The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 138: what you’re looking at

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

THE EXPERIMENT 12i ‘““ Yes, those were indeed days of pleasing pain,” said Constance; and she hastily passed her kerchief across her countenance, for the retrospect had conjured up certain associations with regard to her mother, her brother, and her sister. 7 ‘““ Do not weep, my beloved wife,” said the marquis, draw- ing his chair closer to that in which she was seated; and taking her hand, he pressed it warmly, while he gazed with tender devotion upon the countenance over which the shade of sadness had come. ‘“‘ No happiness can be perfect, Con- stance, in this world. There are always some drawbacks, and we must accept with gratitude the amount of felicity which we do experience. Only conceive how infinitely superior is our condition to that of a wedded couple who en- joy not each other’s love, and know not therefore the charms of sweetest domesticity.” “Yes, I am not unmindful of all that,’’ answered Con- stance, thanking her husband with an affectionate look for the attempt which he thus made to console and cheer her. ‘““ Nevertheless, you must admit, Etienne, that it would indicate hardness of heart if I did not feel the calamities which have overtaken my family. My mother disgraced, her name become a byword in the society which she once adorned, convicted of having propagated a serious calumny in respect to Mr. Deveril; Edmund having made such a shocking match; Juliana I know not where, but she, alas! disgraced likewise — Oh, Etienne, promise me, promise me, my beloved husband, that if ever you obtain the slightest hint as to where my unhappy sister has secreted herself, you will tell me, that I may fly to her, that I may console her. For Iam sure that, whatever her faults may have been, you would not debar me from the performance of such a duty? ”’ 7 ‘“ No, dearest Constance, not for a moment would I,” exclaimed the marquis; “ and you will not even require my solemn promise that if accident should render me acquainted with the seclusion to which your unfortunate sister has fled, I would not lose a moment in revealing it to you.”’ ‘A word from your lips, dearest Etienne,’’ responded Constance, “‘ has ever the sanctity of the most solemn vow. Yes, I know that you would not for an instant hesitate to let me see my sister, if you by any chance obtained tidings CORNICE OOOKS (F©)