[Diana Arlington and the Earl of Warrington] — illustration for G. W. M. Reynolds’s “The Mysteries of London” by G. Stiff

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Diana Arlington and the Earl of Warrington

G. Stiff

1846

Wood engraving

Source: The Project Gutenberg version of G. W. M. Reynolds’s The Mysteries of London

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Passage illustrated

In this scene, which could come straight from a twentieth-century bodice-ripper or paperback romance novel, the Earl proposes marriage to his mistress despite the fact that smallpox might have destroyed her beauty. What makes this episode so atypically Victorian is that this fallen woman (which is what almost all nineteenth-century novelists would have called her), marries, lives happily ever after, and becomes an agent for good.

In a sumptuously furnished room at the house of Mr. Wentworth, the surgeon of Lower Holloway, Diana Arlington was reclining upon a sofa. She was dressed in an elegant manner; but a large black lace veil, doubled so as to render it more impervious to the eye of a beholder, was thrown over her head. The folds were also so arranged that the elaborately worked border completely concealed her countenance. . . .

"Diana—dearest Diana!" exclaimed the nobleman, starting back when he beheld her countenance covered with that ominous dark veil: "is it indeed thus——"

"Thus that we meet after so long an absence?" added the Enchantress. "Yes, my lord: Mr. Wentworth must have told you as much."

"No, Diana," answered the Earl, seating himself upon the sofa by her side, and taking her hand: "you know not by what a strange idiosyncrasy my conduct has been influenced. I entrusted you to Mr. Wentworth's care: I enjoined him to spare no money that might procure the best advice—the most efficient means of cure. Then I resigned myself to a suspense from which I might at any moment have relieved my mind by an inquiry;—but at the bottom of that suspense was a fond, a burning hope which made the feeling tolerable—nay, even vested the excitement with a peculiar charm of its own. I took it for granted that you would be cured—that your countenance would be restored to that beauty which had originally attracted me towards you;—and now, may I not say—without detriment to my own firm character as a man, and without indelicacy towards your feelings,—may I not say that I am disappointed?"

"And is this my fault?" asked Diana, in a soft plaintive tone. "Does your lordship suppose that I have not also suffered—that I do not at present suffer?" "Oh! yes—you have—you do," answered the nobleman, pressing her hand with warm affection. "When we were happy in each other's society, Diana," he continued, "I never spoke to you of love: indeed, I experienced for you nothing more than a fervent friendship and profound admiration. But since I have ceased to see you—during the interval of our separation—I found that you were necessary to me,—that I could not be altogether happy without you,—that your conversation had charms which delighted me,—and that your attachment was something on which I could ponder with infinite pleasure. My feelings have warmed towards you; and I—I, the Earl of Warrington—experience for you a feeling which, if not so romantic and enthusiastic as my first affection, is not the less honourable and sincere." [Volume 2, Chapter 170. “The Black Veil.”

Bibliography

Reynolds, George W. M. The Mysteries of London. vol 2. London: George Vickers, 1846. Project Gutenberg EBook #51294. Produced by Richard Tonsing, Chuck Greif, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. Web. 3 October 2016.

Last modified 3 October 2016