The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 317: what you’re looking at

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

a eee oe ee 306 The young lady walked alone in the garden, all her efforts to banish his Nothing had come to her knowledge to alter her suspicions ing him. She still had every reason to believe that he was living improperly with Angela Vivaldi, the opera-dancer; and the circum- stance was still regarded by her as a corroboration of Lady Saxondale’s story of his improper conduct. Her brother Harold, be it remembered, had never suspected her love for Deveril. At the time he en- evuatered the young artist issuing from the garden- gate of his aunt’s house in Cavendish Square, he knew not that there had been an interview between him and his sister—hbe fancied that Deveril was there merely for the purpose of seaking an opportu- nity of giving some explanations to Lady Mac- donald in reference to the tale in circulation with regard to himself and Saxondale. Therefore, Harold had no idea of Filorina’s love for Deveril ; end Florina herself had not chosen to make volun- tary confession thereof. Deeply, deeply had she been afflicted at the intelligence of the duel: most profound indeed was her sorrow, amounting almost to anguish, when it was first rumoured that Deveril had been killed———and killed too by her own bro- | s ther! The misery she then felt, and the difficulty she had at the time in veiling her feelings from those around her, had shown her most unmietak- ably the real state of her heart,—to the effect that notwithstanding all she believed injurious to Deveril, his image atill retained a too powerful hold upon her affctions. And that it was eo, had speedily received a farther corroboration in the sudden thrill of wild delight that she felt, blended for the mo- maent even with a still wilder hope, when the intel- ligence had reached her that after all Deveril was not dead but merely wounded: and day after day had she watehed the newspapers for a line indicative of his state. The duel having created a great sensa- tion, in consequence of the aristocratic rank of one of the principals, the publie journals had devoted more than ordi attention to it,—the state of Mr. Deveril’s health being daily chronicled until he was pronounced convalescent. By these means Florina had been duly infurmed in respect to the ‘details of Deveril’s progress towards recovery; and all the various phases of feeling through which she was thus led, convineed the lady that her happiness ‘was more profoundly wrapped up in this love of her’s than she could have supposed after the proofs she had received of Deveril’s presumed in- fidelity. We have thus, at a rapid glance, filled up the interval in respect to the young lady’s sentiments and feelings from the period of the duel until the time of which we are speaking; and now we behold her walking in the garden of Saxondale Castle, plunged into a profound and melancholy reverie. She saw that Mr. Hawkshaw was paying his court to Juliana; and she supposed that the latter joved him in return. This belief tended to sadden her even still more deeply: for she reflected that others were happy in their love, while she was miserable. With the utmost abhorrence did she fook forward to her alliance with Edmund Saxon- dale; and though she had not the courage to tell aa tila cd icc ae a a a a CUE WYSTERING OF TUE COURT. thus to doom her to become the wife uf sucu a | | being, she felt in her own heart that she never could consent to so tremendous a self-sacrifice. Oh! if Deveril had proved all she at one tame hoped and fancied !———-but no: that dream of bliss was gone —that vision of happiness appeared to have fied for over ! After wandering slowly and mournfully about the gardens for upwards of an hour, Florina seated her- self in an arbour at the extremity of the avenue where Lady Saxondale and Lord Harold had roamed together the evening before. The sun was aecend- ing towards its meridian—the heat out of the shade was stifling: but there, beneath that umbrageous canopy, a grateful freshness : The arbour was situated close by a line of low palings which bounded the garden; and beyond stretched the wide park with its groups of stately trees and the deer frisking on their carpet of verdure. A silence, broken only by the warblings of the birds, reigned around: but Fiorina’s soul imbibed not solace nor peace from this serenity. “ Alas!” she said, giving audible expression to her thoughts, “mine is an unhappy destiny; and dismal indeed 1s the prospect of my life. Oh! for an instant what radiant happiness appeared to be ining around me: I felt as if I were experiencing the glories of another sphere. It is hard—too hard to have seen the storm-clouds gather suddenly over the brightness of that heaven, and all my hopes wither away as flowers in a Ah, William Deveril! wherefore did I over love thee? wherefore was I doomed to experience thy treachery ?” “No, Florina—no! By heaven, I am incapable of treachery !"" Such were the words, in the manly melody of a well-known voice, that suddenly sounded upon her ears: and the next instant William Deveril was at her feet. For a moment Florina sat astounded: then ab- ruptly rising with a sudden recovery of all her maiden dignity, she was about to move away frum the spot, when Deveril cried in a tone of anguished excitement, “ Hear me, I beseech you—even if you condemn me afterwards! I am innocent—es there is an eternal God above us, I am innocent "” Florina stood rivetted to the There was such a depth of sincerity in the youth’s tone and looke—his fine black eyes shone, too, with an ex- pression of such frankness and candour, that she felt it would be indeed hard not to hear him. And then again, there was the hope—the suddenly ex- cited hope—that he might possibly be enabled to explain everything. Yes: and more than this too— there was the extiacrdinary beauty of his persan, rendered delicately interesting by the effects uf the duel; so that Florina had not the heart to tear herself away. She became pale and agitated, struggling to maintain a dignified reserve, yet ex- periencing a melting tenderness of the soul which increased every moment. “You will hear me!” said Deveril, msing from the one knee on which he had bent; “and upon whatsoever terms we may part, I shall at least take away your good opinion with me!” “s 1s this pussible?” asked Fiorina, in a tremulous voice, while her heart fluttered like an imprisoned her aunt that it was equivalent to a death-sentence bird. Saal aon = CO