Penny Blood Serial Fiction — page 397: what you’re looking at

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

J80 THE COURT OF LONDON Oh, not for another instant could the naturally generous- hearted Eleanor brook this moving spectacle; but, springing toward him, she tore his hands away from his countenance, she raised his head, and pressing her lips to his forehead, while the tears rained down from her long dark lashes upon his cheeks, she murmured, ‘“ Forgive me, Francis, forgive me! I am a wretch to have tortured you thus! ” ‘It was your kindness, your goodness which unmanned me, adorable woman!” he exclaimed, pressing her in his arms. ‘It was the mercy you showed toward me that awakened all the tenderest feelings of my soul! ”’ He remained seated, and his beautiful wife stood by his side, leaning upon him with one arm thrown around his neck, and one hand pressing his own to her lips, while her eyes, usually of such dazzling lustre, contemplated his handsome features with a melting softness and a mournful tenderness. ‘““ Never again ask me to forgive you, Eleanor,” said the nobleman; “‘ for I have so much for which to implore your pardon. But you can form no idea of the extent of that love which I bear for you, and which rendered me so diabolically selfish as to seal your misery by making you mine. Never, never shall I forget the first time that I beheld you. An enchantment was upon me, the very atmosphere which you breathed was intoxicating, the air through which you seemed to float in the mazy dance was fraught with ravishment. My senses were enthralled, my spirit was bathed in a fount of love. I went home, and then came the terrible reflection that you never could be mine, although the sweetest reminis- cences of my life would ever be associated with your image. Like Orpheus, I could cherish the memory and in imagination look upon the shade of her whom I loved; but the deep and impassable gulf appeared to be still between us. Again I saw you, and we were introduced to each other. Then did I comprehend all that celestial passion which poets love to paint; I felt all its mystic influence, thrilling me like an Elysian essence, and I sat like one enchanted by your side, gvazing in respectful admiration upon you. You spoke, and your voice fell like soft music on my ear; and when some one came to lead you off to the dance, it seemed to me as if a delicious melody which had enchained my senses were passing away. Again I went home, to ponder throughout the livelong night on your image. And then I was madman CONNIE KOOL KS (E(@)