The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 61: what you’re looking at

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

42 REYNOLDS’ WORKS idea of dwelling in the same neighbourhood with one whose very name must ever remind him of his outraged friendship, his wrecked happiness, his dishonoured and perished wife? ”’ ‘““ Yes,”’ responded Clarine, ‘‘ doubtless that was the reason. But if it were so, it was left to my conjecture, for Marguerite specified it not last night as the motive for my father’s conduct in leaving his home.”’ ‘And was it with Monsieur Volney’s consent,’’ inquired Lady Octavian, “ that Marguerite told you all these things last night? ”’ ‘“Oh, no, no!’’ murmured Clarine, weeping bitterly, and half-stifled with her convulsing sobs. ‘‘ My father knows not that a syllable of all this has reached my ears. And it was but yesterday, Zoe, when I sought him in his own study for the payment of the piano, that he assured me I should never understand the mysteries which enveloped him. Alas! Iam very, very unhappy — oh, far more unhappy than you can possibly conceive! How can I hide from my father’s knowl- edge my acquaintance with all these things? ‘The ordeal I just now passed through at the breakfast-table was terrible. I scarcely dared look my father in the face. Were he not so completely absorbed in the contemplation of his own sor- rows, were he not ever looking inwardly, as it were, and seeing nought outwardly, he could not fail to perceive that there is now something fearful hanging over my soul.” ‘““ My dear Clarine,”’ said Zoe, “ you must exert all your fortitude to retain your self-possession. It would add in- finitely to your father’s afflictions if he were to learn that Marguerite has betrayed his confidence, — which she evi- dently has done. Surely, surely there must have been some strong motive for her to tell you all this? ”’ Clarine said nothing, but again she buried her countenance in her kerchief, and for several minutes appeared to be the prey of emotions which Lady Octavian Meredith considered as too profoundly sacred to be intruded upon by further questioning. CORNICIOOKS (E(0)