The Seamstress; or, The White Slave of England — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

SH THE SEAMSTRESS. silk,” she added, taking down one of the dresses and displaying it to Virginia’s admiring eyes: “ this was a present made to me only last Monday week. And here is alovely merino. But that is not all. Look here !” And opening a large band-box, Miss Barnet drew forth a velvet bonnet, a caehmere shawl, and a splendid fur tippet all of which articles she exhibited to the young seamstress who surveyed them with admiration, but without the slightest envy. For Virginia coveted not the elegancies nor the luxuries of life: her modest aspirations were limited to the attainment of the necessaries. “ Now do you not think that I must have a very good and kind friend to give me all these beautiful things ?”’ exclaimed Miss Barnet, in a tone of joyous triumph: then, without waiting for an answer, she said significantly, ‘ But you could be just as happy and comfortable, and independent as I am, if you liked.” A suspicion, vague and uncertain as the ringing of far-off bells in the ears, rose up in Virginia’s mind as that remark struck upon her understand- ing as a temptation;—and at the same instant she remembered the singular and mysterious manner in which the servant Jane had alluded to Miss Barnet. But still the young girl was not able to define even to herself the precise nature of the suspicion which had just been engendered in her soul;—and with a trembling of the whole frame, as if beneath the in- fluence of a panic-terror, she fixed her large blue eyes inquiringly upon her new friend. «“ What innocence!” ejaculated this young lady, her sensual-looking lips wreathing for the moment into a smile of contempt: but she instantaneously added, with her wonted good-humour, ‘ We will not talk any more upon that subject at present, my dear Virginia. Another time, perhaps, I may be more explicit. And now, as I have not a stitch of work to put in your hands at the moment, I will go and see what my friend Mrs. Robinson can do for us in that way.” Miss Mordaunt again expressed her thanks to her new acquaintance, and then retired, pensive and full of vague misgivings, to her own cold and cheer- less chamber. ee ee CHAPTER VIL. THE BALL. BETWEEN eight and nine o’clock in the evening a brilliant company began to assemble at Belmont House in Grosvenor Square. In rapid succession did the splendid equipages dash up to the front door of the palatial mansion—set down the elegantly- apparelled guests—and then shoot away, with their lamps shining like meteors, into the obscurity of the distance. From the open portals of the ducal dwelling streamed forth a flood of light, in the midst of which the numerous domestics in their gorgeous liveries resembled the variegated insects of the tropics flying and buzzing about in the beams of a refulgent sun. Through the spacious hall, with its pillars and its statues, its vasee, and its lamps, passed the numerous guests,—titled dames in glossy velvet, and beauteous damsels in rustling satin, escorted by nobles and gentlemen dressed for ee seeremeeesems trem it en i mm eee Ai tn a STA EE CO A EA ALOE LEE LOL ACL A AL LA LEA ALL LE TLL LEE AL AL ALE AO ee a1 the ball-room scene,—up the marble staircase whisk rose so grandly from the hall as if leading to the very palace of the sun itself,—across the spacious landing decorated with evergreens and hot-house flowers, —into the magnificent saloons where the light of the wax-tapers in the superb chandeliers of crystal was reflected in the vast mirrors which likewise multiplied the forms of elegance, and grace, and beauty already assembled there! Soft was the perfume filling the warm air that glowed with a living lustre whose flood received a roseate tint from the rich crimson drapery and the furniture ;—and through the gorgeous apartments sounded in loud and thrilling strains the music which the unrivalled band poured forth. It ap- peared as if the Genius of Harmony were speaking in tones of the grandest exultation ;—and every pulse beat the more quickly, and every heart throbbed the more joyously, and every eye flashed the more brightly, as those glorious notes swept along the chords of the sensations that seemed to vibrate to the profundities of the soul! By half-past nine o’clock upwards of eight hun- dred guests were assembied in the saloons of Belmont House; and amongst them might be observed all the various specimens of the world of aristocracy and fashion. There were dowagers with gorgeous turbans surmounting faces the wrinkles of which were concealed as much as art could possibly mitigate the appearances of old age: there were’ matrons whose air of elegant hauteur and gracious condescension derived a stateliness from the embon- point of middle-age ;—there were young wives who received with the easy listlessness of habit the complimentary nothings addressed to them by the gallants of the ball-room;—and there also were damsels whose happiness would be made or marred for the whole evening by the extent to which they were either courted or neglected. Here also were intriguing mothers each with their two or three marriageable daughters,—a few maiden aunts, very prim, very particular, and also very spiteful in criticising everything and everybody present,—and some dozen or so of widows, looking out for second husbands. Of the male sex the specimens were equally varied, though all of course belonging to what is termed “the highest circle.’ There were noblemen who would not have envied the lot of angels unless they could trace their genealogy back to some cut-throat Norman Baron who came over with the rufiian marauder William the Conqueror ;—and there were other great peers who rejoiced in the honour of being descended from the shameless strumpets who sold their charms to Charles II. Of these two classes of hereditary nobles, the latter were perhaps the most self-sufficient, arrogant, and prone to boast of their glorious ancestry. Then there was a consider- able sprinkling of the younger scions of the Aristo- cracy,—the sons, brothers, nephews, and cousins of peers; and as a general rule it might be observed that the dullest and the heaviest-looking, or else the vainest and most frivolous, were sure to be members of Parliament. Then, again, amidst the male guests might be distinguished a dozen Colonels in the Guards, very handsome, very dissipated, and very great favourites with the ladies,—a few naval officers the fastidious elegance of whose appearance seemed utterly unable to sustain a breeze off Gravesend, 0)(0)0) .S (C©@)