The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

96 REYNOLDS’ WORKS poor mistress was occupied on that letter that she could not see you. Oh, ma’am, her Grace may have been weak and imprudent, but it is hard to believe her guilty.” Mrs. Bailey — being well acquainted with all Eliza’s earlier history, and knowing how deeply she had loved Bertram, besides being a woman whose notions of the better side of humanity had been warped, if not actually spoiled by the frivolities of fashionable life — really did believe in her own heart that Eliza was completely guilty, and she could not help shaking her head ominously in response to the maid’s expressed doubt on the subject. The countenance of the maid herself therefore fell suddenly as she beheld that look, and her own previously wavering opinion settled into a con- viction unfavourable to the unfortunate Eliza. At this moment Lord Clandon came forth from the apart- ment, where he had been closeted with the duke, and his looks showed that his mission had proved unsuccessful. ‘“‘ His Grace read the letter,’”’ he said, in a low, deep voice. ‘* After much trouble I persuaded him that this was at least an act of justice which he owed toward the duchess. But his Opinion is not to be moved, nor his resolve shaken. His com- mands are that with the least possible delay the duchess is to leave the house.”’ | The maid, with a sorrowful countenance, ascended the stairs, followed by Mrs. Bailey, and they entered the bou- doir, where Eliza was pacing to and fro in a state of mind which may be more readily imagined than described. An- other of her maids had remained with her, and this one was standing aside, following with mournful looks the form of her mistress as she thus paced to and fro. Eliza did indeed seem as if she had received a most fearful shock: her counte- nance was pale as death, her eyes were haggard, her look was as careworn as if she had passed through a dozen years of unceasing, ineffable sorrow. The instant the door opened, her eyes, glistening feverishly with uneasiness and sus- pense, were flung upon those who entered, and Mrs. Bailey hastening forward, said, ‘‘O Eliza, how could you —” “Madam,” interrupted the duchess, all her trepidation settling down in a moment into the most dignified calmness, ‘“‘T see that you believe me guilty, but I am innocent.” ‘“‘ Well, my dear,” answered Mrs. Bailey, “‘ I most sincerely hope you are, but of course you know best.”’ EORMICLNOO KS (E(0)