The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 113: what you’re looking at

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

y 102 and much indisposed, through having passed so troubled a night: there was little conversation— and no one asked the cause why the others were dull. Doubtless M. Volney fancied that the con- verseation which he had with his daughter in his study on the preceding evening, had affected her spirits: But Zoe attributed her friend’s mournfal- ness to her knowledge of all those mysteries which so intimately regarded her sire. Immediately after breakfast, M. Volney quitted the room; and the lidies were left to themselves. Zoe at once proposed that they should go forth to walk: for she fancied that the fresh air and the eheerful aspect of nature would have a healthful influence over herself, and would tend to improve the spirits of her friend Clarine. Mademoiselle Volney at once assented: and they went forth ether. “Wherefore, my dear friend,” asked Lady Octavian, “do you not endeavour to surmount this melancholy which has taken possession of youP Believe me, dear Clarine, your father can- not fail shortly to perceive——” “Zoe,” interrupted Mademoiselle Volney sud- denly, and speaking as if with a strange wild gust of feeling, “ you know——Oh, you know not how wretchedly unhappy I am!” “I know it, my sweet friend,” responded Lady Octavian in a deeply compassionating tone; “and I need not assure yott that you possess my warmest sympathy. But for your own sake, and that of your father ” ° *O Zoe!” interrupted Clarme with passionate vehemence, “you do not understand me! If you ohly knew all!” “Heavens! my dear friend,” said Lady Octa- vian; “is there anything that you have concealed from meP Yeos—yea—I perceive it !—there is something more than what { already know, and that is making you thus miserable! Clarine,” continued Lady Octavian very seriously, “if there be aught in which you require the counsel of a friend, I beseech you to make me your confi. dante |” “Yes—I will—I ought!” said Clarine, now sobbing violently, and for a few moments wringing her hands as if with frantic grief. “You know not half wy wretchedness! All that you do know is surely enough to account for a world of miséry ; bat my heart holds enough to fill the entiro uni- veree !”’ “Good heavens! what words are these to come from your lips, Clarine?” said Zoe. “ You frighten —you terrify me! I beseech you to relieve me from this cruel suspense: for believe me—Oh! believe me, Clarine, the friendship I entertain for you is as great as if we had known each other for years instead of weeks!” Mademoiselle Volney had all of a sudden grown calm: she bent a look of ineffable gratitude upon Lady Octavian Meredith: then she took her hand, and pressed it to her bosom. They walked on for some minutes in silence,—Clarine buried in pro- found reflection—Lady Octavian byrning to be- come acquainted with her beloved friend’s source of atguish, yet not daring to put another question ou the subject. They had walked in a direction which, when together, they had never happened to take before: it was on ond of those slopes which gradually ascend into the mountainous outskirts of 2 MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. the Pyrenees; and all of a sudden they came upon the brink of a deep yawning chasm. “Tt was here!” shrieked forth Clarine, as ab- ruptly catching her friend Zoe by the arm, she held her back. Lady Octavian Merédith was fat more startled with Clarine’s tone and manner, than even by the fact of finding herself on the verge of that abyss: becaude there was a low paling fencing it—and thereforé nothing too dangerous to prevent the instantaneous recovery of her presence of mind. “What do you niean, my dear friend?” she asked: “ what do Jou mean by saying that it was here 7’ Clarine spoke not a word—but led the way to- wards a little knot of trees higher up the slope, and at about a distance of two hundred yards from the raviné on the escarped side of which they had so suddenly halted. Beneath the shade of those trees the ladies sate down; and Clarine, lookin towards the chasm, heaved a profound sigh an murmured, “It was there ! . Zoo aaid nothing, but looked anxiously in Made- moiselle Volney’s face, at the same time pressing her hand to assure her in advance of whatsoever sympathy might properly be yielded to the tale of affliction she was about to tell. For that it was a tale of woe. which was presently to issue from Mademoiselle Volney’s lips, Zoe could not possibly doubt. “Tisten to me, my dear friend,” said Clarine; “and I will tell you everything—yes, I will tell you everything! I will relieve this surcharged heart of mine. Although my life was so lonely here, yet was it happy enough for several years — because mine was then a disposition which could readily adapt itself to all circumstances; and moreover it was sufficient for me that my father thodht fit to settle our abiding-place in thi neighbourhood. My music, my books, and my embroidery or other needlewook, served to wile away much of my time. It was very rately in- deed that my father invited me to walk out with. him ; and when I took exercise by myself, I was frequently in the habit of bringing with me a book, which I would either read while walking along, or else I would seat myself in some shade like this to study ite pages at my leisure. One day—a few months ago—my father said to me that he feared I must experience the monotonous loneliness of the life I was leading; and he volun- teered a promise to procure me some eligible female companionship. I was rejoiced at his kind- ness—but assared him that I was perfectly content to live in the way that best suited his own tastes and habite. He nevertheless reiterated his intene tion to adopt the means of affording me some little change or recreation. After this interview I re- flected much on what my father had said; and I was pleased at the idea. I remember that the very day following——Oh! how could I over forget that day? Is not its date indelibly graven on my memory?” Here Mademoiselle Volney paused for a fow minutes,—during which she reflected profoundly ; and then she continued in the following strain :— “I¢ was on the day after that conversation, as I have just said, that I came forth to take my usual exercise. I brought a book with me; and I roamed in this direction. The book that I brought NOOK (G (CO