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.

P44 THE ———e — note might have had occasion at some time to write to your sister,” said Florimel, cruelly embarrassed. “ Write to my sister!” ejaculated Pauline, in amazement. ‘“ Surely you cannot fancy that so vile a woman as the authoress of this letter must be, could hold any correspondence with Octavia? O Gabriel! It is not because my sister has shown every proof of confidence towards him whom she loves—it is not because she is already his wife in the eyes of heaven, though not in the estimation of the world, that you should think so injuriously of her !” ‘“* No—no—I was mistaken—I was wrong!” cried Fiorimel. “And now let us change the discourse, my beloved Pauline ——” “We cannot abandon the topic in its present state,’ said Miss Clarendon, firmly. Who is the woman that wrote this letter, and whom you sus- pected to be in communication with Octavia ?” “T dare not—must not——” stammered Flcrimel, with increasing embarrassment. “Oh! a light breaks in upon me!” suddenly ‘ ejaculated Pauline. “It is at the house of Mrs, Brace, the milliner, that Octavia meets her lover and you are in Mrs. Brace’s confidence——you told Oc- tavia so when you accompanied her home on that memorable morning —~ Yes—everything confirms My suspicions——and it is this same Mrs. Brace who is the vile authoress of that most vile letter ! My God! what wiil become of poor Octavia? She is deceived —— I can read it all ——”’ And, covering her face with her hands, Pauline wept bitterly. “What have I done? —what mischief have I made?” cried Florimel, starting from his seat, and beginning to pace to and fro in an agitated manner. * Yo set nyself right with you, Pauline, I have en- gendered the most terrible suspicions in your mind ——” “It was my fault, Gabriel—dear Gabriel!” she exclaimed, springing towards him and throwing her arms about his neck. “Yes—it was my fault,” she continued, in a voice broken with deep sobs: “I compelled you to speak out—I extracted the truth from you——and I appreciate all the delicacy which prompted you to remain silent —— Oh! my poor Octavia—I fear that you are deceived—betrayed— Jost—undone: for no honourable man could place the woman whom he intends io make his wife in contact with a wretch so vile as this Mrs. Brace!” And Pauline sank, conyulsed with grief, upon the sofa. “"Tranquillise yourself, my beloved—in the name of God! tranquillise yourself,” said Florimel, adopt- ing his most soothing tone. “ All may not be so bad as you fancy —— Octavia’s intended husband may not be acquainted with the real character of this Mrs. Brace——And remember, dearest, that amongst men the milliner’s private avocation is not looked upon ——” ‘Do not advance anything in extenuation of the wicked woman,” interrupted Pauline, with im- passioned tone and manner. “I will forget that you ever kuew her—that you ever made her services available to your own purposes: for that such has been the case, is too evident, Gabriel ——Neverthe- less, all that shall be forgotten, I say, if you will now lend me your assistance on behalf of my poor deluded sister. And remember, dear Gabriel,” continued the sweet girl, in a tone of earnest entreaty,—* remember that when you become my husband, Octavia is thereby ~~ = MYSTERIES, made your sister also—and as a brother you must be jealous of her honour. ‘To her father—her na- tural protectcr —all this unhappy business cannot be made known: but as you are already well ac- quainted with every detail—indeed, as it was from your own lips that I received the first hint respect-’ ing Octavia’s love and the connexion which she had formed so hastily—it is for you to unravel the whole, and ascertain who this Mr. Harley really is.” “ Mr. Harley !—is that the name?” inquired Flo- rimel, who now heard it for the first time; and at the same instant he recollected having been informed by Mrs. Brace that Octavia’s lover was a man of rank and shortly to be married, but that he had not the slightest intention of espousing the elder Miss Clarendon. ‘““Yes—his name is Harley,” repeated Pauline. “But I will show you a portrait which bears the most striking resemblance to him—for I myself have seen this Mr. Harley, and I can vouch for the marvellous accuracy of the likeness.” Thus speaking, the young lady wiped away her tears; and, opening a portfolio which lay upon the table, she displayed to the view of the astounded Lord Florimel the portrait of his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales. For nearly a minute the young nobleman gazed in speechless wonderment upon the print: but at length raising his eyes, and turning them slowly towards Pauline, he was shocked to perceive that her coun- tenance was ghastly pale—that her looks were wild and haggard—and that the colour had even fled from those lips which, naturally of such a delicious coral were now a!most as white as the pearls beneath. “My God! what is the matter ?”’ exclaimed Flo- rimel, extending his arms towards her;—and she sank, suddenly convulsed with sobs, upon his bosom. He seated himself on a chair—he took her upon his knees—he strained her passionately in a fond embrace—he kissed away the tears that now rained down her cheeks, to which the excitement of bitter anguish brought back a crimson glow. “ Sweetest—dearest Pauline,’ he murmured in her ears,—“ tranquillise yourself, [implore you! Never —never did I love you so ardently—so sincerely—so devotedly, as at this moment. My God! tell me what I can do for you, angelic girl: but dry those tears—subdue these rending sobs, I conjure—I en- treat you! Yes—TI will behave as a brother towards Octavia—because it now rests with yourself when I shall demand your hand of Mr. Clarendon and lead you to the altar. As your husband, Pauline, I shall acquire the right to vindicate the honour of Octavia; —and you have only to breathe your commands, in order to see them executed !” ; “Gabriel, your words console me—and these’ge- nerous assurances which they convey render me as proud of youas I was already fond,’ said Pauline, of her own accord approaching her lips to his own and returning the fervent kisses which he imprinted thereon: then, gently disengaging herself from his embrace, and taking a seat by his side,—but pldbing one of her fair hands in familiar and artless confi- dence upon his shoulder,—she observed, while pass- ing her handkerchief across her eyes, “ You have now seen the portrait of Octavia's lover; and if Mr. Har- ley be not the Prince of Wales himself, then never was resemblance more wonderful.” | “T am astonished—bewildered!””’ exclaimed Flo- ee — (C(O) Cc 6)(0)(0) KS ACE)