The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 259: what you’re looking at

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

THE SICK - BED 237 been able to keep any note of the lapse of time, — but I remember full well that I awoke, and looking around, be- held the nurse sleeping in her armchair. The tapers were alight on the mantel, and a solemn silence prevailed in the room, broken only by the regular breathing of the woman. I became wide awake, and was in as full possession of my intellects as [am at this moment. All of a sudden it seemed to me that I heard the door open; but I did not think any- thing of it, as I fancied it might be still early in the night and that the maid was coming in to see me ere retiring for good. But you may fancy the mortal terror that fastened itself upon me when I saw the figure of a man steal in on tiptoe, stop to assure himself that the nurse was sleeping, and then creep in the same stealthy manner up to the foot of the bed. “T could not cry out; I was paralyzed with the stupor of consternation, for I had no difficulty in recognizing that monster in human shape who has caused me such indescrib- able misery. He saw my eyes fixed upon him, and as I gave not utterance to even the faintest sound, he doubtless com- prehended how completely terror had stupefied my senses. Oh, if I were to live a thousand years, I should not forget the diabolical expression of gratified revenge which gradually expanded over his features, making them seem ten thousand times more hideous than they naturally are. His eyes ap- peared to gleam like those of a snake with a vibrating light that sent the chill of death to my heart’s core. For upwards of a minute did he thus stand glaring upon me, and then, leaning far over from the foot of the bed, he whispered, with a sort of hissing sound, ‘Am I not revenged? You would have left me to perish in that cursed chair; but, thanks to your uncle’s amour with Lady Sackville, I escaped. And now it is you who perish. Yes, you are dying with shame, because you have been the Hangman’s mistress. Well, you will go to join your husband, whom you sent through my hands to prepare your way. Don’t think, however, that if you do live on, I shall leave you unmolested. No, in a night or two I shall come and see you again. I don’t think, for your own sake, you will tell those about you that you expect such a visitor. So I have nothing to fear on that score. But you may perhaps fancy to-morrow, when you awake again, that this was a dream. Here is something to prove that it was (C(O) nn) GDOOo <Si inn