The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 179: what you’re looking at

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

CHAPTER XV A WOMAN'S LOVE THE reader has seen the effect which Indora’s letter pro- duced upon the wretched Marchmont. If the writing of it had conjured up troops of hideous memories to sweep through the brains of the queen and of Mr. Redcliffe, the reading of the document had assuredly done no less in reference to the duke. For nearly half an hour did he remain like one stupe- fied with horror and appalled with dismay, in the apartment to which he had retired; it appeared to him as if he were in the midst of a frightful waking dream. Suddenly he started up from his chair, and dashed his hand with frantic violence against his forehead, as if he sought to beat in his own skull or crush his own tortured, harrowed brain. Oh, the misery, the anguish, the crucifixion of feeling which this wretched man endured at that moment! Take all the horrors which have characterized the most frightful scenes ever enacted on the theatre of the world, the horrors of condemned cells, death-beds, or battle-fields, sum them all up, aggregate, com- pound them, extract their most refined essence, and it were nothing, nothing in comparison with the hideous tortures experienced by the Duke of Marchmont now. Oh, the deadly strife at Arbela, at Pharsalia, at Waterloo, or at Inkerman, —- even these were as nothing in comparison with the stupendous concurrence of horrors which now found a focus in the soul of the Duke of Marchmont! But he must endeavour to reflect upon his position, he must deliberate with himself. Reflection and deliberation, — were these possible with one in his agonized state of mind? We have said that he started up from his seat, he struck his hand with violence against his brow. He paced to and fro, he felt that he was staggering and reeling like a drunken 156 ECORNIClIOOKS (E(0) m