The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 379: what you’re looking at

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

ON a eS THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON. 377 <> tetiemesmemeereeentyre ll OE I have placed myself in his power. Our crimes,} “I have seen the countess; she has called here like eur follies, have been mutual. Our guarantee | twice, and told me her melancholy story. A nature is mutual, and so would be our punishment. Leave like hers is too proud and passionate to dissemble. my house,” he added; “leave the man you have! Whatever the service she requires or the mystery plundered and would have dishonoured, and take | between you, I feel persuaded that it is not love, ~rith you my scorn and defiance.” My only fear is that it should prove ——” With a countenance in which rage and malice were; “ What?” depicted, the baffled libertine turned upon his heel| “ Vengeance! Oh, Richard! Richard! stain not and left the room, vowing secretly to be revenged for | your hands with blood!” the insult he had received. “Blood!” said her conscience-stricken husband, “ Thank Heaven he is gone,” said Rose. “ Would | over whom the recollection of the young stranger, so you had never known him!” | cruelly murdered by himself and Faddle, came with a “Amen!” repeated her husband, “with all my | sickening force. heart! Rose,” he added, kindly taking her by the; “Think,” she added, “on the restless days, the hand, “I know that I am unworthy of your love—_| sleepless nights, the hideous dreams which haunt the that I have blighted your young existence. But in | murderer's pillow. Poverty is bad enough; but it is this instance you have nothing to reproach me. By | contentment, happiness, if borne with a clear con- heavens! I swear there is no more of love between | science. Folly may be forgiven or atoned; bloodshed, me and the Countess de Villa than you and the vil- | never.” lain who has just left us,” | I know, I feel it!” exclaimed Wilmott, gazing on “T know it.” her wildly. “ There is a hell in conscience which no “You know it!” repeated Wilmott, in astonish- | prayers can quiet, no change of scene extinguish, For ment. ' heaven’s sake, speak of it no more!” s ‘ , il () = Comilcioo S (CO)