The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 136: what you’re looking at

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

- 130 tirned so eloquently towards him; “ am I to. proclaim myself a stern tyrant, and keep you helplessly en- thralled; or, in a more generous spirit, shall I release you from your unwilling bondage, and leave nothing fettered but my heart?” “Oh! Walsingham,” exclaimed the danseuse, her head drooping on hisshoulder ; “ it was not that I sighed for the return of that life and gaiety to which I have been accustomed, nor that I regretted the absence of those hollow praises to which I have been comtpelled to listen. But all is here so quiet, so still, so different to the animated scene in which I have so long par- ticipated, that, despite my efforts to resist it, I have felt my spirits saddened by the contrast. A moment ago I even imagined that your own figure crossing the gravelled walk was that of a robber.” “ Still dwelling on that strange fancy, then,” said Walsingham, laughing away the fears that her ad- venture had excited; “must 1 again assure you, my charming Celestine, that you have no reason for alarm ? The protection that these bars and bolts afford against a midnight intruder are not to be so lightly estimated ; and if you require a still greater proof of the security of the mansion from depredation, I may tell you that, however adrcitly any attempt of the kind might be made, the vigilance of my own domestics would effec- tually prevent it taking place undiscovered.” “Tt is impessible to continue sad when your lord- ship is present,” responded the fair girl, yielding to the ardent caresses that Walsingham bestowed. “I feel a confidence when you are at ays ~ that imme- diately restores my self-possession, ose timorous fancies for which you chide me are dispelled as by a charm.” “Let us, then, surrender ourselves to its magical influence,” returned the nobleman, “ and give up every thing henceforth for the study of each other’s happiness—the enjoyment of that real world of bliss which it is a pleasure to create and a paradise to inhabit.” “J am thine—thine alone,” faltered the blushing girl, as she sank into the arms of her lover. “ With thee I feel will be realised on earth all the happiness that my wildest dreams have taught me to expect, To thee, Walsingham, I give a heart that bears no image but that thou hast engraven on its spotless shrine; it can receive no impress but from thee. In return, I ask from you the same devotedness—the same eternal constancy.” “JT swear that both in my devotion and my fidelity you shall find no change,” answered the nobleman with impassioned energy, as he smothered her face and neck with ardent kisses. ‘‘ Never till now, my own Celestine, did I know that there was a prize to be sought beyond the possession of beauty, but you have made me acknowledge a greater value in your sex. I love you not only for those exquisite charms of your person, in which you have no rival in my eyes, but also for that more lasting attraction, the qualities of your mind. Daily as 1 came to know you more, I learned to love you better; and now he who, like a wayward butterfly, bas flitted through the May of life in careless sport from flower to flower, has found the fairest blossom in his wanderings, and on this he means to rest himself content for ever.” “And yet,” cried Celestine, looking up earnestly into the face of the nobleman, as, with one hand re- posing on his shoulder, she pushed back her banded hair, that had overshaded her brow, “and yet you would refuse to give that sanctity to the tie that would be my best assurance of that feeling being permanent.” oC eee. eee —_——-_—_——— THE MYSTERIES OF jnflicted. “I know you would shrink from one of turning the folds of the papes s¥e") — LONDON. “It is the weakness of the class to which I belong, and not the result of my own wishes,” rejoined Wal- singham. “ There is a conventional barrier raised by the higher classes of society, through which I have not the moral courage to break. To preserve the purity of our patrician descent unimpaired, the partner I espouse should be of equal birth and family with mine, and from this rank only could I choose a wife. There was not one among the many whom I had seen that approached the standard that my ambitious hopes had raised; none till I saw you that roused my admiration into passion. Thus, Celes- tine, I have remained till now unwedded; and thus it is that, since 1 cannot love where I should marry, I must be doomed by circumstances never to marry where I Jove.” “Your candour, my lord, gives me confidence in your sincerity,” sighed the girl, as the words sank deep into her memory, and the last hope to which she had clung, of revealing to him her supposed origin, gave way under the blow which he had humble parentage.” “Nevor need I on that account be a less entbu- siastic lover of yourself,’ added Walsingham; “for happily, though neither title nor wealth may have favoured your ancestry, Romani has assured me that you are not of ignoble extraction, and therefore even regarding you only as a companion, the strongest supporter of those prejudices, absurd as they may seem, would not suffer from the union that exists between us,” . “ And did Madame Romani say no more than this?” asked Celestine, timorously, and scarcely daring to encounter the look that she inyited. “Nothing,” answered the nobleman, responding to her question in a tone of surprise, “nor did I offer to inquire further; but now, since you have alluded to the subject, I may remind you ——-” Fortunately the deferential knock of a domestic at that moment interrupted the observation that Wal- singham was about to make, and spared Celestina the confusion that would have accompanied its utterance. The footman, who had awaited the reply of the noble- man before he intruded on their privacy, now entcred with a note upon a salver, and added that the bearer left it with an injunction to be delivered instantly, as it was from the Earl of Winterton, and upon business of an urgent nature. * This is indeed unfortunate,” remarked Walsing- | ham, as he rapidly glanced at the contents. “I haye | here an urgent summons from the Larl of Winterton, requesting me most earnestly to losé not a moment in seeing him, as bis life is hourly despaired of, and he has some communications to make of a most import- ant character.” : “Oh, fly at once to the bedside of your dying friend!” exclaimed Celestine, her sympathy being deeply aroused by the painful tidings thus conveyed; “let not an instant be lost in preparation, and suffer | no consideration for me to hinder your lerdship from paying that duty which friendship requires from you at this unhappy emergency. What can have caused this sudden indisposition ?” . “There I am myself at fault,” said Walsingham, vainly seeking to relieve his perplexity by a re- perusal of the letter; ‘I parted from him in his library but a few hours ago, and he was then in the enjoy- ment of his usual health. Some accident, I am afraid, — must have happened. It is strange too,’ he continued, Ghooks.co SE —— + —