The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 389: what you’re looking at

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THE YOUNG DUCHESS; OR, MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. On LL LF 375 with a sister. Thus a couple of hours passed; and when it was about four in the afternoon, Pamela began to wonder why her father had not sent for her to take the usual airing in the carriage before dinner. She descended to the library, where he was accustomed to pass the greater portion of his time when at home; and as she entered, she beheld him in his chair appa- rently fast asleep, but in an attitude which at once struck her as being a most uncomfortable one She hastened forward to arouse him— but she suddenly stopped short in dread horror, for the expression of his countenance was ghastly and death-like. Then she mustered up courage to approach nearer ; and in another moment a rend- ing cry burst from her lips as she became fully sensible of the fearful truth that her father was a corpse ! CHAPTER LXXI. SYLVESTER AND THE PEER. AccorDING to the intimation which Azaline had given to Edward Walpole, she returned home to Berkeley Square in the afternoon of the same day of which we have been writing. As she descended from Lady Amesbury's carriage, which bore her thither, she became aware of the fact that she was at the moment serving as the focus of attraction for a quizzing-glass which was stuck in the eye of a young man who was approaching from a little distance. He was plain and com- mon-looking : his hair was of that unmistakable red which the license of no poesy can soften down into auburn, and which the imagination of no romancist could tinge with a golden hue. He was dressed in black; and the crape round his hat showed that he was in mourning: but his villanously vulgar taste was displayed in the quantities of jewellery which he wore about his person, despite the sombre shade of his garments. Azaline at once averted her eyes in mingled dis- gust and contempt from the ill-bred personage who was thus impertinently scanning her with his glass: but to her surprise he immediately joined her on the steps of the front entrance of Trentham House. “Beg pardon, Miss,” he said, with an air that was half familiar, and yet half subdued, or even daunted by the high-bred elegance and dignity of Azaline’s appearance ; “ but I know you, though perhaps you don’t know me. My name’s Casey —t’other day Mr. Casey Junior—but now Mr. Casey Senior, at your service.” Azaline considered it politic and prudent to show an affable demeanour towards an individual who might have it in his power to exercise no . small influence over her father’s pecuniary posi- tion ; she at once smiled graciously, saying, ‘‘I had not the pleasure of knowing you personally until now, Mr. Casey :”—then assuming a sudden seriousness of countenance, she added in a suitable tone, ‘* Permit me to offer my sympathy on ac- count of the loss you have sustained.” “¢ Thank’ee, Misa,” responded Sylvester. ‘ Of course a loss is a loss—though it’s more or less felt according to circumstances. The governor was ailing in health and deuced queer in teraper ; so, barring the way in which he was knocked off the hooks, one may say, ’twixt you and me and the post, Miss Osborne, that it was a happy re- lease.” It was to Azaline’s infinite relief that the front door was opened at this moment ; for otherwise she could scarcely have repressed a manifestation of disgust at the low, vulgar, flippant heartless- ness thus evinced by the young man in allusion to his murdered sire. “T presume, Mr. Casey,” she said, “ that you were about to call upon my father ?” ““ Why, yes, Miss,” answered Sylvester, who was now fixing his eyes devouringly upon the beau- tiful countenance which was once more turned towards him. ‘Me and your governor have got some little matters to talk about; and if so be his lordship’s at home Y “‘ His lordship is at home, sir,” interposed the domestic who had just opened the street door, and who perceived at a glance how unwelcome Syl- vester’s insolent look and vulgar speech were to Miss Osborne. “That’s just the ticket, then,” said Sylvester. ‘“‘T don’t think his lordship knows me by sight: therefore just take my card, old fellow, and an- nounce me in proper style. It isn’t a black-edged one, because I haven’t had time to get them printed yet.” The lacquey, who had drawn himself up to the full of his six feet two inches of height on being adjured as an old fellow, received the card with as much dignity as if Sylvester himself were the menial; and simply saying, ‘‘ This way,” without the complimentary adjunct of ‘‘Sir,” he led Syl- vester into an apartment where Lord Trentham was engaged in reading the newspapers. But the young man did not enter that room before he had flung a parting look over his shoulder at Azaline, as she moved gracefully across the hall towards the principal staircase. “Mr. Sylvester Casey,” cried the domestic, thus announcing the visitor; and as the powdered lacquey then quitted the apartment, an expression of unspeakable disgust and disdain appeared upon his countenance, which indeed was all screwed up as if some very disagreeable odour were assailing his nostrils. “Sit down, Mr. Casey,” said Lord Trentham, unbending as much as he possibly could from the height of his aristocratic dignity, and forcing him- self to assume a friendly and affable demeancur, for the same reasons which had ere now influenced his daughter in pursuing the same course. ‘‘ Be- lieve me, Mr. Casey, that whatsoever little diffe- rences may have taken place between your late father and myself, I was much shocked when in yesterday’s newspapers I read the horrid account of what had taken place on the preceding night.” “Well, my lord,” answered Sylvester, running his hand through his fiery red hair, “it was a horrid business, you know—but it’s a satisfaction to think that the rascals are in limbo—— least- ways one of them; for to’ther is laying in such a dangerous state at the hospital that I’m blowed if I think he'll ever get up no more—which will be a sad loss to the hangman.” “T hope, Mr. Casey,” said the nobleman, “that your mother and sister bear up with fortitude against their bereavement ?” ‘“‘Pretty well, my lord—pretty well, for that COMO YN Wn) Colin