The Seamstress; or, The White Slave of England — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

_ THE SEAMSTRESS. 23 fond of betting at races, steeple-chases, and billiard- tables, and therefore in the right path to become a confirmed gamester,—already flushed with his suc- cesses amongst the fair sex, and indeed keeping a mistress, and therefore in a direet road to become a confirmed voluptuary. Lady Clarissa Meleombe, the Duke’s elder daughter, was nineteen years of age: her sister, Lady Mary, was seventeen. The former was hand- some—proud—and reserved: the latter was beauti- ful—affable—and ingenuous. Lady Clarissa in- herited ‘all the family ambition, hauteur, and pecuniary extravagance: Lady Mary was a charm- ing exception to the ordinary aggregate of heart- lessness, frivolity, and wastefulness which constitute the character of young females in high life. Lady Clarissa Meleombe was jealous, envious, and selfish, even to the grudging of her own sister any particle of happiness in which she herself could not share: Lady Mary would have thought no personal sacrifice too great in order to afford the slightest pleasure to the hearts of those whom she loved. Lady Clarissa looked upon the Duchess as a brilliant rival who frequently engaged and monopolised attentions which would otherwise be devoted to herself: whereas Lady Mary regarded her step-mother as a kind and affectionate substitute for the maternal parent she had lost. The reader will therefore per- ceive how great was the discrepancy between the characters and dispositions of the two young ladies. And now, while the Duke and Duchess are re- ceiving the guests who continue to pour in, the sisters are conversing with some of those who were amongst the earliest arrivals. At first Lady Clarissa appears radiant with happiness: never did she seem more gracious—more condescending—more thoroughly good-humoured. Even the natural amiability and unaffected cordiality of Lady Mary ceased to shine to the usual advantage in contrast with the mien and manner of her sister. It was evident that Lady Clarissa was acting in accordance with a pre-determination to render herself especially agreeable upon the present occcasion. But alas! for human resolutions!—in a short time, just as the discourse was progressing with all possible suavity negligence into a vacant chair by the side of the beautiful Lady Mary Melecombe, to whom he began exclusively toaddress his discourse, all Lady Clarissa’s studied good-humour and forced affability fled in a moment. Vainly did she endeavour to rally her spirits—fruitlessly did she strive with all her strength and all her power to appear at her ease: the cloud was not to be lifted from her brow—the gloom was not to be dispersed from her features ;— nor was it within the compass of her ability to mi- tigate the lightnings which her really fine eyes darted forth at brief intervals upon her amiable, gay, and charming sister who remained utterly un- conscious of the mortal envy which she was thus conjuring up. In the meantime the Duke's son and heir, the young and elegant Marquis of Arden, was lounging through the brilliantly-lighted saloons,—pausing to exchange a few words with those guests who were most intimately known to him—bowing to others— and every now and then stopping fora short time to converse with any little knot or group that was composed of young and beautiful damsels. Then as his fine dark eyes lingered for afew minutes with a sensuous gloating upon their charms, and as his bright red lips repealed the white teeth between, soft looks glanced tenderly back upon him, reflecting his own and blending somewhat with their warm and impassioned ardour. _ Presently Mr. Lavenham was ushered into the splendid saloons; and he was immediately weleomed by the Duke and Duchess with the cordiality which is only bestowed upon an old and staunch friend. He was dressed with the most scrupulous neatness, but in a plain and unassuming style: his whole appearance indicated the polished, well-educated, enlightened, and liberal-minded gentleman ;—and though a simple commoner, without even the most insignificant of those aristocratic titles which are so much prized in the upper circles and so justly con- temned by the masses of the people in general,— without even the factitious aid of one of those tinsel adornments to give a prestige to his name, he was greeted with respect and friendly warmth by all the noblest and highest in that brilliant com- amongst the group of which the high-born | pany. sisters had become the centre—just as the young The dancing commenced: the Harl of Mostyndale ladies seated near, and the young gentlemen who | became Lady Mary’s partner in the first quadrille— were lounging in that charming vicinage, were tossing about from one to the other those fashion- able nothings and elegant trifles which form the conversational staple upon such occasions,—at this particular period was it that the young, handsome, and wealthy Earl of Mostyndale sauntered up to the group. | while her elder sister, Lady Clarissa, was compelled to bestow her hand upon an antiquated beau who had numbered sixty winters, but who would fain per- suade the world that he was yet a young man of forty. The fact of having been selected by such an ancient specimen of extravagant dandyism for the opening dance, completed Lady Clarissa’s vexation ;—and Unmarried—possessed of a splendid fortune— | if burning looks had the power to kill, the glances with a countenance as intellectually beautiful as! of almost fiend-like malignity which she threw that of Apollo—bearing a stainless character alike in public and in private life—and endowed with those honourable and generous feelings which had passed scatheless through the ordeal of temptation, —the Earl of Mostyndale was the object against whom all intriguing mammas directed their wiles, and to whom the aspirations of all marriageable young ladies were certain to soar. To receive at- tentions from him, was at once to arouse the envy and hatred, the jealousy and spite of all those whom the | upon her sister, would have stretched this excellent and amiable young lady dead upon the painted floor over which her delicate feet moyed with such grace- ful lightness, CHAPTER VIIL. THE CONSERVATORY. preference threw into the back-ground;—and thus WHuite the first quadrille was proceeding, the Duke was it that when his lordship dropped with easy | of Belmont had quitted his wife and joined a knot ECORNICLOO On ee ee eS “S (F@)