The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 386: what you’re looking at

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

FURTHER UNRAVELMENT 309 marquis, ‘“‘I never can forget this kindness on your part and that of my friend Denison. I scarcely feel myself justi- fied in allowing selfish considerations to outweigh the sense of duty which we all owe to the law and to society at large. But yet there are the gravest motives — yes, the gravest — ”’ The marquis stopped short, and walked abruptly toward the window, where he remained for some minutes wrapped up in the deepest thought. He envisaged all that must occur if justice should be allowed to take its course. That Lady Saxondale was not merely the accomplice, but the in- stigatrix of the crime, was beyond the possibility of doubt. If, therefore, Lord Harold Staunton were arrested for the murder, her guilt must inevitably transpire. And then, what would be the feelings of William Deveril? Should he, after having made such noble sacrifices to save his mother from exposure, shame, and ruin, should he be now compelled to see her held up to a world’s execration for a crime even still more terrible than that from the consequences of which he had striven to shield her? Should he be forced to behold his mother plunged into a felon’s gaol, dragged before a public tribunal, and ultimately sent out of the world by the hand of the executioner? Oh, the marquis but too well knew that all this would break the generous heart of Florina’s husband, that Florina herself would sink down prematurely to the grave, and that thus the crimes of the guilty would redound with horrible effect upon the heads of the innocent. These were the reflections which passed through the mind of the Marquis of Eagledean. | But there were other considerations which he had likewise to take into account. During the fourteen or fifteen months which had now elapsed since William Deveril discovered that he was in reality the son of Lady Saxondale, he had occasion- ally called upon her in Park Lane. She had always received him alone; she had lavished upon him caresses which ap- peared the tenderest and the most affectionate, and he loved her notwithstanding all the past. He was ignorant that Lord Harold Staunton was her almost avowed paramour. Married as he was to Staunton’s sister, no one whom he met — not even the most casual acquaintances — would so far outrage delicacy as to make the slightest allusion to such a circum- stance. He therefore hoped and believed that his mother, Lady Saxondale, was now leading a quiet and respectable econnicbooks (S(O)