The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 334: what you’re looking at

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320 the awful perils to be thus incurred, it would make them wiser. But some there are—indeed many—who go with well-filled purses, and their forms bedizened with jewellery,—they go, I say, into those resorts of vice and profligacy, without reflecting that ‘by flashing their coin and by dis- playing their gold chains they are actually court- ing a violent death.” Mr. Seymour felt his nephew shudder as he was seated next to him; and if he had happened to glance at the young man at the instant, he would have seen that his face was deadly pale with an expression of direst horror upon it. | You shudder, Edward,” said the contractor; ‘‘and it .is enough to make you! But do not think, my dear boy, that I was saying those things on: your account, ' Heaven’ forbid! I know how unnecessary it is to give ‘you: such warnings. But let us turn the discourse.” . .. “Oh, yes, uncle—do!” said the young man eagerly. ‘I think you had some instructions to give me—some suggestions to offer in respect’ to the answers which I must return if questioned by-those relations to whom I am about to be pre- sented.” ; “Yes,” said the contractor, his tone and Jook becoming gloomy and mournful. “I am afraid that Iam going to give you a lesson-in an art with which you are as yet - little acquainted, iand which heaven forbid that you should ever. “prac- tise !” “ And that art, uncle?” : JM Dissimulation and duplicity. But.as an ex- pedient to serve a purpose for .once—indeed to spare my feelings, and to make me stand well: in the eyes of those with whom I would not: for worlds appear in a sinister light———” - “Do not say all this, uncle!” interrupted Ed- ward quickly. ‘You remember the assurances I gave you yesterday. Tell me what I am to do. —and it shall be done. Oh, believe me, I would make ‘any sacrifice of my own feelings !—yes, every sacrifice to save your's. from being pained !” “+ Excellent boy!” cried :Séymour. “You know not what a weight you lift from my mind by these assurances; but you are equally ignorant how much it afflicts me on the other hand to be compelled to ask you to deviate for a single mo- ment from the pathway of truth on my account!” A long pause ensued ere the discourse was re- sumed; and we must reserve additional details for a new chapter. : ———— CHAPTER LXI. TUE FAMILY AT JIGIIBURY. Epwarp WALro_e prepared to listen with the deepest attention to whatsoever instructions were about to issue from his uncle’s lips; and the latter, taking his hand, said, ‘ You must not think too badly of me, my dear boy, for the course I am now adopting.” ““Uncle!—dear uncle! you distress me infi- nitely by this repeated justification of yourself, after I have promised a placid obedience !” “JT will proceed without further preface,” said Mr. Seymour. ‘ You now know that you were left an orphan at your birth. Why did not I THE YOUNG DUCISS; OR, MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. take care of you? why did I abandon you? These are questions which some day must be an- swered—though I am not going to enter upon the explanations now. No, no—not now! But then my wife—imy children—all have been anxious to learn what had become of you for twenty long years !—the twenty years that have elapsed since your eyes first saw the light of this world! I have told them a certain tale—and it is now for you, my boy, to corroborate it! Otherwise you would render me detestable in the eyes of my wife, and suspicious in those of my sons and daughters !” “IT will assuredly corroborate the tale, uncle,” exclaimed Edward, ‘‘ whatever it be !” Seymour pressed his nephew's hand, and went on to say, “‘ Fortunately I had never denied your existence to any of my relations or friends—I never said that you had died On the contrary, I always-spoke of you as one who might some day turn up In aword, Edward, I represented that you were stolen in your infancy! Yes—I said that gipsies had stolen you——F pretended at the ‘time to make inquiries— wife knew well-——Ah! Edward, I was very wicked towards! you, ‘poor boy !_very. wicked !” The contractor was. now -sobbing violently : Edward Walpole flung his arms about his neck, and implored him to be pacified. “T must now tell yau the whole truth, my dear boy,” ‘continued Seymour, after a pause. ‘* Yes—it is useless any longer to delay it Perhaps you-have already conjectured from the partial avowals I have made ” “T have: conjectured nothing !” exclaimed the young man ‘vehemently: “I will- conjecture no- thing! Go on, uncle—and tell me only what I am to say if questioned by my aunt and cousins.” “You were stolen in your: infancy by sies i “Yes. What next, tincle ?” “Your earliest recollections were associated with the wandering life of that racé, until at the age of eight or nine some country clergyman, noticing you in his village, was struck by your complexion so different from the usual swarthiness of the gipsy—and. he was led to make inquiries. Well, the issue was that the gipsies, under the influence of terror, confessed that you were stolen, but.that they had obtained you from some other tribe, and thus they could furnish no farther par- ticulars. Do you follow me, Edward ?” ‘Completely, uncle. I will say all this. Go on-——and tell me the rest.” “The good clergyman——But we must give him a name; for this I have not yet done in the narration of the fictitious tale to my wife——We gip- ) will call him Bloomfield, if you will—l once knew an excellent minister of ‘that name——” ‘It shall be Bloomfield, uncle,” said the young man. ‘ Proceed.” “This Mr. Bloomfield Ah! and now we must fix a place; for, as you perceive, I have not been circumstantial in my story.” ‘* What place shall we say ?” inquired Edward. ‘‘ Remember, dear uncle, that I know little enough of England. I have never travelled anywhere— except—except A '* We will fix upon some place that I happen to know, but which is not by any means known to oO Connicloooks All this my <4 Colin