The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 269: what you’re looking at

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

238 THE COURT OF LONDON which Meagles had just spoken, and which contrasted so remarkably with the low deepness of voice that he had previously adopted, struck Rose Foster with surprise, and she gazed upon him with a half-frightened, half-deprecating look. ‘“Do you not understand me, Rose? Do you not com- prehend all I would say to you, if I could find language wherein to clothe my feelings? ’’ exclaimed Meagles, now . for the first time in his life finding himself embarrassed for words to express his thoughts. “ You experience a friendship for me, do you not? ”’ ‘Oh, most assuredly — most assuredly! ”’ cried the grate- ful girl. ‘I look upon you as a benefactor, a kind friend, a brother I might almost say — ”’ ‘‘ Well, a brother, then,” interrupted Meagles, feeling as if he could go down upon his knees and worship that pure and innocent girl who thus proffered him as it were her sis- terly affection. ‘‘ But tell me, Rose, tell me,’’ he said, with strange abruptness, ‘“‘ have you as yet encountered any one whom you love better than a brother? ”’ The maiden became scarlet, and yet she was not altogether anery. But she was suddenly overwhelmed with shame and confusion; yes, and she now comprehended the fact that Meagles loved her, and that he was floundering in his awk- ward endeavours to make her aware of his passion. For a moment she had felt vexed and annoyed at the query which he put to her; but on a second thought she remembered all his chivalrous kindness toward her and all he had suffered so uncomplainingly on her account, and her anger, dissolving like snow, was succeeded by a profound sorrow at the fact that she was loved by one who possessed such large claims on her gratitude, but whom she could not possibly love in return. | ‘Ah! that telltale blush,” exclaimed Meagles, starting from his chair and speaking in a tone of vexation. ‘“ Catch a young girl who is not in love,” he muttered to himself. Then, instantaneously feeling how ungenerous it was on his part thus to give vent to any sentiment of annoyance toward the pure-minded artless girl, he caught ber by the hand, exclaiming, ‘“‘ God bless you, Rose, God bless you! Not for worlds — no, not for worlds — would I say or do aught to give you pain. Poor girl! you have already seen and known CORNICE IOOLKKS (E(0)