The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 297: what you’re looking at

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

266 REYNOLDS’ WORKS less a deep sadness in his tone, —a sadness infused from the fountains of his heart. ‘ Yes, sir,’ proceeded the woman, “I felt that I had a mission to accomplish, crazed though I were, — a mission to discover the fate of my beloved mistress; and at the very time when methought my footsteps were most wayward, Heaven itself was guiding them toward the spot where the mystery was to be solved.” ‘“ But, oh, how is this mystery solved? ”’ asked Redcliffe, in a voice where pathos and anguish and suspense were so commingled that they seemed to give to his accents a new tone, and at the same time the mournful workings of his countenance expressed such kindred feelings that they appeared to give it a new aspect. Jane started as if something had suddenly galvanized her, as 1f some long-slumbering memory of the past was now all in an instant awakened, and with a species of dismayed suspense, strangely blended with a wondering joy that dared not have faith in the source of its own existence, her eyes were fixed keenly and searchingly upon him. “Good heavens!’ she ejaculated, ‘is it possible? Oh, what wild ideas are these, — ideas of the long lost, yea, even of the dead — ”’ | ‘Hush, Jane, hush!’”’ said Mr. Redcliffe; ‘‘ for Heaven’s sake, hush! I see that you know me.” ‘Yes, as if by an inspiration,” exclaimed the woman, her eyes brightening vividly with the very feeling which she had just expressed. ‘“ But tell me, oh, tell me,’’ she instanta- neously ejaculated, as another reminiscence flashed forcibly to her mind, “‘ you did not — no, you did not —” “Hush, Jane! I know what you mean,” interrupted Redcliffe. ‘“‘ No, that heaven above which smiles upon us in its starlit beauty can attest —”’ ‘Enough, enough!’’ murmured Jane, ‘‘I believe you, oh, I believe you!” and sinking down at his feet, she em- braced his knees, sobbing with a variety of conflicting feel- ings, but amidst which a still wondering joy was the principal. “Rise, my poor woman,” said Mr. Redcliffe, so profoundly affected that the tears were streaming down his cheeks, “rise, I say, faithful, oh, too faithful Jane! — so faithful to the memory of your ‘beloved mistress that your reason has reeled and tottered, and been well-nigh wrecked utterly. ECORNICLIOOKS (E()