The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

THE DUCHESS OF MARCHMONT od strengthen herself in the continuance of her filial love, to fortify also the extenuation which she conjured up for what- soever duplicity or concealment there might have been in his recent conduct, she bethought herself of all the manifold sacrifices he had made for her in her girlhood. Yet amidst all these reflections would come the sickening, blighting, blasting one that she had been rendered by circumstances doubly perfidious, as it were, to the memory of the lost but. ever loved, that she had not merely become the wife of another, but that other a near relative of the cherished and deplored one. A vague sense of having committed even a crime, a dim, undefined idea of having been thrown into a position which by its associations and connections revolted against the natural purity of her thoughts, filled her soul with consternation and dismay. But it was done, her destiny was fixed, and she must bear her burden and resign herself to the lot in the best manner that she could. Above all, she must scrupulously continue to veil from her husband the sorrow which rested in the depths of her soul, — that hidden sorrow which she would carry with her to the grave. About six weeks passed away, and the portrait-gallery was not revisited. If ever the duke started a proposition of the kind, Eliza was ready with a suggestion for some other recreative pursuit. There was this part of the estate still to visit, or there was that part which she should like to see again. In the same way, too, when occasionally her husband seemed to be approaching the topic of his younger brother’s death and the causes which led to it, Eliza was equally ready with some observation to turn the discourse into quite another channel; and in order to do this effectually, she would assume a sudden liveliness, perfectly genuine in the estimation of the enraptured and uxorious duke, but in reality fraught with the nervousness of a feverish excitement often bordering on the hysterical. Thus the period of the honeymoon passed away, and one morning, at. breakfast-time, the Duke of Marchmont said, ““ My dearest Eliza, we may now think of deviating some- what from the routine which perhaps is becoming monoto- nous to you. We must have a little gaiety at Oaklands, and to tell you the truth, I had arranged what ought to have been a surprise for you, but I cannot keep the secret any longer.. Your father and Mrs. Bailey will be here in the ¢om (@) IDOOkKsS (E(O)