The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 130: what you’re looking at

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

THE CATASTROPHE 107 The duke was astounded: a veil fell from his eyes, and in a moment he comprehended the real meaning of that strange conduct which Bertram and Eliza had observed toward each other during the first few days of the young gentleman’s visit to Oaklands. And he, the duke, had purposely thrown them together. He had studied to place them on a friendly footing. Ah, if he were dishonoured, he had indeed, though unconsciously, been the author of that dishonour. But what in his heart he had for the last quarter of an hour been wishing and yearning and craving might come to pass, he now more than half-believed. Was it not indeed possible, nay, more, was it not probable, that Eliza had been only weak, not guilty, and that Bertram’s vindication was true, when it declared that under the influence of irrepressible feelings — not being at the moment master of himself — he had caught her in his arms? The longer the duke thought of this, the more was he inclined to put faith in Bertram’s statement. The very circumstances attending the departure of his wife, as he had just heard them from Jane’s lips, seemed to be tinctured with a dignity far more compatible with con- scious innocence than with a sense of guilt. “O Eliza! Eliza!”’ groaned the unhappy duke, in the mingled anguish and reviving fondness of his heart; “if I have wronged you, — good heavens, if I have wronged you! And that I have, I fear, nay, Iam well-nigh convinced. You sought not to be on intimate terms with Bertram; you were cold and distant toward him. Your demeanour was, under all circumstances, that which it ought to have been. And I threw you together, I forced you into each other’s society, I left you alone together. Ah! it was natural you should speak of the past, — victims that you had both been made toahideous deception. Yes, Eliza, youareinnocent. Your weakness I forgive. You shall come to my arms again, and it is I who will on my knees sue at your feet for pardon.” The duke rushed forth from the boudoir in a state of mind bordering on frenzy. All his habitual dignity was forgotten, — all his wonted pride was as nought, under the influence of the strong feelings which now possessed him. He reached the landing whence the drawing-room opened, ‘and there he abruptly encountered Lord Clandon, who had just hurried back from the village after the interview with his brother. Com a LOOKS (E(O)