The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 166: what you’re looking at

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

THE LIBRARY 143 tortured, and harrowed was the mind of their host. They merely looked at each other and smiled, thinking that his Grace had, during his absence of an hour or so, dropped in at some still more convivial party where his libations had ex- ceeded the bounds of prudence. It was half an hour past midnight, when the Duke of Marchmont was crossing the landing to pass from the ball- room to the card-room, that a note was presented to him on a silver salver by one of his footmen. He at once perceived that the address was written in a beautiful female hand, but which nevertheless appeared to have been somewhat tremu- lous, as if with excitement. - From whom does it come? ”’ asked the duke, who, with « & timidity ever attendant upon a guilty conscience, sought to glean beforehand some assurance that it was not the har- binger of a fresh calamity. ‘“T do not know, my lord,’’ was the footman’s response. “It was brought by a middle-aged man, dressed in plain clothes, but having the appearance of an upper domestic, such as a steward or butler. He only desired that the note should be given to your Grace, and he immediately de- parted.” The mystery attending the delivery of the billet — or at least a mystery as it appeared to the duke’s guilty mind — filled him with a cold terror, and proceeding to a room pre- viously unoccupied, he opened the letter. The first glance at its signature seemed to sear his very eyeballs; a cry escaped his lips, he reeled, and would have fallen but that he staggered against a chair. Then he sat down, and oh, how ghastly was his countenance now, how that cold mortal dread had chased away fever’s hectic spots from his cheeks, and how fearfully did he groan in anguish! He passed his hand across his haggard eyes, he read the contents of the billet. It fell from his grasp, and he sank back in the chair, not in a swoon, but with a sense of appalling consternation. And all this while the dancing was going on in the gilded saloons, and numerous lackeys were arranging a sumptuous repast in the banqueting-room. Every window of the pala- tial mansion was glowing with light, and the roseate floods of luxury were streaming forth through the crimson draperies and open portals into the square. And belated passers-by or houseless wanderers stopped to gaze up at that lordly EGOMINGIOOKS (CO)