The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 116: what you’re looking at

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

SHE MYSTERIRE OF TNE COURT. would relieve my hoart! But no—I duro not—I care not! Leave me!” “ And if I leave you thus, are we ever to meet again P’” asked Deveril, profoundly afflicted. Fiorina hastily wiped away tho tears from her eyes, and bending her looks upon the young man, she was about to put forth all the energies of maidon firmness and tell him that it werd indeed better they should part to meet no more, when all that firinness 108 he said with a mingled carncstness and impassioned emntion, “If for my sake you consent to sacritwe ail thosu prospects which the world deems brilitant and daszling,—if for the love of me, the humbie and obscure artist, you renounce that position which society considers so desirable, you lay me under an immensity of obligation which only can be repaid by a love so fond, so tender, and so faithful, that never did poot dream of such a love nor novelist melted rapidly away as she gased upon the exquisite | depict it! But is this all that I can give in retarn beauty of Deveril’s countenance—a beauty which for the vastness of the sacrifice which you will make nover had seemed more fascinating to her view than l for meP Yee—I can offer you no other riches than at this moment when every feature cx>ressed love, | the wealth of a heart’s devotion—the opulence of adoration, sorrow, and despair! “Mr. Dev feelings that shall have no other aim nor endeavour ”* ehe said, “I canrot give utter- | than to ensure your happiness—the treasure of an ance to what I waz about to say; for it was an in- | enthusiastic adoration of which thine tmage alone junction that would have sealed my unhappiness.” “ And mine ais, if it were to have bidden me Jeave you,” he immediately rejoined, his countenance lehting up with the animation of hope and bliss. “Say, beautiful lady, has not everything which has ju-t taken place gone too far to be recalled 7—have not secrete been revealed which may never be con- signed back to oblivion P—and have not two hearts lifted the veil from théir innermost sanctuaries P Oh, do not tell me that what is done you could wish to be undone? No—recall not a single gesture, nor a single look. To do so were to prove far i.uure cruel than you are capable of proving: it would have been to lift me on angel-wings hizh above tho common things of earth, merely to plunge me deep down ints an abyss of darkness and despair !” William Deveril had spoken in that tone of mingled rapture, earnestness, hope, and suspense, which wns full of love's ineffable but varied r-usic, end can be listened to by no young maiden with impunity: so that even if Florina had been sar mors solemoly and sacredly pledged by vows of | neck of the beauteous damsel, and drew down the © her own to Edmund Saxondale than she was, she weuld have forgotten all such plight and troth at at instant, because her own feelings were stronger than herself. “No,” she said, murmuringly, as if it were the silvery flow of a crystal streamlet that was waftiny soft spirit-voices upon its surface, “ I wish to recall ucthing—I do not now repent of what has just taken place!” “Ob, then you love me ! you love me!” exclaimed Deveril, in a tone of swelling enthusiasm and gush- ing rapture; and again and again did ho press to bis lips the fair hand that was now completely abandoned to him. “Bat, ah! reflect, Lady Flo- moat” he said, a cloud suddenly settling upon his countenance: “all the brilliant prospects of your life may be at stake! If you condescend to bestow your hand upon me, you become the bride of the humble and obscure artist ——” “Bat I become the bride of him whom I can love,” observed Fiorina, in a low soft woico, full uf an ineffable sincerity. “ And you will renounce the coronct of Saxcn- dale for me?” asked Deveril, his cheeks glowing with rapture. “ Were it « diadem, I would renounce it for you !” sejoined the patrician maiden. “Oh! ia it possible that such bliss is a reality ? ean it be otherwise than a dream P” cried Deveril, cece more falling upun his knoes at the feet of Lady Fiorina: then as he gazed up into her countenance, shall evor reign the idol! Such, Florina, is all tias I can offer you—all that I can lay at your feet—in return for this love of your's.” ‘ And what more cun I ask?” said the maiden, in gentle accents and with tender looks, as she bent down towards her cneeling lover, eo that her eyes looked into his own, and her balmy breath fanned his brows that were throbbing with the excitement of ineffable feelings. ‘‘You offer me everything calculated to ensure my happiness ; and the prompt- ings of my hoart tell mo that if others seek to con- trol my fate by wedding me to splendid misery and coronetted unhappiness, it is a duty I owe unto myself to accept the destiny which a higher power— I mean that of heaven—appears to throw in my way !” “Oh! every word that you speak, worshippod and adored Florina, convinces me of the depth of your love and assures me of its enduring con- stancy! This, this is happinces indeed!”—and as Deveril spoke he threw his arm round the snowy countenance already so close to his own till their lipa met: and as he still knelt at Florina’s feet, he thus culled the first kiss of the love which was now s0 fully revealed. “Rise, rise,” said Florina, with murmuring tre- mulousness of tone; “rise, William—dearest Wil- liam !” He obeyed her—he rose from his kneeling pos- turo—he again seated himself by her side—but for some minutes his heart was too full to allow the utterance of another word. It was a sort of sub- dued ecstacy—a prolonged sensation of bliss, wherein his soul was steeped: his heart was bathing in a fount of elysian delight. The impression of that pure, chaste kiss was still upon his lips,—the voice which had just addressed him by his Christian name for the first time, was dwelling like a soft strain of delicious music in his ears,—and the image of her on whom he gasod in mute adoration, was reproduced in his heart, never to be effaced! ie felt that whatever should betide him in this world, through whatever storms of adversity or tornadoces ' of misfortune he might be hurried,—to whatevor distance circumstances might separate him from the presence of the idolised and adored one,—yet that atill the eweets of that kiss would linger on his lipe, the music of that voice would continue to float in his ears, and the image of that face of transeending beauty would remain indelibly impressed upun bis soul. On the other hand, while all these thoughts and ElOOO aif (CO