The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 287: what you’re looking at

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

272 THE MYSTERIES. SE ia a 0 i I know that you have recently experienced many sad | Speak, then, my dearest Pauline—and your words misgivings and painful forebodings ? “ But it is so hard to abandon those delicious hopes which are indeed necessary to one’s existence!” ex- claimed Octavia, in a voice fraught with the terrible accents of despair. “ Remember, my dearest sister,” said Pauline, her tone suddenly becoming hoarse, thick, and almost ferocious,—“ remember,” she repeated, more em- phatically than at first, “that the Prince of Wales is now undeserving of your love. Butif you should still feel that your heart clings to his image ——” “My God! how can I ever efface that image from my soul?” exclaimed Octavia, now gazing in ase tonishment upon Pauline. “ What, my dear sister— do you suppose that I can pluck forth this love of mine from my heart,—as if it were a flower which his faithless hand had placed in my bosom,—and trample it under foot? Oh! no—no: it were im- possible! Look into the depths of your own soul, Pauline—consider well the nature of that affection which you bear for Gabriel—and then tell me whether it is something which you can break like glass, snap like a twig, or crush like a delicate rose- bud.” “ No—no—it is not,’’ murmured Pauline, her voice becoming soft and tremulous again ; “and I was wrong—or rather foolish—to hope for an instant that you could so easily triumph over your heart’s fondest affections. But, tell me, my dear sister—tell me how you mean to act——” “ Did youspeak to—to—him last night?” inquired Octavia, in a stifling voice. “Yes—and he offered to make any reparation which lay in his power,” responded Pauline. “ What reparation can he make?” exclaimed Oc- tavia, bitterly. “He found my heart a temple pre- pared for the holiest, sincerest, most impassioned worship which ever constituted the love that woman bears for man—and he has left that heart a ruin! Oh! my beloved sister, counsel—advise—instruct me: for I have no friend on earth in whom I can confide save thou!” And, with tears again streaming from her eyes, Octavia threw herself upon the bosom of Pauline. “T know not what course to reeommend—--—My God! I am as much bewildered as yourself,” ex- claimed the latter, as she clasped her unhappy sister in an embrace which love and grief rendered con- vulsively passionate. “But does he love me?—or has his affection subsided?” asked Octavia, slowly raising her head and looking intently upon Pauline’s countenance. “Oh! you do not answer me—you avert your eyes—and your manner convinces me that even his very love is dead !” “ No—no, Octavia,” exclaimed Pauline, empha- tically—“ I do not mean you to understand that! But if his affection for you be ever so strong, you cannot enjoy it in honour to yourself! Ah! it was this—it was this that was uppermost in my mind when I averted my looks and dared not answer you. For listen to me attentively, my well-be- loved sister,” continued the young lady, wiping her eyes and summoning all her mental energies to her aid. “ Speak—speak,” murmured Octavia. “I feel as if you were the elder sister—or as if you were a mother to me: for this cruel blow has sadly changed me within the last quarter of 1n hour! SS seen will console and strengthen me.” “In the first place, Octavia,” said the younger Miss Clarendon, “it is absolutely necessary that you should exercise an immense control over your feelings. To this point you must tutor yourself at once—without delay. Our father my return to the room—visitors may be announced unexpect- edly—and the strangest suspicions would be ex- cited were we found sad, and weeping, and afflicted thus sorely. “Courage, then — dear sister — cou- rage!” exclaimed Pauline; “and nerve yourself to look this tremendous misfortune in the face—to contemplate it with as much calmness as you can call to your aid—to examine it in all its bearings— to study all its tendencies—and to arrive at some settled opinion how to act.” “ Yes—yes: I will be calm—I will be tranquil,” murmured Octavia, sobbing "profoundly between the broken assurances which she thus gave her sister. “ But, my God! the calamity is dreadful, Pauline—dear Pauline; and I know not whether it will end in suicide or madness !” “O heavens! talk not thus wildly, my beloved Octavia!” exclaimed the younger Miss Clarendon, embracing her sister and lavishing upon her the most endearing caresses. “ Come—let us converse seriously—quietly—calmly——” | “ But have you anything to suggest ?” demanded Octavia, hastily—a ray of hope flashing in upon her soul. “ Alas! I am myself almost bewildered,” said Pauline. “ And yet there are two alternatives for an injured woman to choose between in your case.” “Two alternatives!” exclaimed Octavia. “Oh! yes,” she added bitterly :—“ I have already men- tioned them—madness or suicide !” “Sister, you will distract me—you will render me unfit to counsel or console you!” cried Pauline. “In the name of God, Octavia,” she exclaimed, throwing her arms round the unhappy young lady’s neck, “do not talk thus—but fulfil your pro- mise——” ‘What promise did I make?” inquired Octavia, impatiently. «That you would be calm and tranquil—that you would listen to me with attention,” said Pauline, in the most endearing tone. “ Were we not talking just now of the love which we bear for each other——” “Yes, dearest Pauline—and I am wrong, very wrong to say anything to distress you,” interrupted Octavia, returning her sister’s caresses. “ Now, Pauline, lam calm—indeed I am: I will listen to you with attention, my dear good sister. You were telling me that there are two alternatives for my contemplation. Ican see none, My brain whirls —I am bewildered !” And she laid her head upon Pauline’s shoulder. “Rest yourself there, my belovec eister,” said the young lady; “and listen while I explain myself to you. Do not interrupt me—but hear me to the end : and I will speak slowly that you may follow me easily and readily as I proceed—for I can well un- derstand, my poor Octavia, that this blow has fallen with tremendous weight upon your brain. I was saying, then, that there are two alternatives for you to contemplate. The first is to seek redress at the hands of the Prince of Wales—the second is to de- vour your grief in secret. You may ask me what LO I 7 — 7 ~ MIGOOOKS (Cl 0) (C(O)