The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 241: what you’re looking at

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re, | should go mad—or else I should end my days in suicide? I could not survive the loss of your love; it is the sir which I breathe—it seems to have ab- anrbed all other ties that bound me to existence exe I knew the happinées of thus loving and being be- leved. And I will tell you what a strange—what a dreadful dream I had the other night :—indeed, it was on the very night following the day on which I | peocared the portrait that I call yours. On retiring to my chamber, and after Pauline was asleep, I sate image is #0 faithfully and accurately impressed upon | my mind, that I see you before me, even when we | are separated, as plainly as | behold you now. Well, | having studied that portrait until its lips appeared to smile at me and its eyes to look love to mine, I re- tired to rest. Sleep came upon me; and then me- thought that I was seated with you in « delicious ar- | bour. It wae Spring-time: the blossoms fed the air | with their fragrance—the heavens were of cloudless | biue and stainlesely sanny—and the birds carolled in | their verdant retreats. We eate gazing upon each , other in silence— our looks speaking more elo- 1 |B the dream wae ely have done, Oh! thus the dream was elysian: my soul was bathed in par the ineffable. But suddenly a gorgeous train of nobles and brilliantly-dressed :adies appeared m sight; and starting from your seal—tearing yourself from my arms—you hurried towards the procession, as if to command that it should pess on withont re- | cxpiing 70 Bat a name was spaken by some voice—and that name was the Prince of Walea. The =u came over me—and | fainted. When I returned to consciousness, I fancied that utter darkness had closed in around ma Rising from the cold ground to which I had fallen, I groped my way amidst densely interwoven shrubs and | thickly growing trees, the dew from the foliage moistening all my garments and damping my hair ewbich I believed tc be streaming wildly and dis- | hevelled over my shoulders. Suddenly I saw a light : in the distance: I advanced towards it ;—every in- | stant it grew stronger and stronger—until a glorious nurries us on in our dreams, and which indeed some- | tines prompts us in our actions when we are awake, I entered the sacred edifice With trembling and an appalling presentiment of evil lying like a weight of lead upon my heart, I approached the altar, around which I beheld assambled that gorgeous train of nobles and ladies whom I had seen in the earlier portion of my vision. But one form stood out | % proud contrast from all the rest; and that form was thine, my George. But scarcely had my eyes thus settied upon you, when the solemn verce of the clergyman bestowed the nuptial blessing upon your- self and a lady whose hand you helu in your own, A rending shriek escaped my lips—and I aweke. Nor was that shriek a part of the dream—but a real ex- pression of indescribable anguish: for Pauline had been awakened by it~—and, serious:y alarined, she in- quired what was the matter. I soothed her appre- hensions on my account by telling her that | iad exper-enced 2 horrible dream, but the nature of which [ did not unfold to her. For the remainder of the pight my feverish brow pressed a sleepless pillow; and rever—never was the dawn of worming wore welooiae. Oh! this dream has haunted me ofteutines - y a - - =e & = + —— since—yes, a hundred times during the fow days : which Lave elapsed since it occurred.” “Bunt you put no faith in idle visions, my be- | loved ?” said the Prince, more profoundly troubled © than before at the strange narrative which had come from Octavia’s lips, and which he eould have inter. ‘ rupted more than once during the recital, had he not been enchained by the species of fearful and pro- , phetic interest wherewith it was invested. “Such a dream is easily accounted for, dearest,” be continned. “you had been gasing on a portrait in which you . traced a resemblance to me—it was the predominant . idea in your mind when sleep fell upon your eyes— and your imagination wreathed a host of wild and romantic fancies into the vivid and strongl y-coleured texture of a vision.” : “Oh! I am well aware that this is the true mode to account for it,” exclaimed Octavia: © but it was not the less painful at the time—and the frequent trains of melancholy thought which its remem - brance engenders, distress me occasionally more than I coald possibly make you understand.” “Of what nature are those thoughts, my be- ' loved ”” inquired the Prinoe, determined to probe the young lady’s mind to the very bottom, since the discourse had turned on this subject; and moreover, he felt that he was already standing om the v of an abyse. “ You will only chide me if I give you the expla. : nation you desire, dear George,” sold Octavia, cast- ting a timid look upon her lover. “ No—on the contrary, I wish you to be frank | and explicit, my angel,” returned the Prince: “ fur it is my duty and my desire to tranquillise all your misgivings,” he added insidiously. “ Misgivings! Oh! I have none when with you,” : cried the lovely creature, pressing her lips upon his cheek. “But you asked me for an explana- tion of those thoughts which my dream has left behind, and which steal upon me at times in spite of every effort which I make to throw them off. For, when alone, or if at all dispirited, I find my- self giving way to sad imaginings, akin to that vi- sion, and which canse me infinite torture. I re- flect that if you were indeed other than you have represented yourself—if the portrait should prove to be so perfect a resemblance of you, becanse you are its real original—and if I have surrendered up my heart, and what is more—my honour—to the heir-apparent to the throne of these realms,—Oh ! * then madness or suicide would be the result. For | heart ¢ innocence is a balm even to the b bat that anodyne would not be mine! On occa- sions, my thoughts are continced in another strain ; —and instead of fureseeing madness or suicide as - the crowning catastrophe, it appears to me as if all my love would turn to the bitterest hate, and thag - 1 would even throw myself at the feet of the King and demand justice against his son, my seducer { But, when Isucceed in arousing my mind from these most painful reveries, 1am so ashamed—so vexed—so angry at having given way to specula- tions so wild and tv suspicions so injurious, my be- loved George, to you, that,l am thrown into a per- fect fever of excitement ; and the « ood circulates like lightning in my veins—my eara tingle—my tongue grows parched—my temples throb—my ~ eye-balls burn! And now you will pardon me, | my George, for having thus frankly unbusomed my-elf to youu;—aud you will cease to be auto. | GEORG WOokXs —_? — mm =” a o-=> Ge GP _—- co