The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 183: what you’re looking at

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

166 THE COURT OF LONDON sinking to a dying tone, as her head drooped upon his shoulder and she fell upon his breast. It was still dark, at an early hour in the morning, when Venetia stole forth from the private door of Carlton Palace. She was enveloped in her ample cloak and the thick veil was drawn completely over her countenance, so that not even the most prying eye could discover the brilliant heroine of our tale through that deep disguise. Hurrying to the nearest hackney-coach stand, she entered a, vehicle and ordered the driver to proceed toward Knights- bridge. When within a short distance of Acacia Cottage, she stopped the coach and descended, performing the rest of the way on foot. Immediately upon reaching her home and tapping gently with her hand at the front door, it was opened by Horace; and passing in, she stole noiselessly up-stairs, followed by her husband. The moment they were together in their chamber, and Venetia had thrown aside her bonnet and cloak, she flung a rapid and anxious glance upon her husband, by the light of the candle which was burning upon the toilet-table. She saw that his countenance was very pale, but that he en- deavoured to subdue the emotion which he felt; and throwing herself into his arms, she gave vent to a violent fit of weeping. “For Heaven’s sake, tranquillize yourself, my dearest Venetia,’ murmured Horace, in a soothing tone, as he strained her to his breast. ‘* These sobs will be overheard; the domestics will soon be about in the house, and they will catch the sounds of your grief.” “But do you not now hate, loathe, and despise me? ”’ asked Venetia, suddenly wiping her eyes and gazing anxiously up into his countenance. “Do you not hate, loathe, and despise me for having permitted this?’ he inquired, with some degree of bitter- ness in his tone. “ But let us not enter again and again and again upon the discussion of a subject on which we have already talked so seriously and so often, and which indeed,” he added, ‘‘ has now proceeded too far to admit of recall.”’ “Yes, but has it left no regret behind, Horace?” asked Venetia. ‘Tn one sense, certainly,” he exclaimed. ‘“ But the neces- sity which has ruled us was almost as inexorable as destiny Gomicndooks (E(0)