The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 235: what you’re looking at

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

PRIVATE ROOM AT THE POLICE OFFICE 205 were a better, oh, far better introduction on the part of that pale but handsome young man to the poor but lovely maiden than if a duke or a duchess had presented him to her with all*the usual forms and ceremonies, hollow words and meaningless obeisances. ‘“ Yes, I thought how happy I should be, were I really able to step forward and claim you as a sister,’”’ continued the young man, encouraged by the look of tender interest which Rose had cast upon him; ‘‘ and while this idea was yet oscillating in my mind, I overheard the same person who had last spoken say, ‘ Yes, poor girl! she lost her parents under the cruellest circumstances; for I was living next door to them at the time.’ Then this individual began to narrate some distressing tale to those near him; while I, unable to restrain my feelings any longer, determined to present myself to you, offer you my congratulations on the triumphant issue of this day’s proceedings, and beseech you, Miss Foster, to regard me henceforth as a friend.”’ These last words were uttered in a low, tremulous tone, and with a certain hesitation of manner; for the stranger was evidently fearful of giving offence to that maiden, whose mind he felt convinced was as pure as her person was beauti- ful. ‘‘T am deeply, deeply grateful to you for the kind interest which you have shown in my behalf,” said Miss Foster, her own voice trembling with emotions profoundly stirred. ‘‘ But since you are acquainted with my name, permit me to inquire that of one whose friendly conduct of this evening will never be effaced from my memory.” ‘“My name is George Woodfall,”’ was the response, “‘ and I am by profession an artist. But let us now speak of your- self, Miss Foster, for I am determined to act as your friend; and if the identity of orphanage do not give me this right and even impose this duty, then human nature has no ties and society no sympathies beyond mere conventionalities and empty, hollow flatteries. Tell me, then, Miss Foster, tell me whether you have kind friends to take care of you, a happy home to receive you.” “Home! the orphan’s home!’’ murmured the young maiden, her bosom heaving with a profound sigh, approach- ing almost to a subdued sob, at the same time. “Oh, then I may yet be enabled to serve you, Miss (C(O) mG 6)(0)©) So