The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 267: what you’re looking at

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

CHAPTER XIX THE MAIDEN’S BRIDGE It is a long time since we spoke of the beautiful Isabella Vincent, otherwise than by casual mention of her name. We must now say a few words concerning her proceedings since she inherited the vast domains and riches of the Lascelles family. The reader cannot have forgotten how eminently she deserved that epithet beautiful which we have just applied to her, or how all worthy she was to become the bride of the youthful wearer of the Marchmont coronet. With a countenance that had exceeding sweetness of expression as well as faultless regularity of features, with the deep blue eyes full of candour and innocence, and shaded by their thickly fringing lashes, with the brillant transparency of her complexion, and the softest tint of the rose upon her cheeks, and with the rich abundance of the glossy dark brown hair showering in myriad ringlets upon her shoulders, she was indeed a being whom it was bliss to contemplate. When first we introduced her upon the stage of our story, there was a certain soft pensiveness and holy melancholy, so to speak, upon Isabella’s countenance, but this expression had now well-nigh passed away, for nought had she to mar her happiness. In a worldly point of view hers was a brilliant position, for she had domains and wealth of her own, and she was about to be allied to one who possessed still larger domains and still greater wealth, and who could place a ducal coronet upon her brow. In the feelings of her own heart she was likewise blessed, for she was to espouse him whom she had so fondly and faithfully loved, and she had the satisfaction of beholding the once obscure Christian Ashton now elevated to one of the loftiest pedestals to 238 GOMmicsooks (EO)