The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 359: what you’re looking at

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

328 THE COURT OF LONDON myself to despise death, come in what shape it may. Or rather,’’ she added, her voice sinking to the lowest audible whisper, while her violet eyes deepened into a sinister blackness, “‘ or rather, I am: always prepared to encounter death, and even to rush forward to meet it in case of emer- gency.” “What mean you, Fernanda?” asked Eugene, gazing upon his cousin in mingled astonishment and dismay. ‘“T mean,” she responded, in that low deep voice which was scarcely audible and seemed like the end of a harmony dying away, “I mean that I am always prepared for the last extremity, rather than endure exposure!’”’ and as she spoke she drew from her bosom a small phial, not so large as her own little finger, and which contained a few drops of a fluid colourless as water. ‘‘ Now do you understand me, Eugene? ” she said, in a louder tone and with an accent of triumph, as she replaced the phial in the corsage of her dress. ‘TIT do —I do,”’ returned Lord Montgomery. Then, after a few moments’ pause, he added, ‘* And should not I adopt a similiar precaution? Should not I also carry about with me the means of instantaneous death? ”’ ‘I question, Eugene, whether your crimes are so numerous as mine,’ said Lady Holderness, fixing upon him strange looks of sinister mystery; “ and if they are not, you do not incur so many and such constant chances of detention as I do.” “Good God! what would you have me understand? ” exclaimed Montgomery, startled by these words which seemed thrown out as the preface to some fearful revelation. ‘“ Have you committed any crimes beyond that which — you know what I mean — ”’ ‘‘The one that we perpetrated together, or rather caused to be perpetrated,’’ added Fernanda; ‘ and of which we shall doubtless hear mention made by the marchioness presently — But how long she is keeping us waiting! ”’ ‘“‘ Hush! she comes,’’ whispered Montgomery, in a hurried manner, as he heard footsteps approaching. The next instant the door was thrown open, and the Marchioness of Bellenden entered the drawing-room. She was clad in her usual mourning garb, and her countenance, though somewhat pale, wore that expression of sereneness GEomichbooks co