The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 298: what you’re looking at

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

~ A STRANGE SCENE 281 Lady Saxondale, as she thus spoke, fixed so strange and unfathomable a look upon the young artist that the trouble of his mind increased, he felt embarrassed and confused, a thousand strange ideas instantaneously flitted through his brain, but not one of them settled down there into shape or consistency. He threw a trembling and inquiring look upon Lady Saxondale, and saw that her countenance was flushed, that her eyes were shining with a strange lustre, that her lips were quivering, and that her majestic bust was swelling and falling with great and rapid heavings. Deveril grew almost frightened, and wished to Heaven that he were away from her presence and fairly out of the house, but he dared not, tor courtesy’s sake, quit her with abrupt- ness. ‘“ Mr. Deveril,’’ resumed Lady Saxondale, in a voice that was tremulously low and strangely deep, “if a lady of high rank, of patrician eminence, should suffer you to know that in spite of all conventionalisms, in spite, too, of all circumstances which ought to seal her lips on such a subject, — ay, and compel her to crush and stifle the feeling itself, — if such a lady, I ask, should suffer you to perceive that you are not indifferent to her, what course would you pur- sue?” Deveril was both astounded and alarmed by this singular speech. For an instant he fancied that Lady Saxondale herself was about to make an avowal of love, but instan- taneously discarding the idea as ridiculous, he was struck with the conviction that she had somehow or another dis- covered what had taken place during the few past hours be- tween himself and Florina, and that she was thus delicately and hesitatingly opening the matter to him, so as to remind him of his duty and not deprive her son Lord Saxondale of the maiden whom family arrangements had settled to be- come the young noble’s bride. ‘You look astonished, even dismayed, at the words I “have just spoken,’’ resumed Lady Saxondale, with every indication of a heightened emotion, so that her splendid form quivered all over, the colour deepened upon her cheeks, her eyes shot forth stranger fires, her bosom heaved and sank with quicker undulations. ‘‘ But do not be afraid to speak to me candidly on this subject. Let all differences of rank disappear between us.”’ COnnNIELOOKS (C(O)