The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 358: what you’re looking at

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

THE LADY’S - MAID 341 this outburst of emotion? Is it something so very serious, or so very terrible? ”’ “Ah! it would be alike serious and terrible if true,” responded the young lady, now suddenly raising her eyes and gazing with a mixture of inquiring earnestness and reviv- ing confidence in her lover’s countenance. “ But no, it is im- possibile, it cannot be true. You would not deceive me thus.” ‘“ Constance, what mean you, what mean you? ”’ exclaimed the marquis, paintully excited. ‘ Do not hesitate to speak. There must be no reserve between us — ’”’ “No, there must not be — | feel that there must not be,” interrupted the young lady. ‘‘ Some months have elapsed since first from my mother’s lips dropped the statement which now weighs upon my mind, and for the reasons I have already explained I would not mention it to you. But this day I have had a serious conversation with my sister, and I have been led more than ever to feel the importance of re- moving every doubt and dissipating every suspicion, — the more so since you yourself, Etienne, began the conversation ere now by the assurance that a favourable turn in your circumstances would soon enable you to conduct me to the altar. Therefore, now, on this present occasion, must we converse frankly.”’ “It is what I wish, Constance. I have already told you so,’ said the marquis, with some degree of vehemence, “ and I can assure you, my sweet girl, that you are torturing me most acutely by this delay in telling me everything. Say what it is that hangs like a doubt upon your mind, and to which you are so reluctant to give utterance.”’ ‘““ Htienne,’’ responded Constance, raising her beautiful blue eyes and fixing them earnestly upon her lover, ‘‘ I am told that you have already been married, and that although separated trom your wife, she is still alive.” If a thunderbolt had fallen at the feet of the Marquis of Villebelle, he could not have been more dismayed. It was a periect consternation that seized upon him; he turned pale as death, the arm that was engirdling Constance fell as if palsied from her waist, and he gazed upon her in vacant bewilderment. “O God!” cried the unhappy young lady, “it is true, it is too true!’’ and covering her face with her hands, she burst into a passionate flood of weeping. CONnNIECOOOKS (S(O)