The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

8 THE COURT OF LONDON who had come to him. She was not only uppermost in his thoughts, but she of all women could alone have any reason to seek an interview with him at such an hour, in so urgent a manner, and relative to the business which he had in hand with Mr. Sampson. He did not, however, immediately descend; he had to wait a few minutes to collect his thoughts and make up his mind with what demeanour he should appear in the presence of the woman whom he believed to be the murderess of his father. Cold and reserved, with a mournful look and slow meas- ured pace, did Valentine advance into that room to which Ernestina had been shown. He was well acquainted with her; he had often met her in society, at the time, too, when she was carrying on that intrigue with his father which he had so little suspected. He therefore now at once recognized her, as she raised her veil on his appearance, and that she had come upon the business which was uppermost in his thoughts, indeed, upon the only business on which she could possibly visit him at all at such an hour, he immediately perceived by the fixed pallor and altered, care-worn look that she wore. For it was a look of that nature which showed that it had only been recently stamped upon the counte- nance, as if by the effect of some evil intelligence made known within only a few hours past. ‘You know wherefore I am here? ” said Lady Ernestina, at once addressing Valentine in a tone which, though slightly tremulous, indicated a mind made up for even the most painful ordeal. ‘‘ But in the name of God, do not believe anything downright outrageous against me. OCulpable, very culpable I was, but only as so many women often are.” “In one word, tell me, Lady Ernestina, is my father dead? ”’ asked Malvern, hurriedly. “"O heavens, yes!’”’ she answered, bursting into tears; ay, and it was an unfeigned fit of weeping in which the pent-up feelings of the last two hours now found vent. “ He is dead! Oh, how could I have hoped otherwise? ’’ and Valentine, averting his countenance, wept; but suddenly turning toward Ernestina, he clutched her by the arm in a paroxysm of uncontrollable feeling, saying, “‘ Tell me how he came by his death.”’ ‘“‘ In the endeavour to save my honour,” replied Ernestina, CORDICLIOOO (CS)