The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 35: 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. doned that hand to her. Again and again she pressed it to her lips: and she covered it with her tears. There was a footstool close by the sofa: she sat down upon it—and still she retained his hand in her own,—no longer pressing it to her lips—no longer weeping—but remaining perfectly still, in a sort of confused luxury of thought. For at length she was with him !—at length she had heard his voice—and it was full of masculine har- mony !—and despite all the mystery which en- veloped the entire proceeding, she had been in- formed by his parents that he was to be her hus- band, and assured by himself that he would be everything that he ought towards her ! P And Launcelot was also silent ;—and it might seem as if he were unconscious of her presence, although his hand was still clasped between both her own. At length, as Imogen’s mind was slowly recovering from its-luxurious confusion and bliss- ful ebriety, she began to ask herself a few ques- tions. Why was the conduct of Launcelot so sin- gular ? was it not he himself who had brought about the events which were now progressing 7?— aud must he not have besought his parents to con- sent to his union with Imogen? Was it that he had taken this step in a moment of ungovernable infatuation, and that the instant the very point was gained, he had been stricken with remorse and regret ? Again did the necessity of entering upon certain explanations recur to Imogen; and already were the prefatory words wavering upon her lips, when Launcelot himself broke the silence of many minutes which had been prevailing. “On the eve of that solemn union in which our hands are to be joined—on such an occasion as the present—and considering all circumstances, I feel that it is incumbent upon me to tell you the whole truth which regards myself. I am now your affianced—and in a few days I shall become your husband! You have a right to fathom the secrets of my soul to a certain extent : but I will of my own accord annihilate the limit altogether and lay bare to you as it were the mysteries of my heart. “You will then comprehend wherefore I was so overcome by emotion ere now ; and you will have no ground hereafter to reproach me with hypocrisy or duplicity towards you. No: forI would have you read down to the very profundities of my soul, as if you were plunging your regards ‘into the depths of a stream pellucid to the very bottom !”_ ; Launcelot paused ; and such a profound silence then prevailed through the room that a pin might have been heard to drop. Imogen had drunk in, in a species of half-raptured, half-bewildered sus- pense, the language which flowed upon that soft harmonious voice :—she had hung upon the words as it were upon an isolated and beauteous voice rising from the midst of a choir and beneath the vast arched roof of a cathedral. What was to follow ?—what secrets were now to be revealed to her ?——what mysteries could be treasured up in the sanctuary of that young man’s heart ? ““Tt was not until some few months ago,” he resumed, ‘that I knew what love was. Having read much, I had necessarily encountered an in- finite variety of descriptions of that sentiment. I saw how one depicted it as a fierce consuming pas- sion—a fire devouring the heart that cherished it. I saw how another painted it as a soft esthetic feeling, bathing the soul in a continuous fount of 21 bliss, and making a paradise of the earth. Then I read how another spoke of love as a frenzy—a passion that was akin to madness—painful like hunger or thirst—tortured by jealousies, suspi- | cions, and misgivings,—ever fancying that its own love was not reciprocated enough, and experienc- [| ing periods of anguish in which it verged to the ‘extreme bordering upon hatred. I read of the love which would lay down its life for the loved one ; and I read likewise of a love which could kill the object of its flame rather than suffer that object to be beloved by any other! On the one side I beheld some who could find no language comprehensive enough to depict the happiness of love: while on the other. hand there were bards who could not aggregate a sufficiency of bitter words to depict its misery. Here were those who recorded their rapturous eulogies on rose-tinted paper, with ink of gold, and with a pen plucked from the gay plumage of some bright tropical bird: while on the other hand there were those who chronicled love’s miseries with an iron pen dipped in gall. Thus was I bewildered what to think of the sentiment of love, and my imagina- | tion possessed not a creative magic sufficiently powerful to enable me to solve the mystery.” Again did Launcelot pause; and again did a deep silence prevail throughout the apartment; for Imogen, after listening with a deep rapturous ab- sorbing interest to the words that flowed from his lips, was now lost in wonder at the nature as well as the object of such a preface. “At length,” pursued Launcelot, ‘ all my doubts were cleared up, and I comprehended what love was. Chance threw in my way a being on whom I had no sooner settled my looks when a secret voice appeared to whisper in my soul that she would exercise the greatest influence over my destinies ! I knew not whether it was a sweet presentiment ora solemn warning. I longed to speak to her ; but I was afraid. Oh, that beautiful face! it was instantaneously imprinted on my heart! By an accident—a book which was dropped and which I picked up—I learnt her name. Surprise seized upon me. I had heard of her before—and this was the first time I had ever seen her. She was an equestrian actress at a theatre !” Imogen had still retained Launcelot’s hand in her own; and as he went on speaking she pressed that hand closer and closer to her lips, and then to her bosom. ‘There was rapture in her soul: yet why should Lawncelot tell her this tale the particulars of which she already knew so well? ‘From the moment of that -meeting,” he pro- ceeded, “my life became as it were a dream. It appeared to be as if I lived only for that bright and beautiful creature who had stolen my heart away inamoment. I beheld her at the theatre —I saw her with her fantastic garb in the circus ' —and I loved her all the more, for methought that she was one who could embellish and adorn every apparel, no matter of what species! I en- countered her in the streets and in the parks: she was then dressed in the ordinary costume of her sex; and again was she all elegance and grace. Yet I never once spoke to her; for singular as it may seem, every time that we met that secret voice whispered in my soul, and still was I ignorant whether it was a sweet presentiment or a solemn warning !” s COMO oO Colin