The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

THE LEGEND | 13 yond Mademoiselle Volney’s, that he was poisoned by his uncle.”’ Zoe made no comment; she was certainly so far struck by the tale that she wished either she had not heard it, or else that she had not seen, or fancied she had seen, that which alarmed her on the previous evening. “The gardener says, my lady, that all who ever saw the spirit agree in the description of it. The young gentleman appears as he was when in life, tall and slender, perfectly upright, dressed as he was when discovered on the bed, with all his clothes on, but without boots or slippers, and his countenance Is ghastly pale. He does not seem to walk ex- actly, but to glide slowly along with noiseless feet. Or else he has been seen just about*to enter the room where he met his death, and then he turns that ghastly pale countenance of his slowly around upon whomsoever is passing along the passage at the time.”’ ‘‘ T hope that neither you nor Rachel,”’ said Zoe, ‘ will give way to these childish superstitions.”’ But even as she thus spoke, she shuddered involuntarily, for there was something in the present legend which corresponded singularly if not fearfully enough with the circumstance of the noiselessly gliding form which she had seen, or fancied that she had seen, on the preceding evening. When at the breakfast-table, Lady Octavian Meredith exerted herself to assume as much gaiety as possible, and to appear easy in her mind, for she would not willingly have laid herself open to be questioned on a point where her answer would have to be connected with a superstitious terror. Monsieur Volney hurried over his breakfast as usual, and then issued forth to take one of his long, mournful, solitary walks, leaving the two ladies together. It was a beautiful day, and they presently strolled forth; but Zoe’s health was too delicate to suffer her to ramble far, and when they reached the outskirts of a grove, they sat down to rest upon a verdant bank. Despite all her efforts to the con- trary, Zoe could not help being at intervals preoccupied and abstracted. Clarine perceived it, and, mistaking the cause, endeavoured to speak soothingly in the sense which she fancied to regard her friend’s mournful pensiveness. “Your thoughts constantly travel back to your native land, my dear Zoe,”’ said Clarine, ‘‘ and methinks that you CoOnnicloookKks (CO)