The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 96: what you’re looking at

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

MR. HARLEY 7o suffused her cheeks was indicative of deep and burning Joy, and not an evidence of indignation; and Mr. Harley knew by the melting voluptuousness which beamed in her eyes, and by the profound heaving of her swelling bosom, and the sympathetic thrill which shot through every vein in her fair hand during the few seconds that he held it in his grasp, — by all these symptoms was he assured that he had only to demand the love of Octavia Clarendon in order to obtain it. Perceiving the preparations which had been made on the table, Mr. Harley declared that if there were one thing that he longed for more than another in the shape of refreshment at that moment, it was a cup of tea; and this assurance induced Pauline to bustle about all the more actively, while the guest seated himself next to Octavia. ‘We have to thank you, Mr. Harley,’ said this young lady, her bosom palpitating with the subsiding of her emo- tions, even as the swell remains on the surface of the ocean after the storm has passed, — “‘ we have to thank you for the handsome present you sent us this afternoon — ” “A mere trifle— not worthy of your acceptance,’ in- terrupted the visitor; ‘‘ but it consisted of the only things I could heap together in a hurry, for the purpose of proving that you were not absent from my thoughts — as you, indeed, never can be,”’ he added in a low and hasty whisper aside to Octavia, and with strong emphasis on the pronoun. ‘“ But I promised you certain explanations,” he continued, almost immediately, perceiving that the elder sister's con- fusion was such as to be likely to attract the notice of Pauline. “At least I hope that my valet Edwards did not omit to mention the fact that I knew an apology to be necessary for my abrupt, unaccountable, and apparently rude de- parture the night before last.” ‘Your domestic obeyed your orders with exactitude, Mr. Harley,” said Octavia, now recovering her seli-pos- session; “but we require no explanation — being well aware,” she added, timidly, “ that you are incapable of acting with intentional rudeness.”’ ‘‘ A thousand thanks, Miss Clarendon, — dear Miss Claren- don, — for your kind opinion of me,” exclaimed Mr. Harley, fixing upon her a look of indescribable tenderness, which she involuntarily returned, for she was not mistress of her actions, much less of her emotions. ‘‘ I must, however, in (C(O) AAI Doo (C©)