The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 83: what you’re looking at

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a THE MYSTERIES. 66 in honourable marriage—for you are the first woman that ever yet made upon my soul an impression which in its very symptoms is far different from a passing caprice or an evanescent passion. Say, then, ' my beloved Pauline,—say—will you consent to be- come the partner of my rank and fortune ?—will you change your own sweet name of Clarendon for that of Lady Florimel ?” “Who are you ?” inquired the maiden, bewildered and amazed. “Speak !—and deceive me not!” “I am Lord Florimel—but still Gabriel to you,” answered the young nobleman. At that moment a post-chaise drove up to the front of the house; and Pauline, hastily putting aside the window-curtain, looked forth into the road. “ Gracious heaven! ’tis my father !" she exclaimed, in accents of despair, as she turned once more to- wards Florimel: then, clasping her hands together in indescribable anguish, she murmured, “ Octavia is not at home—and I——” “ Courage !—reassure yourself!” hastily inter- rupted Florimel. “In the name of everything sacred, I implore you to be calm—and all shall be well !”? “ But how ?—what can we dof” demanded Pau- line, now suddenly struck with a sense of her com- plete dependence upon the young nobleman to save her honour from even the faintest suspicion on the part of her father. “ What can we do, I ask?” she repeated : for at that moment a loud double-knock at the door resounded through the house. “ Again I say, compose yourself,” exclaimed the nobleman, speaking collectedly though with the haste occasioned by the urgency of the circumstances. “ Listen to me attentively.” “[ do—lI do,” interrupted Pauline, trembling all over like a timid dove. “You have feo aims to accomplish,” continued Florimel ; “ the first is to screen yourself from sus- picion—the second to save your sister from suspicion likewise.” “ My God! what do you mean?” demanded the maiden, gazing in bewilderment upon her com- panion. ‘“ T mean that your father will be angry if he should learn that your sister passes the night away from the house,” returned Florimel, impressively. This is what you must do—make him believe that Octavia is here—and prevent him from entering the chamber. Now go——" At this instant the knocking was repeated; and Pauline, hastily enveloping herself ina cloak, hurried down stairs to open the door. CHAPTER XxX. A NIGHT AT THE VILLA. Mr. CLARENDON was about fifty-four years of age,— tall in person, and of aristocratic appearance. His countenance was severe and even haughty in expres- sion; and yet there was an indelible stamp of melan- choly upon the lofty brow. His face was thin—his features were sharp and angular—and his complexion was sallow. His eyes were small, dark, and steadfast in their look: they were not piercing—and yet, when their gaze fell fully upon the countenance of an in- dividual, they seemed capable of reading his very soul. His hair was of an iron grey deepening into see EEE blackness—or rather retaining its pristine hue at the whiskers, which were thin but dark: his lips were small and usually compressed, as if ha were accus- tomed to long intervals of profound thought ;—and care had traced its lines on either side of his mouth. Somewhat spare in person, his figure was never- theless well knit and genteel: and though it was slightly bowed, the cause was the same that had left the shade upon his forehead and had marked the wrinkles on his countenance. For his was one of those vigorous constitutions and iron frames which appear to defy the lapse of years, and which Time, as if resolved not to be defeated in its universal ravages, had therefore employed Sorrow to under- mine. We have already stated that he had done his duty as a good father towards his motlicrless daughters ; and he loved them tenderly. It was true that mis- fortunes had somewhat soured his temper, and ren- dered him easy to be irritated: but he seldom spoke unnecessarily a sharp word to his children ;—or if he did, he made amends by a deeper demonstration of affection afterwards. Naturally taciturn and re- served, he was accustomed to pass hours together in the seclusion of his own chamber; and thus the young ladies were left much to themselves and thrown upon their own resources for recreation. In a word, they were what may be termed “their own mistresses ;”” and even in their walks Mr. Clarendon seldom accompanied them. He entertained the fullest confidence in their propnety of conduct; and their very artlessness and inexperience were in his estimation the best proofs that his reliance upon their prudence had not been misplaced. Having recorded these few observations, we resume the thread of our narrative. Pauline had taken the candle with her; and Fiori- mel was accordingly left in the dark in the maiden’s bed-chamber. She descended the stairs with precipitate haste, and opened the front door. Iu another moment she was clasped in the arms of her father, who ex- claimed, “I have welcome news for you, dearest Pauline. But you did not expect me home so soon perhaps—nor yet at such an unseasonable hour?” - “Oh! I am rejoiced that you have returned in safety, dear father,” responded the affectionate daugh- ter, for an instant forgetting in the delight of this meeting the embarrassing circumstances in which she was placed with regard to Florimel on the one hand and her sister on the other. The postilion now brought Mr. Clarendon’s trunk into the house; and that gentleman, having paid for the hire of the vehicle in which he had travelled, entered the front parlour with his daughter. “You will take some refreshment, dear father ?’ she exclaimed, observing that he looked fatigued— although his countenance was happier in expression than she had ever before known it to be. “ Nothing, Pauline, thank you. I am only wearied in consequence of a tedious journey,” he continued : “ for the roads are execrable with the thaw that has set in—and hence the lateness of the hour at which I have arrived. But how is my dear Octavia 2” “ She is well—quite well, dear father,”. answered the young maiden, feeling that her countenance be- came scarlet and then suddenly pale as she spoke: for it appeared to her as if she were already uttering a falsehood—or at al! events deceiving her sire with an equivocation. COMING BOOOKS com