The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 360: what you’re looking at

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

338 THE COURT OF LONDON seemed to have expanded into a finer and more dazzling bloom in the hothouse of London fashion. Nor less did it strike Louisa that everything at all girlish which might have lingered in the manners or looks of Clara some months back had now totally departed. The finest gloss of courtly ele- gance seemed to rest upon her like a charm and hang about her like a spell; there was a grandeur in every movement, a brilliancy in every gesture, softened and subdued only by the polish of an exquisite refinement, and more so by the tenderness of feeling which she now experienced at this meeting with her sister. In a word, our fair young heroine, although she had ever been accustomed to look up to Clara as an elder sister, now regarded her with the deference that mingles in the affection which a daughter experiences for a mother. For Louisa still felt herself a mere girl; whereas Clara looked in every respect not only the brilliant woman, but also the great lady. Thus Louisa, with her nineteen years and a half, felt as if she were a miss of fifteen or sixteen in the presence of this elder sister, who, though only twenty-one and a half, possessed all the worldly demeanour as well as the luxuriance of charms which characterize the superb matron of at least five or six years older. Such were the impressions respectively made by this meeting of the sisters; and when they had gazed long and with earnest fondness upon each other, Louisa suddenly exclaimed, ‘“‘ Oh, Clara, are you angry with me for having abandoned my home, for having gone to Paris, and now for having come up to London? ”’ “Do not talk of anger, dearest girl,” said Clara, ‘ while our hearts are yet throbbing with all the first transports of joy at this meeting. Angry with you, dearest Louisa! No, no, it were impossible. Not for worlds would I bring a tear into your eyes or change into gloom those smiles which now gleam so sweetly upon your lips. Ah! dearest Louisa, it is as if I were thy mother instead of thy sister that I am now talking to thee; and it is with such a feeling that I rejoice, oh, I rejoice unfeignedly, to be enabled to ‘age balm into thy wounded heart.”’ ‘Oh, dearest Clara,’ interrupted Louisa, surveying her sister with mingled amazement and suspense, ‘‘ to what do you allude? Alas! you cannot as yet know my sorrows; because, when I sat down in Paris to commit them to paper CORVICLOOOKS (C(O) m