The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

108 oa 2 command—I entreat you ! =a mo @ — eee THE MYSTERIRS OF THB COURT. And follow me hither. Clarine relative to the precise nature of that docu- —Lady Octavian,” he added, perceiving that Zoe | ment. was about to retire to her own chamber from “God be at least thanked for this!’ was the motives of delicacy, “have the goodness to accom- , ejaculation which suddenly burst from M. Volney’s pany us: iur as you have seen so much, yoa may be a witness of all the rest !” M. Volney led the way into the drawing-room, followed by the Viecount and Clarine: while Zoe, after a few instants’ hesitation, entered likewise. Clarine now threw herself in Lady Octavian’s arms, and wept convulsively upon her bosom. «“ M. Voluey,” said Alfred Delorme, hastening forwards and addressing Clarine’s father in a low but quick and earnest voice, “I beseech you to give utterance to the word—the one word of con- seent—which may spare your daughter so much misery! Say it, sir, I entreat you! The horrible suspicion you entertained ie wholly unfounded —— and I repeat I can prove it !” “Prove it P It is impossible!” said M. Volney, trembling all over with a deep concentrated excite- ment. “ But even if you could, there are reasons ——reasons ** and he gasped for breath. “ No, no, M. Volney,” exclaimed Alfred: * you will not be implacable towards the son for his father’s crimes! As for the proof, it is here—— I have it Pardon we for showing you a docu- ment only too well calculated to renew the afilic- tion and the bitterness of past miseries! But it is absolutely necessary you should so far control your feelings as to peruse this letter.” Thus speaking, the Viscount Delorme handed M. Volney a paper which he had hastily drawn forth from a pocket-book ; and then he turned towards Clarine who was now regaining some little com- mand over her own feelings—thanks to the kind and encouraging words that Zoe was murmuring in her ears. * Oh, Alfred! dearest Alfred !” whispered Clarine to her lover; “how could you possibly have been guilty of this impradence after the letter which I wrote you declaring that we must separate for ever ?” “ And think you that I could consent thus to separate P” responded the Viscount, in that low voice of tenderness which likewise being half- reproachful, was sufficient to convince Zoe of the depth and sincerity of the love that he entertained for her friend Clarine. “ Why did I again seek an interview with you? It was to assure you of the exietence of a proof that your father’s fearful suspicion is utterly unfounded—and that proof is now in the hands of M. Volney. Behold—he is reading it !” M. Volney had his back turned towards his daughter, the Viscount, and Zoe: he was bending down towards the chamber-light which he had placed upon the drawing-room table: he was hold- ing the open letter in his hand: but whatsoever feelings might be depicted upon his countenance, could not be discerned by those from whom that countenance wasthus averted. Zoe comprehended full well that the letter which the Viscount Delorme had placed in M. Volney’s hands, contained some proof that he might with certitude regard Clarihe as his own daughter and not the offepring of her mother’s illicit amour with the late Viscount. She comprehended likewise that a proper delicacy of feeling had prevented Alfred Delorme from being more explicit in his whispered assurances to lips: and hastening towards Ciarine, he folded her in his arme. The young lady—perfectly well comprehending that her father was convinced by the weight of the evidence, whatsoever it were, that the letter con- tained — wound her arms about his neck and sobbed and wept upon his breast. But she sobbed and wept for joy at the thought that the hideous suspicion which her sire had entertained in respect to herself, was cleared up, and that he could now indeed embrace her with the confidence that it was his own lawfully-begotten child whom he was thus folding in his arms. Some words murmuringly uttered came from Clarine’s lipe; and as they struck her father’s ear, they were to him a revela- tion. “What! Clarine,” he exclaimed ; “ you compre- hend the meaning of all thie? You know what icion ” “ Yes—I know it, dear father!” murmured his daughter ; “I know more than you fancy—and I know everything !” “Everything ?” ejaculated M. Volney with a sucden start, and also with a frightened look sweeping over his countenance. “No, no! it is impossible! Heaven forbid !”—and he shuddered visibly. “Forgive me, dearest father,” said Clarine; and once more she eank upon her knees at his feet. “'What—what is it that you know P” he de- manded: and there was something almost fierce in his accents, his looks, and his manner: * what is it that you know? But I am mad—it is impos- sible !”—-and pressing his hand, with a renewal of wild anguish, to his brow, he seemed as if he sought to steady his confused aad bewildered ideas. “I know, dearest father,” responded Clarine, frightened by the vehemence of his manner, “ the source ofall your distresses———And, Oh ! bitterly, bitterly have I wept on account of the fall of her whose memory I had tutored myself to love and revere !” “And who told you all this?’ demanded M. Volney abruptly. “It was the Viscount who told me part, and Marguerite who told me the reat. Oh! blame mo not, dearest father,” continued Clarine ontreat- ingly: “I feel that I have done wrung in some respecte———but if you had not left me s0 much to myself-———”’ “ Rise, child—rise!” said M. Volney, whose heart was evidently lacerated with a world of con- flicting and tumultuous emotions. “It is I who am to blame!—it is _I—and not you, my poor child |” Clarine rose from her suppliant posture: Alfred Delorme stepped forward, and said, “ M. Volney, will you not now epeak that one word of assent which will make us both happy? I have always heard you spoken of as a just,@ good, and an upright man——” “ Enough!” interrupted M. Volney with a re- newed fierceness of tone and look. “This scene can last no longer—at least not for the present ! COMMEOOO