, Oc- tavia,’’ said Mr. Harley, throwing himself on his knees before her, and gluing his lips to the hand which he still retained in his own, and which the bewildered girl exerted herself but feebly to withdraw. “ Do not dash away the cup of happi- ness and hope which you have raised to my lips. I love you, Octavia,— I adore you, — for you are all that is beautiful, and good, and excellent to be beloved. And, believe me, sweet girl, when I take Heaven to witness that never until now have I known what true love is. Never until I saw you did I experience the exquisite bliss that attends on that passion. Look upon me, Octavia — do not avert your eyes,” he continued, with all the winning eloquence of his seductive tongue. “ Turn upon me those glances that flash like light- ning through my veins, let me contemplate my own soul speaking in your eloquent orbs, suffer me to read the de- lightful language of hope in the glorious beauty of your looks.”’ Bewildered and rejoicing, with indefinable feelings of fear mingling with a thrilling exultation, — partly succumbing to an influence which she could not control, and partly yielding to the impulse of her inclinations, — Octavia bent down her head until her long, glossy auburn tresses showered over the shoulders of Harley, as he knelt at her feet, and her polished, warm forehead came in contact with his fine and open, but flushed and heated brow. Starting from his supphant posture, he threw his arms around the yielding maiden, pressed her to his bosom, mur- ECORNIE OOOKS (Elo) m