The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 132: what you’re looking at

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

eee THE MYSTERIES gave you to understand that he was a man of - broken fortunes—that the sources of his income, poor as it must be, were not ostensible—and that it was even rumoured he had been already married to an Hnelish lady, and that his wife was still alive. These and a thousand other things did our mother from time to time let drop, in order to set you against your beloved Etienne de Villebelle.” “But why, my dear Juliana,” asked Constance, “recapitulate all these things? why remind me of eircumstances which at the time troubled me much ? and what possible connexion is there between all this and the revelation which I am awaiting from your lips ?”” “‘T asked you to listen patiently, my dear sister,” rejoined Juliana, speaking with the seriousness of one who had not lost the thread of the discourse in any confusion of ideas, but was following it up in her own way and in order to lead her listener on by her own specific path to the point which must be ultimately reached. “ What I intended by all those recapitulations was to remind you of the pains and the trouble which our mother has taken in order to set you against the Marquis of Villebelle; and she only desisted from constantly bringing up his name in a disparaging manner when I counselled you to practice a dissimulation that should lead her to be- lieve her words had made the desired impression upon your mind and that your opinion had been altogether altered in respect to him. Well, but as I was saying, you see the immense trouble Lady Saxondale took to set youas she thought against the object of your affections; and had she not been led to believe that she had succeeded, she would have toiled on uuweariedly towards the same end— perhaps, indeed, until she had succeeded in accom- plishing it.” “ No, no—that were impossible!’’ exclaimed Con- stance with fervour: “for you know how tenderly und sincerely I love my Etienne, and how worthy he is uf my aftection, despite our mother’s disparag- ng repurts. But your own secret, Juliana sy “I am coming to that point,” answered the young OF THE COURT. 117 Not so much because he is without fortune—not #o much, perhaps, because he is of humble, or what is worse, unknown parentage —but because he is ina menial capacity because,” added Juliana, tremu- lously and hesitatingly, “he wears that garb which is the badge of servitude.” “Good heavens!” exclaimed Constance, a glearh of the real truth suddenly flashing in upon her mind: ‘is it possible——” “Oh! I have said too much—I have said too much already!” exclaimed Juliana, with bitterness of voice and an almost anguished curling of the lip. ‘ Constance, had your Marquis of Villebelle been the veriest menial that ever stooped to lower the steps of a proud patrician’s carriage, I should not have taught you to scorn and despise him— much less have scorned and despised him myself !”” “ Forgive me, dear sister—forgive me, if I have wounded your feelings,” said Constance, bursting into tears. “It was unintentional—it was rather in surprise than through any other impulse: and as to studied motive, I had none! Forgive me, I say:” —and she threw her arms round her sister’s neck. “Yes, I forgive you, dear Constance,” responded Juliana, who in her heart was glad that this little scene had taken place, inasmuch as it had disarmed her sister as it were of the strength of those feelings which she knew from the first must inevitably be excited by the mention of that name which had not as yet passed her lips. ‘‘And now since you have guessed who the object of my love is 7, “Yes: it is Frank—Francis Paton,” whispered Constance in her sister’s ear. “Tt is,” responded Juliana: and still farther to hush any scruples which her sister might have at listening to such a revelation or admitting the pro- priety of such an attachment, she at once assumed a proud position, exclaiming, “ Yes—it is he—our young page—at present a mere menial in the family! But so enthusiastic is my love, that I could almost glory in it.” Constance did not immediately make any com- ment; but unwinding her arms from her sister’s lady. ‘‘ Kre now you conjectured that the object of | neck, she slid back to her seat, and could not pre- ‘his loveof mine is one whom I need not be ashamed | vent herself from falling into a profound and serious to, acknowledg., and who would be acceptable to | train of reflections. cur mother vur relations, and our friends. Ah! my dear Constance, great as the prejudice of them all at first was against the Marquis of Villebelle—great as it still would be if they knew that your love con- tinues for him—yet would they weleome him into the fumily as your husband with exultation and en- thusiasm, in comparison with the feeling with which they would regard the individual in whom my affec- tions are centred.” “Juliana, you alarm me!” said Constance. “Is it possible that you love some one who is unworthy of your” “Ah! that is a phrase liable to many different constructions,” responded Juliana. “So long as the object of a lady’s love be an honourable, correct, and upright person, who shall dare pronounce him un- worthy of that love? But if inaddition to being ho- nourable, and virtuous, and good, he is likewise glo- riously handsome—a very Adonis—one of nature’s sublimest aristocracy so far as personal beauty is concerned,—again, I ask, who shall dare to scorn him as uaworthy the love of a patrician damsel ? Yet nearly all the world would do this! And why | A et st “You have given your love, Constance, to the Marquis of Villebelle,” said Juliana, after a long pause ; ‘and if circumstances do not sooner or later turn up favourably in your behalf, I presume you wil marry him in spite of mother, brother, rela- tives, and friends. In doing this, you will be right; because you will be consulting your own happiness I have told you so all along. But wherefore should you on the one hand consult your happiness, and I sacrifice mine on the other? Much as you love your Etienne, do I love my Francis.” “Then heaven forbid that I should venture te breathe a word against this love of your’s!” inter- rupted Constance, speaking frankly and ingenuously. ‘But does Francis know that you love him? have you told him so?” “ Not in words — not in words,’ responded Juliana: “but in looks—by the eyes—and by the thousand and one little signs and evidences in which love even unwillingly and unconsciously betrays itself. Do not think, Constance, that all on a sudden I abandoned myself to this passion: do not uoastns thet the moment I felt its influence I gave ttt ECOMmMIIclboooks (CO)