The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 301: what you’re looking at

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

284 REYNOLDS’ WORKS heart, fancied that he was overwhelmed by his good fortune in being beloved by a lady of her rank and wealth. “ Yes. William, dearest William,” she said, in the tenderest tone, and fixing upon him looks brimful of passion, “‘ I love you, I have loved you for some time, and I could conceal it no longer. You know that the world regards me as a woman whose very pride 1s a guarantee for her virtue, and solemnly, sacredly do I assure you that never before have I stooped from the loftiness of my pedestal to tell any human being that I loved him. But rest assured that I have struggled - long to stifle the feeling which thus urges me toward you, and the struggle has been a painful one. I can now struggle no longer; it is a severer conflict than even my proud nature can endure or my strong will carry on. I bow, I yield, I, who never bent or succumbed before. Yes, I bow, I yield, to the influence of love, and you, William Deveril, are the object thereof.” She had gone on speaking thus because the young artist was so paralyzed by the state of his feelings as to be unable to interrupt, much less stop her. Even though her words sounded in his ears, conveying sense and meaning to his comprehension, he could scarcely put faith in what he thus heard; and although he beheld before him that woman of a grand and magnificent beauty descending from the pedestal of her patrician pride, throwing off the Juno-like stateliness of her demeanour, and melting into all the winning graces and sensuous fascinations of Venus herself, yet still he could scarcely believe in the reality of the spectacle which he thus beheld. So he stood near the chair from which he had risen, with eyes fixed wonderingly upon her countenance, with lips apart, the very effigy of astonishment and doubt. ‘ William, what means this singularity of manner on your part?’ asked Lady Saxondale, her accents now tremulous with anxiety and misgiving. “ Are you not pleased with this avowal of love which I have so frankly made? But do not mistake me. It is not as a husband that I seek you, it is not as a wife that I offer myself. No, no, the world must not know our love. And therefore it is as a mistress that I abandon myself to you. Yes, this tre- mendous sacrifice of honour and virtue and all that a woman should hold most dear do I make for the maddening passion that I experience for you. Oh, William, do you refuse such CONNIE OO KS (E(0)