The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 359: what you’re looking at

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

328 REYNOLDS’ WORKS all that had occurred between herself and the young noble- man, and while Christian expressed his approval of the course she had adopted, he could not help saying to her, in a low, tender, compassionating voice, “I am afraid, my sweet sister, that your affections are indeed more or less centred in Lord Octavian? ”’ ‘“‘ Christian,’ replied the weeping, blushing girl, ‘‘ I have striven — Heaven alone can tell how I have striven — to banish that image from my mind, and I have not been able. I have prayed to God to succour and uphold me in my task, but my very prayers have seemed to impress that image all the more forcibly on the memory of your unhappy sister. I should deem myself very guilty, were it not that I know that we poor weak mortals have no power over volition, and all that we can do is to prevent such circum- stances as these from leading us into error.” ‘“‘ Error, my dearest sister,’’ exclaimed Christian; ‘‘ men- tion not that word in connection with your own pure and virtuous self.”’ Christina pressed her brother’s hand in token of gratitude for the confidence he thus reposed in her, and of which she knew herself to be so completely worthy, and then she said in a tremulous, hesitating voice, ‘‘ Must I to Mr. Red- cliffe make all these revelations? ”’ Christian did not immediately answer; he reflected pro- foundly. At length he said, ‘‘ No, my sweet sister; these are matters too sacred to be discussed save and except with a very near and dear relative. Mr. Redcliffe is my bene- factor, and nothing more. I love him; we must both love him, and if he should demand your fullest confidence in all and every respect, even to your most secret thoughts, then must you speak frankly. But not of your own accord, dear Christina, need you volunteer explanations; it would be with unnecessary spontaneousness inflicting pain upon yourself. Ah! I recollect, in reference to that outrage which made my blood boil, dearest Christina, I wrote to Mr. Redcliffe from Ramsgate, telling him what had hap- pened, immediately after the receipt of your letter describing the circumstances, for I have constantly been in the habit of thus communicating with him who has now proved so generous a benefactor. He assured me last night that he is not ignorant who the vile authoress of the outrage was, ECORNICLIOO KES (E()