The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 308: what you’re looking at

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

A STRANGE SCENE 291 me take this exact path, and which now caused me to halt here close by this stately mansion? ”’ While he was thus musing to himself, the harmony had ceased, the soft sounds of the music and the equally delicious voices no longer sent forth their fluid notes to the starlit air, and Deveril was about to pursue his way, scarcely able to repress a sigh as he thought that if Florina were indeed there, some aristocratic coxcomb perchance was privileged to lead her through the mazes of the dance, while he who possessed her love was wandering around the exterior of that luxurious mansion. At the very moment he was turning away, the crimson drapery was drawn aside, and a lady appeared upon the balcony, as if to escape for a few moments from the stifling heat within and breathe the fresher and purer air of the night. But that lady was Florina! Yes, Florina, elegantly dressed, looking radiantly beautiful in her ballroom toilet, — Florina, the idol of the young artist’s worship. An ejaculation of joy and delight burst from Deveril’s lips. Florina started, and was about to retreat from the baleony, but Deveril breathed her name in a soft voice, yet just loud enough for her to hear. And she did hear it, and by the light which shone through the crimson draperies the enraptured Deveril could perceive that the young maiden’s countenance became suddenly animated with ineffable pleasure as she recognized him. But it was dan- gerous to attempt any communication under circumstances where notice might be attracted, and so the interchange of whatever the lovers might have to say was limited to signs. Florina waved her snowy handkerchief to the young artist, and he, responding in a similar manner to that mute but recognized signal of love, passed lingeringly away. He saw Florina push aside the draperies again and dis- appear behind them; then rejoicing that he had thus caught a glimpse of his adored one, though only for such a brief passing instant, he sped onward with a lighter heart to his own residence, which was at no very great distance. But as William Deveril entered the hall of a beautiful little villa which he thus occupied in the neighbourhood of the’ Regent’s Park, a charming creature of angelic beauty eame forth from the parlour to welcome him, and even to chide him affectionately for being so late. Who was this CONNIE DOOKS (C(O)