The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 122: what you’re looking at

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

—— er me 108 THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. tere illic a LLL LL LL ttt, questions,” replied Venetia, averting her blushing, glowing countenance, while the slow but deep heaving of her superbly-developed bust evinced the agitation which prevailed within that bosom of incomparable grandeur. “Ah! dear lady,” exclaimed the Prince, drawing his chair closer towards her, “ you will not be cruel towards me—I am certain youwill not! Werela | humble individual, I should not have dared thus to address you so hastily—so precipitately—within the first few minutes of our acquaintance. But you are well aware that f am an exceptional being —not having the leisure for all those protracted assiduities and that lengthened courtship, so to speak, which under other circumstances would be a duty so cheerfully performed. Now, answer me ~—-and answer me candidly, Venetia: are your affections already engaged?—do you love some happy and enviable young man?—is your heart bestowed upon one whose bride you hope to be?” “I havo had many suitors, sir,” was the soft and murmuring reply, as the richly-fringed lids drooped lower upon the melting blue orbs which they now more than half concealed, while the magnificent amplitude of the lady’s bosom seemed to swell as if each glowing globe must burst from the corset that imprisoned them. “You have had many suitors?” echoed the Prince, advancing his chair still nearer to the lovely woman, and speaking in the subdued but tremulous voice of profound passion: “ but you do not tell me that any one of them has succeeded in obtaining an avowal from your lips? ‘Then may I not hope—may I not fancy that your heart is in- deed disengaged, Venetia—dear Venetia——” “T have never loved, sir,” she observed, in a voice that was scarcely audible. “Can you love me?—will you love me?” asked the Prince, taking her hand, to withdraw which only a slight attempt was made—and then, feeling that he retained it in his own, she abandoned it to his clasp. “ Youare aware, Venetia,” he continued in that deep voice of masculine harmony which gave such power to his insidious language, “ that I dare not speak to you of marriage. But the mistress of a Prince—a Prince Regent, who will some day be a King — is far above the wife of the proudest peer in Christendom. You know that I am speaking the truth, Venetia,” he said, his tones becoming more melting—the pressure of his hand more fervid; “and you are too sensible not to be aware that the lady on whom I bestow my love will enjoy all honour, distinction, and respect in the highest circles of fashion. Yes, Venetia— consent to be mine—mine so far as love can render you mine~and I promise you eternal fidelity. I have been deemed fickle and inconstant: but Tam not so in reality. The truth is that hitherto where beauty has charmed me at first, vanity and shallow-mindedness have disgusted me afterwards. ¥ have been dazzled by the charms of many women: but few have possessed those mental qualities which fix the impression and render in- delible the effect originally produced by the graces of the person. With you it is different. Not only are you as lovely as perfect loveliness can make you,—not only do your external charms excel aught in the form of female beauty that ever met my eyes before,—but you are endowed with those intellectual attractions that rivet the affection ETT SS n/t =i ES which your charms inspire. Your conversation must ever please—your opinions upon all topics must be valuable—and your temper cannot fail to be endearing, as your wit is calculated to sustain and invigorate the healthy cheerfulness of the | soul. You see that I understand your character and your disposition well, Venetia: and if you will | ————— permit me to enjoy the disposal of your happiness, — depend upon it that I shall ever consult your wel- | fare to the extent of my abilities. Answer me, then, Venetia—answer me, dear girl—and tell me whether you will consent to be mine upon these terms ?” While the Prince Regent was thus speaking, the colour went and came upon Venetia’s damask countenance: but every time the warm blood rushed back to those cheeks so soft and yet so firm, they glowed with a deepening dye. And the superb bosom rose and sank with quicker heavings —while her rich red lips remained apart, as i breathing the mute sweets to which her tongue | refused verbal utterance: so that nothing could | exceed the charm of this soft languor and subdued voluptuousness of beauty. “ Venetia, did you hear me ?—will you be mine™ | asked the Prince, gently moving from the chair to the sofa, on which he placed himself by her side, still retaining her soft plump hand in his own—that © hand which trembled as he pressed it! “But if I were to answer you in the affirmative,” she said, in a soft billing tone, as she hung down her head so as to conceal her countenance from the looks which she felt as it were to be fixed upon her with all the ardour of passion,—“ would you not think the worse of me for being so hasty—so precipitate ——” “ Not more than you must think so of me,” re- turned the Prince, already foreseeing that his triumph was assured: and he gently passed his left arm round her waist, while his right hand still retained herown. “ Tell me, then, dear Venetia— keep me not in suspense——will you be mine ?” “T will,’ she answered, in a voice that was not louder than the whispering zephyr: “I will be thine—thine !” “ Dearest, dearest Venetia!” exclaimed his Royal Highness, now seizing her as it were with all the devouring avidity of passion and straining her in his arms. He pressed his lips to her’s and drank in the fragrance of her breath. Never, Oh! never to him, experienced in all sensuous delights though he were, had woman’s lips appeared so sweet—so ripe—so luscious, with their dewy moisture! Then he imprinted a thousand kisses upon her cheeks and her forehead—and then his caresses recurred to those delicious lips again! Thence they wan- | dered to the sloping shoulders, so white—so plump —so warm; and her luxuriant hair felt soft as velvet against his cheek. His passion became | almost ungovernable: it appeared a dream—a — veritable dream that he could so soon have reached © the threshold of paradise,—he who had entered that room but an hour previously as a stranger, save by name, to its charming inmate! Bat it was assuredly no dream as his lips wandered kissingly | from that luscious mouth te those damask, glowing cheeks,—from those cheeks where the blood man- ‘tled hotly, to the shoulders whose polished surface was catching the crimson tinge,—and thence back (€() SC OmichbOooks