The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 101: what you’re looking at

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

THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. plumpness ; though at the same time the most punctilious oritic of female beauty would not have pronounced her too stout. She possessed magnifi- cent dark dair—a pair of fine bright eyes, with nobly arching brows—and a beautitul set of teeth. Thus, altogether, Emily Archer—or Emile D’Alem- bert, which was her theatrical peseudonym—was a very handsome and attractive young woman. At the moment when we thus particularly notice her amidst the throng in the Concert Room on the night in question, she was looking somewhat angry ; inasmuch as young Lord Saxondale, who had pro- misod to sce her there that evening, had not as yet made his appearance. Several other gay gallante had accosted Miss Archer: but she gave them no encouragement to continue discoursing with her. The fact was, she was mightily pleased with her new | conquest—knowing him to be the heir to immense estates on attaining his majority; and therefore she was too anxious to retain him in the silken chains of her fascination to risk losing him by a flirtation with other aspirants. Thus, if Mise Archer re- mained faithful to Lord Sexondale-—and meant to do so, as long as it suited her convenience—it was through no love of him, but because her self-interest was crati Suddenly her countenance brightened up, as she beheld the young nobleman enter the Concert Hoom; and nodding familiarly to three or four fashionable acquaintances whom he he passed amidst the throng and speedily joined Miss Emily Archer. “‘ How late you are to-night !” she said, affecting to pout her lips as she gave him ber hand. “I thought you were not coming.” “ My dear girl,” cy was dining with my friend Lord Harold Staunton and @ number of other men, and after dinner we had cards—so that really the time slipped away without my noticing it. But when I did see how late it was, I hurried off at once—and here I am. Now pray be eo kind as to look as pleasant as you can.” “I will, since you have made an apology,” an- swered Emily, who could jhdge pretty well from his manner that he had found the means of comply- ing with a certain roquest she had made in the morning. y) “There now! you look quite radiant,” said the infatuated Edmund. ‘But mind,” she immediately rejoined, in a low whisper and with an arch smile, “that you do not fail in love with Angela Vivaldi again to-night; for you were desperately enamoured of her before you knew me. Indeed, you told me so.” “My dear Emily, it only required to know you in order to put the Signora Vivaldi altogether out of my head. Besides,” added Saxondale, in a very sow and mysterious whisper, “my friend Lord Harold Staunton——you know him ?” “'Yes—I think I do,” replied Miss Emily, ap- pearing to reflect for a few moments: though, in good truth, it was very far from necessary—for she was full well acquainted with that nobleman, as of course he was with her. “Well, what about him ?” “Oh! he intends to pay his court to Angela,” “She is a prude—a veritable prude,” observed Emily Archer: “ but the stillest water is sometimes that which runs ‘the deepest. And now tell me, . my dear Edmund, have you thought of the little commission I gave you this morning, when you se kindly insisted upon doing something as a prouf of your affection ?” “YT have it here,” he responded, significantly tap- ping his waistcoat-pocket. “Ah! I dare say you thought I had gone and loat it all at cards to- night: but you see you are mistaken.” “Then I suppose you called upon old Musters, as I told you?” observed Emily. “'Yes—to be sure: or else how could I have ob- tained the money? As for getting such a sum in addition to my allowance from old Lord Petersfield or those scurvy fellows Marlow and Malton, it was out of the question—particularly as that blessed mother of mine has been making mischief between me and my guardians. Would you believe it ? they want me to go abroad as Unpaid Attaché to an Embassy; or else to go and bury myself down in that dreadful old castle in Lincolnshire.” “But you will not, though?” said Miss Areher, somewhat alarmed lest the young nobleman should be suddenly removed from beyond the sphere of her influence. “Don’t be afraid, my dear Emily,” responded Saxondale: “I am not quite such a fool. Besides, since you have given me this introduction to the old moncy-lender, and he is so excee.lingly com- plaisant, I shall feel myself perfectly independent of my iang and my mother. I got a couple of thousands from old Musters this morning; and here is the thousand,” he added again tappiug hus waistoost-pocket, “that you require. But shall I give it to you now?” “No—you are coming home with me presently, I hope,” answered Miss Emily, with her most be- witching smile. “I ordered supper to be in read ness, and champagne to be put in ice. Besides, { have got my new carriage——" “Ah! is it come home?” asked Saxondala. “The coach-builder promised me it should be as Evergreen Villa by noon to-day.” “ And he kept his word, my dear Edmund.” * And the two cream-ooloured horses, with their splendid new harness ?” “They also were sent down this morning. Oh! I am so glad to have got rid of that sober-looking brougham, which was all that Mr. Walter would allow me. And by the bye,” added Emily, “ the coachman has got his new livery; so that the equi- page altogether is quite charming. And now that I think of it, my dear Edmund, I have to thank you for the case of champagne which came down to the villa last night, and the new service of plate from the silveramith’s in Bond Street.” We will not however prolong our details of this conversation. Enough has been already recorded to show that the shrewd and cunning ballet-dancer had suceceded in enmeshing the foolish young aristocratic pigeon in her toils, and that ahe intended to pluck him most unmercifully so long as this infatuation on his part should continue. But turn we now to another part of that Concert Room ; and there, in the remotest corner—retiring bashfully from the gase whieh the lounging gal- lants insolently flung upon her as they —was a young creature of about sixteen, and whose beauty was rather of the pensive and interesting character than of the striking or dassling description. In- deed, at first sight, there was nothing particularly CONNEC MOO SS COMM