The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 292: what you’re looking at

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

THE MYSTERIES. 2765 Octavia,” said the young gentleman, in a tone of deep and touching kindness. “ However, I will not seek to penetrate into your feelings: perhaps the communication which I am about to make will induce you of your own accord to treat me with full confidence. Come—let us sit down, Octavia, and have five minutes’ serious conversation ta< » Thus speaking, he conducted her to the cofa: then taking a chair near her, he gazed upon her attentively for a few moments. “To what is all this to lead?” demanded Octa- via, experiencing a vague abd unknown terror, and little divining the turn which the conversation was 80 speedily to take: but she felt, whilst she cast down her blushing face beneath the steadfast yet kind looks of her youthfal relative, as if he were acquainted with her secret and was about to pro- claim to her ears his knowledge of her amour, her dishonour, and her affliction. “ You ask to what all this is to lead, Octavia,” said Arthur, in a tone of gentle remonstrance, “as if my visit were an intrusion—es if my presence were unwelcome. Did I indeed interpret your words and manner in a sense so unaccountable on your part and so little flattering to myself, a seal would at once be placed upon my lips in respect to the communication which I am here to make.” “Pardon—forgive me, Arthur,” exclaimed Miss Clarendon, extending her hand towards him: “I have been rude—unkind—ecocentrico——” “fay no more upon the subject, Octavia,” in- terrepted Arthur, pressing her fair hand for a mo- ment, and then gently dropping it. “And now listen to me attentively, my fair cousin.” Octavia gazed upon him with more of cariosity and leas of terror in her looks: for his words, tone, and manner were kind and reassuring in the extreme, ‘ “You are well aware, my dear cousin,” resumed Arthar, * thas an unfortunate estrangement ex- isted until lately between your branch of the family and mine. This breach—which, thank God! had aothing to do with either you or me—is now healed between our parents; and the two branches have as it were one family. To speak, however, in a worldly sense,—and I cannot very well avoid touching upon the point, delicate though it be,— your father would naturally be pleased to behold his branch of the family sharing im the honours and enjoying the fortune of the race with whieh he is connected. Moreover, I have reflected, my dear eousin, that an atonement is due from the branch te which I belong unto yours: and daty—inclina- | be, tion—propriety—and justice have prompted me to take the step which I am about to explain to you.” He paused for a few moments and fixed his cyes epon Ooctavia’s countenance to ascertain if she had begun to comprehend his measing : but so troubled did her brain still feel, after that long and terrible conversation with Paniine, that # was unable to exercise the keenness of perception and the readi- whieh it would have called into play ender other circumstances. Thus, bewil- dered by the observations whieh had just been addressed to her, the young lady returned the earnest looks of the Hon. Arthur Eaton with a vacent gaze of surprise, uncertainty, and suspense. “You do net understand me, Octavia,” he said, with a smile; “and [ see that I must be more ex- plicit. In a word, I have received from your fa- ther not only the assurance that your affections are disengaged—but likewise his permission to offer you my band.” “ Arthar—you—you—know not what you say— what you do!” murmured Miss Clarendon, sud- denly thrown completely off her guard by a com- munication which so vividly and painfully recalled to her memory the love which she cherished for the ingrate Prince: then, darting upon him a look of ineffable anguish, she covered her face with her hands, and, bursting into tears, gave free issue to the pent-up grief which had been swelling for the last few minutes in her bosom. “ My God! Octavia, what ails you ?—what is the matter?” inquired Arthur, amazed as well as pain- fully afflicted by this unaccountable and heart- rending behaviour of the young lady. “If I have said aught to offend you, Octavia, I implore your forgiveness. I sought to render you happy—and not bring tears from your eyes. But perhaps you love another—and your affection is a secret? Oh! eberish that love, then, Octavia—and think not for a single moment that I would seek to wean you away from the object of such an attachment.” “Spare me, Arthur—spare me f” murmured Miss Clarendon, her whole frame convulsing with an In- expressible grief. “Talk not to me of love——” “Only one word more, Ooctavin,” interrupted Arthur: “and fhat I must say—for my own sake— for yours also! Learn, then, that much as I es- teem you—deeply as I am interested in your wel- fare—I do not love you otherwise than as a rela- tive, or as a friend loves a very dear friend. It was not, then, through the heart’s tender affection that I demanded your hand—but purely from a sense of duty. My reasons for believing that there was a duty involved in this step I have already ex- plained to you; and youcan now comprehend my motives———”" “Oh! yes—TI perceive that you are the most gene- rous of men!” exclaimed Octavia, all the nobleness of her cousin’s intentions and views now bursting her mind as a flood of light streams suddenly into a dark cave illuminating all its recesses, “You would have become my husband in order to make me the sharer of your rank and fortune—so that when Lord Marchmont should be summoned to the tomb, my father might be consoled for the loss of a coronet by beholding it upon the brow of his daughter! Yes —yee—Arthur Eaton—I comprehend it all now; and again I thank you—-Oh! how cordially I thank you for this unparalleled generosity. But it may not Arthur,” she added, her voice suddenly dropping, and her look bending downward at the same ime whilst a deep crimeon glow suffused iteelf over her countenance, and her neck, even unto her bosom. “You love another, then?” said the young man; and, without waiting for a reply, he exclaimed, “ God grant that you may be happy, Octavia!” “ Happy!” she repeated, with a sudden start: then, instantly composing herself, she said fn a tone of deep and indescribable feeling, “I thank God, Arthur, that you do x0¢ love me: for had I an enemy deserving of my bitterest rancour, I would not wish that he should know what a hopeless attachneent ie.” “Ah!” ejaculated Eaton: “is it possible, my poot cousin, that your heart cherishes such a blighting love as this ?”’ “What have I said? what have I told you! ex- enn ee nena COMGLOO S COMM