The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 218: what you’re looking at

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

THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. The gate of the villa was now reached; and Captain Stanley said, with a polite bow, “I will do myself the pleasure of calling to-morrow. But you have not honoured me by saying for whom I am to inquire ?” “This is the Lady Indora’s villa,” answered Christina; “and I am Miss Ashton.” “ Good evening, Miss Ashton,” rejoined Captain Stanley; and springing upon his horse, he rode away from the spot. Christina's feelings had been suddenly and power- fully wrung by the incident in respect to Lord Octavian Meredith. She had no unmaidenly desire for the young nobleman to be convinced that she loved hitn: but on the other hand she was averse to the idea that he should suppose she had been favouring the suit of another. For she saw at once that supposing it to be really the case that she had thus favoured another suit, and if it were indeed a reality that ber heart or her hand was en- gaged elsewhere,—she ought at once to have men- tioned the circumstance on the preceding evening at Tudor House as the best means of siloncing the allusions to his own love which were made by Lord Cetiavian. She perceived that he, putting his own construction on the fact of her being with a band. some young gentleman, as Captain Stanley was, would naturally conclude that she had aoted uettishly, capriciously, and even immodestly in not having told him on the previous night that her heart was engaged toanother. The idea of all this was most repugnant to the pure notions and deli- eate feelings of our amiable heroine. On passing into the grounds attached to the villa, Christina felt so annoyed and distressed that she could not immediately enter the house. If she did, she would be courting questions on the part of the Queen—questions which might turn upon a topic that she did not like to approach. Therefore, to compose her thoughts and collect her self-possession, Christina rambled through the garden. It is but the strictest justice to our heroine to declare most positively and unreservedly that she had not the slightest anticipation of what was to follow: or else not for worlds would she have placed herself in a position to encounter it. Twice had she slowly made a tour of the garden— for the third time was she taking the round, with the intention of entering the villa when this last stroll was completed. She reached that extremity which joined the field—the point that was remotest from the house, and was most enveloped in the shade of the umbrageous trees—the spot, in a word, where Sagoonah’s interviews had been wont to take place with Madame Angelique —Christina had reached that spot, we say, when there was a sudden rustling amongst the evergreens, and Lord Octavian Meredith stood before her, _ All in a moment our heroine’s fullest self- possession came to her aid: all her dignity was summoned up; and what sho had last been think- ing of in connexion with the previous incident, was absorbed in that of wounded pride, bordering on resentment, that the young nobleman should thus seek her after his solemn promise at Tudor Lodge. He himself was ashy pale, but labouring under a deep concentrated inward excitement ; his white lips were compressed—his arms were folded across his breast-—he stood confronting her with the air of one who sought an explanation, 207 was determined to have it, and fancied that he had a perfect right to demand it, ‘““We meet, Christina,” he-said, “ for the last time :’—~and ehis voice sounded unnatural in its lowness and hollowness. “ Our meeting of last night, my lord,” responded Christina firmly, “should have no sequence. Re- member your pledge—and you have broken it!” “Listen to me—listen to me but for an in- stant!” ho said, with such concentrated vehemence that he seemed as if scarcely able to restrain tho outbreak of feelings tremendously agitated. “Cir- cumstances would not permit me to depart until tq-morrow ; and I could not resist the temptation of riding round into this neighbourhood—for acci- dent meade me aware of the place of your abode, which I never knew till this morning. I met Sir Frederick Latham, and he spoke of you. That was how I learnt your place of residence. I did not mean to seek an interview with you—I respeoted my pledge—I intended to observe it-——God knows,” he added bitterly ‘it is more than ever my intention to keep it sow, after what I havo seen |” “What you have seen, my lord?” exclaimed Christina, indignantly : and then, the next mo- ment, she was half suffocated by the feelings which surged up into her throat: but she held back the words to which they would have prompted her to give utterance, for she was suddenly smitten with the conviction that it would be more dangerous and unmaidenly to vindicate herself by explana- tions than to allow Lord Octavian to remain under the impression which he had received from his own construction of the recent incident on the road. “I tell you, Christina,” he exclaimed, vehe- mently, “that I did not mean to seek an inter- view with you! I considered our parting of last night to be final——-and heaven knows the pang it cost me to breathe that word farewell! But I could not resist the temptation of riding round here to catch a glimpse of your home—of the place where you dwell. Qh, if I had foreseen Bat it is better thus! it is better thus!” he pas- sionately ejaculated: and yet he mado a movemz2nt as if to stamp his foot with maddened rage. “ Yes, it is better thus, my lord,” said Christina, who in endeavouring to entreneh herself with a becoming feminine dignity, in reality became sur- rounded with a reserve that was not merely cold, but even had the air of haughty defiance. At least so Meredith thought; and the idea was natural in his own morbid state of feeling. He therefore said with 4 tone and look of bitterest re- proach, “You feel that you have dealt ungene- rous y with me—hoartlessly—coquettishly; and you take refuge within the circle of your own haughty pride. You may tell mo that I have no claim upon you—and you are right; for I am another's! You may tell me likewise that you are the mistress of your own actions, and that you owe no account of them to me: and again you will be right! But, Oh! Christina, had you for an instant been candid with me—had you suffered me to know when last we met——-I_ do not mean last night— bat the other day when I rescued you from the ns who were carrying you off——had you told me then that your heart was engaged to an- other——-becauseo it must have been so even then —for this attachment of your’s cannot be merely COMIC DOG (CO