The Mysteries of London, Vol. IV — page 270: what you’re looking at

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

i ER VE THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON, Pd s SS ~ = NX. te SS g TP, ~~ ~~ ; ~—— PO - oo aD p>. i ing toa ? “ — oy Z, gars KS Fa eee EN Ja. woe tells her that Trevelyan would not omploy another female emissary. Then it strikes her that she ought to rejoice that no farther progress should be made in the young nobleman’s suit during ber father’s absence; and she feels that she has done wrong even to remain standing in that spot under the influence of a con- trary expectation and of a tender though dimly significant hope. With a sigh, the beauteous creature is about to turn away and re-enter the cottage, when,—oh ! wonder and amazement !—with renewed suspenso and roviving hope, she hears herself called by her name—called, too, in the tenderest, most melting tones of 2 woman’s voice. “Agnes — dearest Agnes! Stay —oh! stay—if only for a few moments! Stay—I implore you— beloved girl: you know not who it is that thus addresses you !” Theso words were uttered in a voice of warm and passionate affection—so that a deep and absorbing interest was at once created in the bosom of Agnes towards that lady of whose handsome countenance No.86* —Mysrerntrs or Lonpon, o—_— - a LSS N NY she had now a full view, and the earnest, appoaling expression of whose features gave additional import to her enthusiastic exclamations, “Madam—tI will stay—I will not depart imme- diately,” faltered Agnes, forgetting her father’s in- junctions relative to the caution which she was to exercise in regard to strangers: “ but how do you know who I am ?—and who are you ¢” “Oh! that she should ask me who I am!” erled the lady, clasping her hands together in deep anguish, “ But how beautiful she is!” exclaimed the stranger, in an altered and rejoicing tone: “how faithful, too, is the portrait! Agnes—dearest Agnes —I havo much to say to you—much to impart that you will be delighted to learn: but must we con- tinue to discourse thus, with this barrier hetween us? Can you not come to me?—or will you permit me to come to you? I long—oh! how I long to embrace you, dear girl that you are; and though we are but a few feet apart—yet does this garden- boundary separate us most cruolly!” *‘ Madam—I know not how to answer you,” mur- mured Agnes, strange feelings of mingled pleasure, ne A nate rr Eo re US (C(O) DOO (SO)