The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 190: what you’re looking at

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

ANOTHER SCENE AT LEVESON HOUSE = 165 house against such rascals,” observed the marquis. Then, in a peevish tone to himself, he muttered something express- ive of his bitter annoyance at having been defeated, so signally defeated, in his designs upon Lady Sackville. Ernestina, exhausted in mind and body, and longing to be alone, bade her uncle good night and ascended once again to her own chamber. There she locked the door, flung herself with the listless abandonment of despair upon a seat, and gave way to her bitter reflections. But in the midst of this excruciating reverie she was suddenly startled by a sound like the rustling of drapery, and this was immedi- ately followed by the noise of something moving in the direction of the bed. The room was spacious, and the fireplace at which Ernestina was sitting was a dozen yards from the couch. Springing to her feet, she held her breath to listen and gazed with straining eyes toward the bed. Heavens! it was indeed no delusion. Something was moving, some one was there, and as the sickening truth struck upon her comprehension, the terrible fear was indeed confirmed by the appearance of a man thrusting himself forth from under the bed. Ah, horror! horror! it was the public executioner! | A shriek, but low, and almost stifled with the harrowing nature of the feelings that produced it, fell from Ernestina’s lips as she darted toward the bell-rope. But quick as light- ning the thought flashed to her mind that she was so utterly in the man’s power as to render exposure of him an inevitable step to the exposure of herself. She therefore stopped suddenly short, fixed upon him her wildly staring eyes, and with her quivering lips, that were as pale as ashes, she gave utterance to a few hoarse words which were well-nigh choked by the feelings that swelled up, as it were, into her very throat. “What means this intrusion here?’’ was the demand which her parched tongue and white lips thus framed. “A pretty question to a man who has done so much for you!” exclaimed Coffin, with a horrible leer. ‘“‘ One would really think that you great ladies of fashion hadn’t a bit of gratitude about you.” “In one word, what want you? ’’ demanded Ernestina, her heart becoming ice to its centre. ‘‘ Is it money, more money? Are you insatiable? ”’ CoOnnicloooks (C(O)