The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 68: what you’re looking at

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

THE SOLEMN INJUNCTION 49 later in the great world you may meet an individual bearing the name of the Viscount Delorme.”’ Clarine gasped with anguish, but no audible sound came from her lips, — yet her face was of a death-like pallor. “It is this man,” continued Monsieur Volney, perfectly unconscious that Clarine had exhibited any fresh paroxysm of emotion, — “ it is this man whom you must avoid as if he were a mortal enemy, If I be living when you should thus happen to meet him, — supposing you ever do meet, — recollect that it would fill my cup with misery to overflowing if you were to disobey me, and if I be dead, say to yourself that even from the tomb itself the spirit voice of him who had cherished you proclaims the existence of an eternal gulf between yourself and that same Viscount Delorme.”’ Having thus spoken, Monsieur Volney remained for more than a minute with his looks averted and his hand shading his countenance. This gave Clarine leisure to compose her own agonized feelings somewhat, and it was once more with a preternatural fortitude, astonishing even herself, that she became armed. ‘And now good night, Clarine, — good Sikhs, my dear girl,’ said Monsieur Volney, at length rising from his seat and once more imprinting a kiss upon the young lady’s forehead. ‘‘ Good night, dearest father,’’ she murmured, and the next moment the door closed behind her. She sped up to her own chamber, she threw herself upon her knees, she buried her countenance in the bedding; she wept and sobbed convulsively. She called upon God to strengthen her; she gave vent to low but passionately uttered words of agony. It was sad, — it was sad indeed, — to think that one of her age, in the bloom of incipient womanhood, when the world ought to be stretching like a lovely garden full of flowers before her vision, — oh, it was sad that she should ex- perience such utter desolation of the heart. And yet it was so. Alas, poor Clarine! But we must now return to Lady Octavian Meredith. Little suspecting what was passing between Clarine and her father, Zoe had retired to her own chamber. She felt not the slightest inclination to retire to rest, and she dismissed her maid for the night without beginning to disapparel her- self. She sat down to reflect on all she had heard that day; she was mournful on her friend Clarine’s account, and CORNICLOOKS (CO)