The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 398: what you’re looking at

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

COVENT GARDEN 363 ‘he was wont to afford. The medical man whose services his purse had provided for this invalid had recommended certain little delicacies, cooling fruits, and so forth, and Redcliffe now continued his way toward Covent Garden Market, to make such purchases as under the circumstances he thought would be acceptable. Arrived in the arcade, his charitable intentions were speedily carried out, and on quitting the fruiterer’s shop, he strolled up to the terrace on the roof of the market, where flowers are exhibited. Redcliffe was passionately fond of contemplating floral rarities, — a taste which was natural with his refined intelligence, and which had been strengthened by his long residence in an Oriental clime. He was entering one of the conservatories, when he stepped back with a sudden sense of intrusion upon two. individuals who were standing there in deep and earnest conversation, — a conversation so absorbing that they did not notice his presence. One was a lady the very first glance at whose appearance was sufficient to impress the beholder with an idea of rank and distinction. She was dressed with that simple elegance and exquisite refinement of taste which characterized the well-bred woman. ‘The consciousness of high birth and the dignity of position blended sweetly and harmoniously with the perfect loveliness of her countenance and the flowing outlines of her symmetrical shape. Her features, perfect in their profile, had that classic sculptural finish which is so seldom seen; she was a creature of a mag- nificent beauty, — a beauty that fascinated more than it dazzled, and enthralled the soul more than it bewildered the imagination. Her age was about three and twenty; she was tall, with a shape of full developed contours, and yet faultlessly symmetrical in the tapering slenderness of the waist. Her hair was of the richest auburn, flowing in glossy lustrous tresses from beneath the elegant Parisian bonnet. Her eyes, of the clearest blue, were large and darkly fringed, the brows delicately pencilled and beautifully arched. One hand had the glove off, — a small white delicate hand it was too, and one of the tapering fingers wore the wedding- ring. Her companion, who held that beautiful hand tenderly pressed between both his own, was a young man of perfect masculine beauty. He might have been about her own age, (EOAMICELNOVO KS (E(O)