The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 370: what you’re looking at

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

340 THE COURT OF LONDON part, to the various crimes alleged against us. Not that we glory in them; on the contrary, we may look back upon them with regret, but they are irrevocable.”’ ‘“ Regret! ’’ echoed Lady Holderness, with a contemptuous curl of the lips; “I will not allow the term to be coupled with my name. In other respects, Eugene,’’ she added, more mildly, “‘ you may act as spokesman for us both.” ‘ And I shall be as brief as possible,”’ said the earl. Then, after a few moments’ pause, he continued in the following manner, while keeping his eyes intently fixed upon the Marchioness of Bellenden: “ Your ladyship has adopted a course which is characterized by the most admirable cunning and astuteness. But, with all your powers of , dissimulation, you could not avoid the telltale pallor which spread upon your cheek when I just now pro- claimed a fact which was in itself an accusation against you. Ah! now you become nervous and uneasy once more, and you are in suspense to learn how much we know of your past history, how far we can criminate you, and to what extent you have to fear us! Oh, it was a fine stroke of policy on your part to pay a visit to Warwickshire and cause certain investigations to be made as if you were alto- gether ignorant beforehand of what would be the results and to what discoveries those investigations would lead; whereas you well knew that the plate on the coffin-lid had been changed, that the register had been altered, and that Raymond Montgomery lay dead in the buttress of the bridge! Yes, all those circumstances you knew beforehand; because — infatuated, besotted fool that I was!—I revealed them to your ears when, in the mystic darkness of a voluptuous boudoir, my arms encircled your naked, palpitating lore and my head lay pillowed upon your bosom! a ‘My lord — this insult — what means it? ”’ stata the Marchioness of Bellenden, springing to her feet, while her countenance glowed with that deep crimson hue which is excited either by shame or by indignation, and which as frequently betokens outraged innocence as conscious guilt. ‘“T mean, Cousin Laura,’’ said Earl Montgomery, with a semismile of sardonic triumph, “ that beneath the placid exterior which you are wont to wear, an Etna of frantic passions is concealed, and that the garb of widowhood which you have worn for twenty years is nothing more nor less than CONMIEIOOKS (EO)