The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 391: what you’re looking at

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

te in ae sr cs fl cso eee a was therefore ignorant of the circumstance of Ariadne’s restoration to life, which indeed had only taken place a couple of days previous to the one whereof we are now writing: and we should observe that the interest and the gold of the Marquis of Leveson had succeeded in keeping the circumstance out of the newspapers of the day. “You must have thought that something fatal had happened to me,” observed the Baronet, as he entered the boudoir: “that is te say, if you con- descended to devote a moment's thought to me at all ?” “My dear Douglas,” said Venetia, motioning him to take a seat upon the sofa by her side, “ you are aware that whatever my failings may be, a ridiculous affectation, is not one of them: and therefore I will eandidly eonfess that I have been both surprised and grieved to think that you have allowed nine or ten days to pass without coming near me.” “Ah! do not chide me, dear Venetia,” said the Baronet, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips. “You are aware that I have had much to annoy me-—much to ccsupy my attention——” “Your mansion was burnt down,” observed Venetia; “and that was certainly enough to cause you much vexation. But you are rich—and the joss can soon be repaired. Wherefore, then, seem so dull—so melancholy—so pensive? I¢ is not natural ——-Ah! I understand now,” she abruptly exclaimed, withdrawing her hand as sud- denly: “the death of that poor girl whom you picked up at Shooter's Hill, has affected you more than you choose to admit.” “You will be surprised, Venetia,” said the Baro- net, “to learn that the poor girl, of whom you speak, is not dead after all.” “ What mean you?” cried Venetia, gazing upon the Baronet with unfeigned wonder. “Did you not tell me that she was no more—that she had died through the brutality of the Marquis of Leveson——~" “Tis an amazing and extraordinary history altogether,” interrupted the Baronet. “In a word, Ariadne Varian was plunged into a profound trance, from which she was miraculously awakened the day before yesterday.” Sir Dongias Huntingdon then proceeded to re. cite those particulars connected with the damsel’s resuscitation, which are already known to the reader, and which were fraught with so wild, so somantic, and yet so deep an interest. “ And where is Miss Varian now” asked Vene- tia, profoundly amased at all that she had just heard “She was last evening removed,” anawered the Baronet, “under the care of my housekeeper Mra. Baines, to apartments which have been taken for the perpose in a secluded and quiet neighbour- hood. It was at first thought requisite to allow her to remain for a few days at Leveson House: but the indignity she had endured beneath that reof and the horrors to whieh that outrage had led, produced such an effect apon her mind that the physicians were compelled to consent to her removal thus speedily. Her brother is with her in her new abode ——” “ And donbtless Sir Douglas Huntingdon will be @ constant visitor there?” interrupted Venetia, with a slight movement indicative of annoyances, ° em ae aru eestnperernaserarespuunin—<esnpevessege e je . . e THER MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. and with a look that was the least thing piqued and pouting. “Ah! "tis cruel thus to suspect the fidelity of a heart devoted te your charms!” exclaimed the rte ene knees at Venetia’s feet. ut ill confess this strange ¢ of which Ariadne Varian is the heroin albes produced a singular — and indeed unpleasant effect upon my mind: it has unsettled me—it has threwn a damp as it were upon my spirite—it has rendered me restiess and uneasy ——” “ My dear Douglas,” observed Venetia, the coloer mounting to her cheeks, as she bent her beautesas head towards the Baronet, who knelt at her feet, — “you are in love with that girl—and you are now, with wonderfal ingenuousness, confessing to me all the minute symptoms of your passion !* “No, Venetia — no!” exclaimed Sir Douglas starting from his knees and resuming his place by her side upon the sofa. “Even if I may have fancied so for a moment, it was but adream. Is- deed, I experienced a boundless compassion—an illimitable sympathy—for that poor girl, who saved my life at the murderers’ hat, and whom circem- stances thus so singularly placed in my care.” “I tell you, Douglas,” interrupted Venetia, gently repulsing his hand as he attempted to take her’s,—"I tell you that you love Ariadne Varian ! And why should you not? If she be beaatifal, and amiable, and good, she is doubtless worthy of yeur affection——”" “What? the sister ef a poor clerk I” ejaculated the Baronet: “and he a man whom the law has branded and whom society will ever regard es an outcast—although the royal prerogative, infle- enced by your goodness, has pardoned him *” “Bat are not you the master of your ewn actions?” inquired Venetia, bending down her eyes: “and may you not, if you ehoose, marry this girl, obseure and humbie thoagh she be? As for her brother’s unhappy position—wherefore should she suffer for Ais errors 2?” “Oh! it is useless thus to argue the point, Venetia,” cried Sir Douglas Huntingdon, somewhat impatiently: “for I tell you that I lowe not Ariadne Varian ° “And I, who perhaps know the human heart better than you,” returned Venetia, “in spite ef all your werldly experience—I tell you, | say, that you do love her, and in the reeesses of your scal there is at this moment a voice which echoes the essertion I have just made! Now, my dear Douglas,” .she observed, looking suddealy ap with a kind and amiable expression, of countenance, “the feeling that must heneeforth subsist between you and me, is friendship—and nothing more !" “Ah! cruel Venetia,” exclaimed the Baronet: “have you not given me other hopes?—have you not filled my heart with the paradise of blissful expectations ?—and now will you render that heart a desert ?” “No—believe me, dear Douglas,” rejetned Venetia, with an amiable smile, “ your heart will vot be a desert—for it will be filled with the image of Ariadoe Varian !” Sir Douglas Huntingdon was about to make some reply, and urge the assuranes that the image of Venetia alone cecapied his heart, when Jessica again raade her appearance im the beudeir. “The Marquis of Levesen,” she said, “ requests ELOOO® COM Ss CO