The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 94: what you’re looking at

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

BERTRAM AND ELIZA 7d ,] ‘“ Accuse me not, Bertram,” interrupted Eliza, with a look full of candid yet mournful ingenuousness. ‘‘ There is not a question you can put to me which I am not prepared to answer. And I will answer every one frankly and truth- fully. Oh, if this were not my purpose, I might shield my- self in dissimulations of all kinds —I might affect offended pride and indignant innocence at being thus questioned. But as my soul is guileless, it needs not such artifices wherein to take refuge. Bertram,’’ continued the young lady, with -an expression of ineffable woe upon her countenance and anguish in her tones, “ you know not all the arts that were adopted to enmesh’ me in this web which is inextricable. God forgive me that I should thus have to allude to my own father, but it isso. As I have a soul to be saved, I knew not that my husband was your uncle until the knowledge came too late. Never had I heard that the Marquisate of Vivian- dale had been changed into the Dukedom of Marchmont — ”’ ‘““ One word, Eliza,’”’ ejaculated Bertram, who during the first portion of her speech had become all confidence and trustfulness in her sincerity, but in whose heart the reptile of suspicion suddenly lifted up its head again; “‘ is it possible that during the months of courtship my uncle never once alluded to myself? ”’ ‘““ Never once,’ responded Eliza, emphatically. ‘* He never spoke of his relations, much less named them. And my father was careful that the name of Vivian should never be mentioned in my hearing, in connection with the Duke of Marchmont. Are you not aware that the nuptials were private? ” ‘“* Ah, private, I understand,”’ ejaculated Bertram bitterly; “the better to exclude the members of the family. But as you have mentioned the nuptials, Eliza,’’ he went on to say, and now his eyes were riveted upon her with all the scruti- nizing keenness of fresh suspicion, fresh distrust, ‘‘ when the minister was performing the ceremony, did he not ask you if you would take John Ferdinand Henry Vivian, Duke of Marchmont, as your husband? And you said yes.”’ ‘‘ Bertram,’’ responded Eliza, steadily meeting his gaze with looks that were all ingenuous sadness and mournful innocence, “‘ that marriage ceremony was to me a dream at the time; it appears to me a dream now. I beheld every- thing through a mist, and if I look back upon it from the EONMICLIOOKS (EO)