The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 246: what you’re looking at

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

THE- INQUEST 229 without drawing down destruction on its own head as well as on that of the one denounced. But the real weakness of. Edmund’s nature now showed itself in yielding voluntarily to a state of more or less dependence. The fact was, Lady Saxondale, with a consummate art, was making herself necessary to him, — anticipating his wants and wishes, studying his comforts, and in a thousand ways suffering him to perceive that hers was, after all, a master spirit to which he had better trust as the means of helping him on through that career which, so to speak, had begun anew from the starting-post of a crime. They arrived in London,— arrived there dressed in deep mourning; but beyond the Petersfields, Marlow and Malton, and a few, a very few other individuals, whom selfish motives rendered the hangers-on of wealthy personages, they had no friends to come and condole with them on the loss sustained, — assuming such condolence to be acceptable under the circumstances. But for all this Lady Saxondale cared little, and she did her best to prevent Edmund from feeling an- noyed at their comparatively isolated position. Indeed, his experience had recently been of this sort; and as his chief sources of enjoyment were now centred in the champagne bottle and the pleasures of the dinner-table, he was not very difficult to be made contented. Immediately on their arrival in London, Lady Saxondale sent an intimation of the circumstance to the obscure lodg- ing which, under a feigned name, Lord Harold Staunton was occupying in the vicinage of the Regent’s Park, and he delayed not to hasten to the mansion in Park Lane. It was in the evening of the day after her ladyship’s return to _ town with Edmund, that Staunton thus called upon her, and they were at once closeted together to deliberate upon their affairs. “ You look charming, dearest Harriet,” said the young nobleman, “in this mourning garb. It becomes you won- deriully; it sets off your grandly handsome figure to the fullest advantage,”’ and he threw his arm around her waist as they sat together upon the sofa. ‘I love you, Harriet — yes, I love you more than ever. And you?” “I love you also, Harold,” she responded, not merely suffering his caresses, but returning them. For now that Lady Saxondale had no longer a reputa~ CONnNIEOOOkKS (C(O)