The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 338: what you’re looking at

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

824 THE YOUNG DUCHESS; OR, MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. ing a gentleman seated weeping and sobbing upon the grass; but I could not do so. You may think my conduct bold “What! bold when it was so generous?” ex- claimed Walpole. ‘Why, in this strange world,” responded the young lady, ‘where the trammels of etiquette are so peculiar and the conventionalisms of society so preposterous and absurd, it sometimes needs no ordinary amount of courage to perform a generous action, and to prove that the natural feelings of the heart have not been, entirly warped by the _ artificialities and restraints to which I have alluded.” ““ True—most true!” cried Walpole, who was delighted, charmed, and amazed at the language which thus flowed from the lips of that beautiful creature. ‘'And now I feel that I more than ever owe you the explanations which I promised. Yes—it was indeed an excess of happiness that I experienced! To-day for the first time I have been introduced to the bosom of an amiable family,”—and he glanced over his shoulder to- wards Highbury House—“I have been greeted with unaffected fervour and cordial warmth: I have been welcomed by relations whom I never saw before! And thus my heart grew too full———” : Here he stopped: for again did his emotions swell up into his throat, and the tears started from his eyes. . ““'Weep on,” said the young lady, with a certain tremulousness in her tone: “never attempt to check prematurely or rudely the natural flow of the best feelings of our human nature! Heaven knows we have none ofus too many sources of such feeling ; and there is consequently oftentimes a luxury in tears.” “I thank you for these words so truthfully and so kindly spoken,” answered Walpole. ‘ Just now I was ashamed of myself forhaving been sur- prised by a stranger in the midst of those tears and sobs: but now I do not blush on that account, for I see that you do not despise me.’ “ Tar from it,” replied the young lady. ‘“ Your's’ was no unmanly grief! I think that of all characters, that of a coward is the most con- temptible: but I feel convinced that the truly brave and courageous individual can weep at times. Hard hearts have no magnanimity, and therefore no true courage. Bnt perhaps—but perhaps—you will now again begin to fancy that my conduct is bold and unlady-like to a degree in thus giving expression to my feelings ?” ‘‘ Feaven forbid!” exclaimed Walpole. ‘“ Ex- cuse me for saying that though I have not yet had the pleasure of being quite ten minutes in your company, I have seen more of a mind that I can admire 2 ‘Oh, but because I have stood here to converse with you for a few minutes, it was not to court flattery :"—and as the young lady smiled, her parting lips revealed two rows of brilliant teeth. “ Flattery ?—no!” exclaimed Walpole, with enthusiasm. ‘‘Purblind indeed should I be if I did not perceive that your’s is a mind which would consider mere flattery to be an insult and idle compliments the greatest offence that could be offered you.” ‘‘T am glad that you comprehend me thus far,” replied the young lady. ‘I have no undue curiosity—but I presume that from the information you have given me, you have never been in this part of the world before? Perhaps you come from abroad, and thus have only for the first time seen the relations who have received you so kindly ?” ““T have long dwelt at a great distance,” an~ swered the young man; “ and this is the first time that I was ever in this neighbourhood. Perhaps you are acquainted with my relations?” ‘‘T have not that pleasure,” was the response. “But I must now wish you good afternoon; for here is some one coming to seek me.” The young lady bowed with that modest affa- bility which had characterized her entire bearing towards Walpole; and then turning away, she was almost immediately joined by another lady, who was advancing through the orchard. This latter lady seemed to be about five-and-thirty years of age: her features were beautifully regular —but her face was pale, and its expression was pensive and melancholy. Her hair was of a dark brown: her eyes were hazel: her complexion was very pure and clear. She was dressed plainly, but with the elegant neatness which characterized the gentlewoman. She was of the medium stature; and the symmetry of her shape was slender and good. She had on neither bonnet nor shawl, but looked as if she had just stepped out of the adjacent house to take an airing in the grounds, or else to search after the young lady who had been talking to Walpole. When the two ladies met, as just described, the young man distinctly heard the elder of the two say to the younger, ‘‘ Who is that you have been speaking to ?” He could not catch the reply that was given ; but he saw the elder lady glance back at him for a moment—-and as he caught her look it startled him, he knew not why. There was~ nothing angry nor unpleasant in it: on the contrary, it seemed to be a glance of mere passing curiosity and interest which’ she thus flung upon him ; but there was something in that face which assuredly touched a particular chord in his memory or his heart and made it vibrate. He stood gazing after the two ladies until they were lost to his view amidst the trees of the orchard; and then he slowly retraced his steps towards the house, think- ing of the singular conversation he had held with the younger lady, and of the expression of the elder one’s countenance. Nothing of any consequence occurred during dinner—nor indeed for the remainder of the even- ing, which was passed pleasantly enough by Ed- ward Walpole; and we may describe it as the happiest in his life. He had more than once felt an inclination to inquire who occupied the pretty little villa-residence to which the orchard be- longed ; but with a bashfulness which was natu- ral on his part, he did not like to put a question which might seem to indicate curiosity, or which might bring up a flush to his cheeks as he thought of the scene with the young lady. He took leave of his relations at about ten o’clock—but not be- fore his aunt had exacted from him a promise that he would spend the ensuing day at Highbury House. On returning to his lodgings in Hanover Square, did Edward Walpole retire to rest ? No: —he sallied forth, and again he plunged amidst all the lowest scenes of debauchery and vice which L TA I a yf SUP FS oO SS COMO Colin