The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 46: what you’re looking at

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

THE EXPLOSION 29 “ Hugh,” cried the duchess, almost wild with mingled in- dignation, frenzy, and despair, “ it is a horrible mistake — a frightful error. God is my witness that never by word or thought have I dishonoured you.”’ “Ah! you dare persist in this impudent denial?” ex- claimed the auke. ‘ Why, woman, here is the letter in which your paramour addresses you in the language of love, speaks of the favours you have bestowed upon him, and entreats their renewal.’’ ‘Hugh, this is dreadful,” murmured the miserable duchess, sinking upon the sofa, covering her face with her hands, and bursting forth into an agony of weeping. “Oh, there are other proofs yet to come,” continued the duke. ‘Since Saturday night has your frailty been known to me, but I have dissimulated —I have endeavoured to blind myself against my own convictions. ‘Too merciful, perhaps, and too confiding, — or, rather, too slow to be con- vinced, — 1 waited for other evidence — and it is here, — unmistakable, irrefutable, damning.” — As the duke held forth the letter with one hand, he dashed the other against it while he thus spoke with every appear-. ance of infuriate passion. Indeed, though having not the slightest legitimate ground, as the reader well knows, for the - present proceeding, he had nevertheless literally lashed himself up into a rage. But he was for a moment somewhat staggered when the duchess — suddenly becoming calm, and acquiring a degree of firmness at which even she herself was astonished — advanced up to him, and said, “‘ I can look you in the face, Hugh, without blushing. This is a matter which cannot and must not be disposed of amidst a torrent of passion. I court and demand the completest investigation. - There has been no circumstance in my life to justify so foul a calumny; there has never even been the faintest levity on my part to give colour to such an accusation.”’ “ But this letter? ”’ cried the duke, holding it up before her. “ A letter might be found addressed to yourself,’’ re- sponded Lavinia, ‘ and charging you with all conceivable iniquities, but it nevertheless would not prove your guilt.” “I tell you there are other proofs,” vociferated March- mont, and he rang the bell violently. The duchess resumed her seat, and being now fortified with a calm dignity, as well as being upheld by the conscious- (SO) m COnnIECDOOKS