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The moment the door was thrown open, he perceived by the light of the fire which burned in the front apartment, that the inner one was a small and comfortably fitted-up bed-chamber. It was involved in a more than semi-obscurity; but not to such an extent as to conceal from Reginald Tracy's penetrating glance the semblance of a female form standing upon a low pedestal in the most remote corner of the room.

"I am not then deceived!" he exclaimed aloud, as he advanced nearer towards the statue.

By this time his eyes had become accustomed to the obscurity of the chamber, into which the glimmer of the fire threw a faint but mellowed light. Still, in somewhat bold relief, against the dark wall, stood the object of his interest,—seeming a beautiful model of a female form, the colouring of which was that of life. It was naked to the middle; the arms were gracefully rounded; and one hand sustained the falling drapery which, being also coloured, produced upon the mind of the beholder the effect of real garments.

Lost in wonder at the success with which the sculptor had performed his work,—and experiencing feelings of a soft and voluptuous nature,—Reginald drew closer to the statue. At that moment the light of the fire played upon its countenance; and it seemed to him as if the lips moved with a faint smile. Then, how was his surprise increased, when the conviction flashed to his mind that the face he was gazing upon was well known to him!

"O Cecilia, Cecilia!" he ejaculated aloud: "hast thou sent thy statue hither to compel me to fall at its feet and worship the senseless stone, while thou—the sweet original—art elsewhere, speculating perhaps upon the emotions which this phantasmagorian sport was calculated to conjure up within me! Ah! Cecilia, if thou wast resolved to subdue me once more—if thou couldst not rest until I became thy slave again,—oh! why not have invited me to meet thine own sweet self, instead of this speechless, motionless, passionless image,—a counterpart of thee only in external loveliness! Yes—there it is perfect:—the hair—the brow—the eyes—the mouth—— Heavens! those lips seem to smile once more; those eyes sparkle with real fire! Cecilia—Cecilia—"

And Reginald Tracy was afraid—he scarcely knew wherefore: the entire adventure of the evening appeared to be a dream.

"Yes—yes!" he suddenly exclaimed, after having steadfastly contemplated the form before him for some moments,—standing at a distance of only three or four paces,—afraid to advance nearer, unwilling to retreat altogether,—"yes!" he exclaimed, "there is something more than mere senseless marble here! The eyes shoot fire—the lips smile—the bosom heaves—— Oh! Cecilia—Cecilia, it is yourself!"

As he spoke he rushed forward: the statue burst from chill marble into warmth and life;—it was indeed the beauteous but wily Cecilia—who returned his embrace and hung around his neck;—and the rector was again subdued—again enslaved! [Chapter 131, “The Statue,” 1.395]

Commentary

Yet another of Stiff’s illustrations of nude and semi-nude women, this one depicts the moment when the handsome, fashionable, once-celibate Anglican minister is seduced once again by his lover just as he has become increasingly attracted to another, far more innocent woman. Stiff’s illustrations, like Reynolds’s extensive presentation of taboo sexual topics, made The Mysteries of London seem little more than pornography to many critics (and other novelists) but immensely popular, too. I don't know another Victorian illustrator of fiction set in modern times who includes either so many semi-clothed women or a couple kissing passionately.

Bibliography

Reynolds, George W. M. The Mysteries of London. vol 1. London: George Vickers, 1846. Hathi Trust Digital Library. Web. 6 October 2016.

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Last modified 6 October 2016