The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 203: what you’re looking at

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

193 . po earthly could I form as to who Queen Isabella of Sein mizht be, until the morning after the masquerade. But when I received this missive mentioning the name of the enemy with whom I was to seck a quarrel, provoke to a duel, and thus |; extirpate from your path, my suspicions instan- taneously fixed themselves upon you. Suspicions? —no! It was a certainty—a conviction, beyond the possibility of doubt. And could you yourself havo been so insensate as to hope that I should not fathom your secret? Why, all London was ringing with the affair between William Deveril and yoar- eeclf. He had insulted you—at least such was your | i story—and at all events you had taken the trouble to make the round of your acquaintances and spread i the intelligence. There was a malignity in this conduct on your part which showed a determination to ruin William Deveril. What cause subsequently impelled you to wish his destruction, I know not: THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. fool that I was, to put faith in it! not have done eo? who could have believed that there was treachery so foul—eo damnable—in become the instrument of your designe—never should I have availed myself of the opportunity which an unlvoked-for accident furnished to pro- voke William Deveril to the duel of death. If you but that the Lady Saxondale to whom I am now | you speaking, was the Queen Isabella of Spain who gave me my mission at Harcourt House, I felt as- sured the moment I read the name of her enemy.” “T have listened to you im silence, if not with patience,” said her ladyship, “because I was de- sircus to ascertain the real nature of the delusion under which you are labouring. I now begin to fatiiom it. You have mistaken same one else for ge.” “ No—it is not so!” answered Lord Harold ve- honrently. “I repeat that not until I read the mame of your enemy, did I suspect who Queen Isabella of Spain could possibly be. But the in- etant that name met my eyes, I knew that it was Lady Saxondgle. Yes—not merely because you had notoriously some strong cause of dislike against Deveril, but also because she who personated the Spanish Queen was of your stature—of your form -—with the same dark eyes flashing from behind the mask—yes, and with the same accents of the voice, despite the consummate art with which that voice was disruised! Lady Saxondale, if it wero the last words that I had to speak in this life, it would be to proclaim to your face that you were the woman who urged me to this deed of assassination !”” “Did I not firmly entertain the belief that your weason is impared, I should not tolerate euch con- duct. Even as it is, I know not whether I am justi- Ged in permitting you to remain another instant in my presence :”—and as Lady Saxondale thus spoke, it was with a look eo well corresponding with her words that for an instant Lord Harold Staunton felt himself stargered. But only for an instant! The doubt vanished as quickly as it came, giving place to a conviction stronger than ever; and he said with a fiercer fook and in a hoarser voice than before, “ Lady @axondale, I have become a murderer for your sako! The death of that young man sits heavy upon my heart: my conscience is a nest of scor- pions. Oh! what I have done and what I now suffer, demand an immense reward! That reward you promised me: that reward you shall] give! It may be that your love-tale—which I was foolish enough to believe at the time, and have believed since until I stood in your ere now,—it may be, I say, that this tale of l.ve was but the ecinage of your brain-—en artful delusion adopted ta ordcr to model me to your purposes. Infatuated td kindly with him, it is only from compassion for his misfortune.” “Compassion? I scorn the word—I disdain to convict’s flesh. What consolation, then, is there only blandishments left for me! logue do you enter: it is you who must head it—- thereby fulfilling the promise that you gave!” “Poor young man!” said Lady Saxondele, shaking her head: “what will becume of you? As one whom I have known for a long time—as my son’s boeom friend—as the brother of his fu- ture wife—and as the nephew of the esteemed and see come deguee of epupsthy fx nan ‘Beaker tain some degree of sympathy for you appear to feel 00 deeply the calamity of this morning——" “Oh, talk to me not thus!” ejaculated Harold, with rage upon his countenance. “If I am not mad already, you willdrive me so. By heaven, you are grandly beautiful! I always considered you as eminently handsome; and since yesterday morn- ing, when I first knew that you were the lady of the masquerade, I havo feasted my imagination upon your charms. Yet never did they seem so magnificent as at this moment! Even in this very conduct which you are pursuing towards me— treacherous, ungrateful, and abominable as it is— there is something 90 tantalising that I could scarcely wish it to be utherwise. It is the acrid ob GOHMGIOO (CO