The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 316: what you’re looking at

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

THE FABRICATION 299 replied Constance, not perceiving the real drift of her sister’s question. “ And so it would have been if everything took place exactly as our mother has chosen to represent it,’’ observed Juliana. “What do you mean?”’ asked Constance, in astonish- ment. “I mean that there is something more in all this than her ladyship has chosen to tell us. Is it likely, is it natural, that a young man like Mr. Deveril would fall so desperately in love with a woman of our mother’s age? ”’ “Not so very old,” interrupted Constance, “ only just forty, and you must admit that mamma 1s superbly hand- some.”’ “Granted. But if she is forty, Mr. Deveril is not more than twenty,” rejoined Juliana, “ and it is not likely, I repeat, that he should fall head over ears in love with a woman double his age, for it could only be in the madness and in- toxication of such a love that he would have ventured to demand our mother’s hand in marriage. In plain terms, Constance, I do not believe the story, and we will find out something more about it ere long.”’ ‘“ But why should mamma tell so wicked a falsehood? ”’ asked the younger sister, reproachfully. “ Oh, why, why, why — you always ask why to every- thing,’ exclaimed Juliana, petulantly. ‘‘ Of course one may see things or suspect things, and yet not always know the reason why. How is it that our mother is so desperately frightened of that old wretch Mabel, whom I hate as cordially as possible? How is it, again, that our mother gave an audience in such a hurry to that old woman the other night that I told you about — ”’ At this moment a lady’s-maid entered to intimate that 1t was time to dress for dinner, and the colloquy between the two sisters was accordingly cut short. Little did Lady Saxondale sleep during the night that followed this day of her discomfiture and defeat in respect to William Deveril. She lay tossing upon her downy couch as if it were the hardest and most uncomfortable mattress that ever belonged to a pauper’s garret. Or we might even so farther and say that many a poor creature that night slept a sweeter sleep upon straw than the great patrician lady GoOmiGoaooks (S(O)