The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 341: what you’re looking at

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

THE YOUNG DUCHESS; OR, MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. aa 327 i sently in some orgie or merry-making of a licen- tious description? Good God! if that beautiful girl be of such a character! And now that I bethink me, that boldness of language on her part —those masculine and philosophic ideas so auda- ciously enunciated. f But here his musings were suddenly cut short by the reappearance of Lady Amesbury, who came gliding amidst the trees of the garden to- wards the spot where she had left the young man in the shrubbery. “Tt is all right!” she whispered: “ the coast is: clear—and I can introduce you without attracting the slightest observation.” “But one word, madam “Not a word! not a syllable! Come. Hush!” she said, in a low and seemingly frightened tone : ‘what noise was that ?” “Nothing but the rustling of the leaves,” answered Walpole. ‘I beseech your ladyship to tell me——” ‘Know you not the old adage?” asked his mysterious guide, with one of those peculiar smiles the significancy of which he could not fathom. ‘‘There are many adages, madam,” responded the youth: “but to which particular one you allude——” “Oh, you will soon see!” she interrupted him. “Come! Not another word !” She again led the way: Edward Walpole fol- lowed in bewilderment of mind—but still with a resolve to see the end of the adventure, whatever it might be. The garden was threaded—the silence was not again interrupted by the tambou- rine, laughter, or castanets—and in afew moments Lady Amesbury stopped at a glass door opening from the side of the villa upon a lawn ornamented with statues and vases. She led the way into a passage communicating with the principal hall, and lighted by a handsome gas-lamp which threw its rays from the middle of that hall into the cor- ridor. “Tt is here that you are to enter,” whispered Lady Amesbury, as she stopped at a door, that was midway up that passage. ‘‘And now,” she added, with another of her peculiar smiles, ‘‘ you will learn to appreciate the truth of the adage that ‘ Faint heart never won fair lady.’”’ 3 With these words Lady Amesbury gently opened. the door and pushed Edward Walpole across the. threshold. At the same moment the door closed behind him; and he found himself in a little cabinet, ten or a dozen feet square, and which’ seemed to contain, as he flung a quick glance around, an infinite variety of curiosities and ob- jects of vertu. An inner door stood partly open ; and it was through this medium that the beams of light penetrated into the cabinet. Edward Wal- pole passed on—looked through the half-open door —and beheld a large and handsomely furnished room, the casement of which was open; and in the recess where it stood there were arrays of the. choicest and loveliest flowers upon green-painted stands. The apartment was lighted by a chande- lier suspended to the ceiling: the atmosphere was warm and perfumed, but by no means sickly nor oppressive, for it softly blended with the fresh air that penetrated through the open casemert. And upon an ottoman, or rather luxurious divan, lay a lovely form—a lady in her evening toilet, who anal had evidently thrown herself there in that species of abandonment which anticipated no intrusion. She was gently fanning herself: near her lay a tambourine —in one of her hands she held 4 pair of castanets; and thus Edward Walpole instan- taneously became aware that it was she who had been diverting herself, and that it was through that open casement the sounds of music and laugh- ter were wafted to his ears when he was concealed in the shrubbery. He did not instantaneously catch a view of the fair one’s face on account of the fan which she held in an intervening position : but the moment his eyes did obtain a glimpse of those features, his heart leapt as with the joy of a suspense that was relieved or a hope that was ful- filled; for it was indeed none other than the beau- teous creature whose acquaintance he had formed on the preceding day ! And at the same moment, too, she caught sight of him; and in the twinkling of an eye she sprang up to her feet. Her countenance crimsoned —her eyes flashed—her very form seemed to di- late with indignation, as she demanded, ‘“‘ What means this intrusion, sir ?” ““T take heaven to witness I am innocent of any wilful rudeness!” replied Walpole, who was for an instant startled and completely taken aback by this extraordinary and most unlooked-for recep- tion. ‘Explain yourself, sir,” said the young lady, evidently becoming milder, if not altogether ap- peased. ; ‘Nay, this is scarcely possible,” answered Wal- pole; “and perhaps I had better refer you to Lady Amesbury.” “Ah! she has done this? Yes—who else could ?” The young lady ejaculated these words in a subdued tone, and more as if she were musing to herself than addressing Walpole in a direct man- ner. “Yes,” she now pursued, as she again fixed her eyes upon him; “I see that it could only have been as you just now intimated. You are there- fore acquitted of any intentional rudeness_——” “‘T should be incapable of wilfully offending one who displayed so much sympathy towards mse, and in whom I must candidly confess that I experience an unusual degree of interest a ‘““You know,” interrupted the young lady, “ that I dislike whatsoever savours of flattery or com- pliment :"—but though she spoke with an air of rebuke, she was nevertheless entirely good- tempered ; all her indignation had vanished, and there was a partial smile upon her beautifully- formed lips. . ‘* By heaven !’’ exclaimed Walpole, whose natu- ral bashfulness fled before the rapturous and en- chanting impressions made upon him by the dazzling loveliness of the fair stranger, whose charms were displayed to the fullest advantage by the evening dress which she wore, —“ by heaven ! I am incapable of falsehood or hypocrisy in anything that I may say to you! To flatter ‘you would be impossible !—to compliment you ‘beyond your deserts, would also be something ro that no language could achieve!” ~- The young lady smiled for a moment—but it was as if in a sort of good-natured mockery of Walpole’s enthusiasm, and likewise as if she con- siderately tolerated this style of language which oO COMIGIOO Colin