The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 44: what you’re looking at

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

28 REYNOLDS’ WORKS she had seen and heard? But still, with her habitual caution and cold reserve, she said nothing, — quietly awaiting the moment when she would be called upon to testify to all that had come to her knowledge, or until the tremendous truth (as she supposed it to be) should explode from another quarter. At the time that the Honourable Wilson Stanhope was taking his departure in the manner just described, Lavinia was engaged in her own private sitting-room adjoining her bedchamber. She was reading a book, and dreaming of no evil. All of a sudden the duke entered the room, and she perceived in a moment that there was something wrong. He had tutored his looks to assume an air of ill-subdued rage, and walking straight up to her as she rose in affright from the sofa, he said, “‘ Madam, you are faithless.”’ ‘“ Good heavens, Hugh! what fearful misconception is this? ’’ cried the startled duchess, becoming pale as death. ‘‘T repeat, madam,” responded her husband, sternly and vehemently, ‘‘ you have violated your duties as a wife, — you have dishonoured me.” Now it was that the countenance of the duchess became crimson with indignation, while her whole form trembled violently, and she exclaimed, ‘“‘ No, my lord. Never was accusation more foul — more false.”’ ‘‘ Every woman who is thus detected speaks in a similar strain,” retorted the duke. ‘“‘ Here, madam, is one proof, and others have likewise come to my knowledge.” “Oh, this is going too far,” cried Lavinia, the tears gushing forth from her beautiful blue eyes, and her bosom heaving with convulsive violence. ‘The proof, madam, I say,” thundered forth the Duke of Marchmont, and he produced a letter, which he hastily unfolded and displayed to her view. “ Whatever that letter may be, I know not,” exclaimed the duchess, and raising her clasped hands, she cried, ‘‘ Heaven is my witness that I am innocent.” ‘Innocent? ”’ echoed Marchmont, forcing himself to look and to speak as if he were boiling with rage. ‘‘ What! innocent in the face of such damning evidence as this? Be- sides, madam, your paramour has admitted his guilt. This letter, intended for your hands, but accidentally dropped by the villain who has dishonoured me — ” Gomicidooks