The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 232: what you’re looking at

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

cn aan a THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. 221 Robert,” said the lady, in a tone of rebuke and re- b. “Oh, as for that —— But hush! here he comes !’” The door opened; and Sir Frederick made his appearance. Anastatia was about to hasten towards him, when she was suddenly struck by the extreme palenees of his countenance, and by his stern re- pelling demeanour. Lord Rushbrook failed not likewise to observe his brother-in-law’s aspect; and the miegiving which had been floating in his mind, expanded into an absolate terror. “Ie anything the matter, Sir Frederick ?”’ in- quired Lady Anastatie, not daring to advance to- warde that husband who, instead of giving her encouragement so to do, appeared by his very look to repel her. The merchant deliberately closed the door; and looking from his wife towards the Viscount—then back again at his wife—-he surveyed them both with @ gase wherein scorn, contempt, indignation, and aversion were all commingied. Bushbrook was ready to sink with terror —for he now felt assured that the secret of the cash-box had by some means transpired: while Anastatia was smitten with the idea that something fresh bad happened in respect to Shadbolt and Madame Angelique. “ Sic down, both of yoa,” said the merohant, at length breaking silence, and speaking in a voice of cold command. “I have certain observations to make—and it is possible they may extend to some length.” “ Bat my dear husband,” said Lady Anastatia, advancing « step or two with trembling hesitation, “your manner is so singular——” “Do you find it eo, madam P” he asked, flinging upon her a bitter look. -“‘I¢ is not likely to im- prove as I proceed with the observations I have to meke. But sit down, I say—and listen to me.” Anastatia sank upon a chair; and the tears be- gan to trickle down her cheeks. Lord Rushbrook, overwhelmed with terror and confusion, drew forth his kerchief and fidgeted nervously with it: bat his eountenance the while was of corpse-like ghast- liness. “The reflection of your guilty consciences is visible in your looks,” proceeded Sir Frederick Latham, slowly turning his eyes from one to the other. Anastatia gave a sudden start—echoed the word “ Guilty !’"—and then sinking beck in her seat, ap- peared as if about to faint: for all vital colouring quitted her cheeks. But still she did not com- pletely lose her consciousness, though a seal had suddenly been placed upon her lips by the feelings which were overpoweriug ber. “Y5u will admit,” continued Sir Frederick in a tone of withering sarcasm, “that it is a splendid family into which I have married, and that I ought to be supremely proud of so brilliant an aristocratic connexion! No—inetead ‘of being proud of. it, I have learnt to loathe and hate it, and to curse the day on which I was guilty of such besotted folly. But I will tell you whore my pride does exist! It is in a regard for the opinion of the world; for I would not have that world know how egregiously, how miserably I have been duped! Therefore mast the step I am about to take be in a measure glossed over. An excuse—a plea—a reason in such cases need never be wanting. Your temper and mine do not suit each other, Lady Anastatia,” con- tinued Sir Frederick, with a sort of sardonic mockery that was little consistent with his usual demeanour and accents; “and therefore we have agreed to separate.” “Separate P” cried Anastatia with another start; and it was now with a sort of wild bewilderment that she gazed upon her husband. “'Yes—separate !”” rejoined Sir Frederick, who all in an instant had recovered his habitual cold- ness. “You know how you have deceived me—~ I might use far severer and harsher expressions— but it is not worth while—you cannot fail to com- prehend my meaning ——” “My God!” moaned the wretched Anastatia, clasping her hands in anguish. “I admit that [ have deceived you! I have been very culpable! ——=- But this chastisement is terrible! Oh, what- soever plea be put forward, the world will look upon me as disgraced! Suspicion and: scorn ever attach themselves to a woman who is separated from her husband. O, Sir Frederick ” But here her voice was joet in piteous sighs and sobs; and so convulsed became her bosom that it ecemed as if it must burst. “ As for you, my Jord,” continued the merchant, cold and implacable, as he averted his looks from his agonised wife and turned them upon her brother, “you will find a ready apology for never again seeking my presence. The brother of a woman who is separated from her husband, is sup- posed to take the woman's part ; and you need not hesitate, Lord Rashbrook, to proclaim that you can never more think of speaking to me after my con- duct to your sister. I shall not contradict your statement. Let moe rather pase in the world as being hareh, arbitrary, and cruel, if you will: but let me not be regarded as thet which I really am -—a miserable, despicable, contemptible dupe |” “My Gud!” murmured Anastatia: and she’ wrung her hands with anguish. “Bo you see, my lord,” continued Sir Frederick Latham, “you have an easy game to piay; and £0 long as you pley it in the manner I am now dic- tating, your own secrete will be safe with me. But if through malice or by accident you ever let slip a syllable which shall unveil me as a dupe—if you ever breathe a word which may raise a suspicion as to how I have been deceived by this acoursed mar- riage of mine—that moment will I proclaim the whole truth to the worlc! Yes, I will proclaim it to the world—I will tell how you, Lord Rushbrook, played the part of a vile felon, a villanous robber in my house ” A half-etifled shriek and another galvanic start denoted the exquisitely excruciating torture which Anastatia was experiencing; and then her half wild, half diamayed looks wandered from the couu- tenance of her husband to that of her brother. “Hush, bush—for God’s sake, hush !” exclaimed the Viscount, starting up from his seat with a face that was livid through mingled terror, con- fusion, and ‘shame, as he glanced in a frightened manner towards his sister, and entreatingly to his brother-in-law. “Lord Rashbrook,” said the implacable mer- chant, still outwardly cold, though inwardly expe- riencing a burning joy at being enabled to humbie the haughty pride of a scion of that aristocratic family into which he had married,—“I tell you COMME HOG cS) (CO