The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 130: what you’re looking at

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

108 THE COURT OF LONDON knee, and not only submitting to his toying, but likewise bestowing upon him frequent caresses in return. ‘ What, can you possibly love an old man like me so pro- foundly as you would have me believe? ”’ asked Lord Holder- ness, an indistinct and very slight suspicion of his wife’s sincerity flashing across his brain. “Old!” she ejaculated, with an indignation so well assumed that it instantly destroyed his misgiving. ‘‘ You are only a year or two past fifty, in your prime.” ‘‘ And you are eighteen, Fernanda,’’ observed the husband, now gazing with a deep but sensuous fondness upon the truly beautiful countenance of his wife. ‘Oh, let us not enter upon these comparisons, my dear Walter,’’ she exclaimed, her red lips and her white teeth shining in delicious contrast as her smile beamed radiantly upon the credulous man whom she was thus bending to her will and enthralling in her Circean meshes. “I must now give you a further insight into my own position and likewise into my plans. Know, then, my dear husband, — and you will start in dismay when I reveal the dread truth to your ears, — that I have committed a crime the penalty of which is death, and that there are three people in the world who are acquainted therewith.” “ Merciful God! is this possible, Fernanda? ’”’ exclaimed her husband, shuddering all over and clasping her with convulsive violence i in his arms. ‘‘ It is possible, and it is true,’ returned Lady Holderness. ‘“ And now a strange and wondrous mystery is about to be unfolded to you, Walter. For that malady which was silently, noiselessly, and unaccountably carrying Arthur Eaton to the tomb, and from which he has recovered as marvellously and even far more speedily, that malady, I say, was a slow poisoning, and I was the poisoner.”’ “ You! ” ejaculated the husband of this terrible woman. “Yes, I! And now do you abhor me, Walter?” she de- manded, in a tone so sweet and plaintive in its half-reproach- fulness that it could only be compared to that fragrant zephyr of Orient climes which carries perfume to the sense and pestilence to the heart. ‘“ Abhor you! Oh, no, no,’ exclaimed the infatuated Lord Holderness. ‘‘But continue, Fernanda, continue. We are to become criminal together, and our love is to equal the COMmiclooolkxS.