The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 180: what you’re looking at

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

A WOMAN’S LOVE 157 man, he sank down into his seat again, groaning heavily, and, oh, how mournfully, how lugubriously, how despair- ingly! His eye fell upon the note, which had dropped from his hand and lay upon the carpet. He snatched it up, and read it again. Yes, it was all as his horrified memory re- tained its contents. Again starting up from his seat, he applied the note to a wax taper, and when the flame seized it, he threw it into the grate. It then for a moment ap- peared as if he breathed more freely, and he said to himself, ‘“ Let me think on all these things.” In order to concentrate his ideas, he rested his elbows upon a table, and covering his countenance with his hands, pressed the fingers upon his eyelids to keep them closed, so that by shutting out external objects he might be the better able to turn all his attention inward. He felt that he was in the position of a general besieged in a town toward which the enemy were gradually advancing; the trenches were being pushed nearer and nearer, mines were being formed, batteries were being raised, and he could not anticipate when the final attack should be made. Nor could he altogether understand with what weapons the enemy were fighting, and therefore he was at a loss to devise the means for strengthen- ing his own position. The longer he reflected the more be- wildering grew his reflections; the longer he deliberated the more perplexing became his deliberation. ‘“‘Indora knows much, and if not everything, at least too much,” he thought within himself. “ But if so, why does she linger and tarry ere striking the final blow? Oris it that she only suspects, and is now engaged in accumulating proofs? Who is she, and what are my affairs to her? Can it be possible that he really lives? Yes, yes! Fool that I am to endeavour to blind myself to the tremendous truth! Have I not seen him? But does he know Indora? Is there aught in connection between them? Ah! if so he may be found at her house, he may visit her; she may be his wife, or his paramour? Who knows? What if I were to strike a tremendous blow and hand him over to the grasp of justice? No, no, caution must be used. That blow might rebound upon myself. And who is it that has been stricken by the bravo’s dagger instead of Indora? How could the mistake have occurred? Oh, all this is dreadfully bewildering! My soul is on fire, my heart burns; it is not blood which flows CORNICLOO© <S (CO)