Agnes, or, Beauty and Pleasure — page 98: what you’re looking at

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

———— mm 90 mother’s death, my aunt Mrs. Timperley wished me to reside henceforth with her; you know also the motives for which I refused. But every letter which I from time to time received from my aunt assured me that I should find a home with her whenever I chose to accept it; and therefore I at length gave up the cottage—I left the neigh- bourhood of Cambridge —and I came to Lon- don.” “And perhaps you have done well, Cicely,” answered Hector, again relapsing into his accus- tomed tone of careless indifference and fashionable languor; “for the reputation of a young lady, living in the neighbourhood of a University— alone and unprotected— could scarcely fail to suffer. Not that I believe there was ever @ sus- picion entertained of anything that passed between you and me: for, thanks to the assistance of the old dame that has just met her death, everything was so well managed as to defy suspicion. Se that now being in London—and as I have under- stood that your uncle and aunt, though I have not the pleasure of knowing them, see a good deal of vating some handsome and wealthy young, fel- low rm “ Your words are an outrage!’ suddenly ejacu- lated Miss Nesle with vehemence, “Is it) pos- sible that, you can mean to insult me thug?” “Tnsult you, my dear girl?” responded Hard- ress, ‘I really had no such intention, You jusi now said something of making a boast of one’s amours: but I pledge you my honour that I have never breathed your name disrespectfully.”’ AGNES; OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE. to become perjured and forsworn—whether you can scatter to the winds all the vows which you invoked heaven itself to attest—and whether you dare treat with levity the awful oaths you pledged to me in the sight of God?” “Now look you, my dear Cicely,” answered Hector, “all this would read uncommonly well in a romance—it would be startiing and effectivem= but it will not do for a reasonable couple standing in the midst of the very unromantic region of Fitzroy Square.” “ By this admixture of levity aud insolence—of superciliousness and outrage,” said Miss:Neale, “I am to understand that you dare become a perjurer —that you have the courage to be forsworn! Beware, Hector Hardress!—there is,retribution to. be dealt.by. the hand of an offended heaven; and there is vengeance to be inflicted by that of a wronged and deceived woman! You have a sister, the beautiful Josephine—you have often spoken te me.of her—you have mentioned ber lovingly and affectionately when you were a different being from what, you now are,—when you were unspoilt by the frivolities, the duplicities, and 1 am afraid that I may even. say the villanies of that dissipated world in,which you are moving. But if any one were to deeeive your sister as you haye deceived me—if any one were to wrong and outrage fer as you have wronged and outraged me——-” “Come, Cicely,” interrupted Hector, “ this is a topie on which I do not choose to converse.” “And yet it is one on which you shall hear me!” replied. Miss Neale, with that firmness whick belonged to her character. “I see that I have You would | society—you will have an opportunity of “If I thought that you had, Heetor,” quickly | touched you upon a vulnerable point. rejoined Miss Neale, her eyes flashing with fierce- | avenge your sister’s disgrace—you would seek to ness, “I would be bitterly avenged—much as I | wipe away her dishonour in the blood of her be- have loved you—-and much,” she added, her voice | trayer! But if such be your feelings and such losing its. vehemence and sinking into a mournful | your sentiments, how can you entertain the hope lowness, “as I still love you.” of playing in your own person the part of a be- “ Well, [ am sure,” observed: Hector, “if there | trayer with impunity? Cicely Neale has a heart as was any harm in. my expressing the supposition that you would endeavour. to.settle yourself com- fortably by marriage <. “Dare not allude to it!” ejaculated Cicely. “Do you think that I would play so treacherous a part towards any honourable and confiding man who in the belief of my virtue should offer me his hand ? No—I would not do it! Or again, Hector,” continued Miss Neale, gazing fully upon him with her large blue eyes, “‘do you think that I have released you from your sacred pledges and solemn promises—or that I have resigned my love and my hope?” “Cicely,” answered Hector, “you are no silly romantic girl—your age, I remember, corresponds vretty closely with my own—and therefore you are tweaty-two. You are a young woman, and not a puling Miss fresh from the boarding-school. You must therefore know what value to attach to the oaths and protestations made by a young fellow when he was a student at the University. I see that we must understand each other * “Tt was precisely for this reason,’ interjected Cicely, “that I was anxious to obtain an inter- view with you! For your peace and for my own reputation, I have forborne from seeking you at your father’s mansion. But now at last we have met; and I will ask you, Hector Hardress, to tell me whether you seriously and deliberately intend | well as the Honourable Josephine Hardress. She _ has likewise a reputation as well asthat lady: and | her good name is as dear to her and to her friends | as that of the Honourable Josephine Hardress is to herself and to her own family! Therefore, once again I say #6 \ is Cicely,” interrupted the young patrician with | vehomence, “T will hear no more upon the sub- ject! ‘You are not so mad as to think that [ can espouse you. But after everything that has taken place between us, I am willing to repair to the extent of my power whatsoever wrong - *‘ Stop, Hector!” eried Cicely, her checks be- coming excessively pale, and her white teeth | gleaming between the full lips whence the rich ‘colour had fled, and which were quivering with the strength of her emotions: “ it would only ‘require this last insult to turn all my love into hatred and to render me implacably your foe! But let us not come to {hat pvint: drive me not to that extreme! Ob, I am well aware that when the diadem of purity has once fallen from the brow of a woman, her libertine betrayer rushes to the conclusion that with gold he may indemnify her—that with gold he can heal the wounds that his perfidy has dealt in her sensitive |and too confiding heart! And doubtless there ‘ 1 many women who will accept that indemnif cation, and who in the sordidness, the selfishness COMmmcooolkKxs ee (€(0) 3 —— - a a a ee