Agnes, or, Beauty and Pleasure — page 141: what you’re looking at

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

ue ee ee ee AGNES; OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE, rcoms in the habitation were furnished. The dra- peries were of the most costly description: the carpet was so thick that the delicate foot of a female treading thereon would be completely con- cealed in the pile. On the mantelpiece there was a splendid clock of or-molu, consisting of a group of figures retaining the dial between them,—the whole covered with an immense glass shade. The paper of the walls was of scarlet and gold; and the hangings were to match. Massive marble pedestals, elaborately sculptured, sustained vases of alabaster, filled with flowers from Covent Gar- den Market. Upon a lounge, or demi-sofa, Floribel was half: reclining. It was about one in the afternoon ; and she was still in her morning negligée. Her raven black hair floated in massive tresses upon her shoulders and down her back: the French muslin wrapper afforded something more than a glimpse of the beauteous bosom over which it was but lightly fastened. It defined all the expanding richness of a form which still preserving a youth- ful symmetry, nevertheless promised to be of voluptuous luxuriance ;—and that glowing rich- ness which we have previously described as charac- terizing the whole person of Floribel, was now more marked and impressive to the sense than when we first beheld her at Sidney Villa. One delicately-shaped foot, thrust into a light slipper, peeped forth beneath the skirt of her drapery as she thus half-reclined upon the sofa. Upon an elegant little table of rosewood most elaborately carved, stood a casket of jewels, which a neatly dressed, handsome, and genteel-looking lady’s-maid, who was standing by, had but very recently brought in; and that it was a new gift was likewise evident from the fact that Floribel was attentively scrutinising each costly article that the casket contained. In the midst of her occu- pation, a parlour-maid—youthful, genteel, pretty, and well-dressed, as was the other female de- pendant—entered the room, bearing a massive silver salver containing decanters of wine, anda silver filagree basket filled with cakes. In a word, there was every evidence to denote that Floribel was surrounded by all the luxuries and comforts that money could purchase,—magnificent fur- niture and costly jewels, delicacies for the table, and servants to anticipate her slightest wish. But the Hon. Theodore Clifford was not there. And was Floribel completely happy P—was perfect felicity at the bottom of that almost childish de- light with which she first contemplated jewel after jewel and gem after gem—or of that coquettish look with which she placed a wreath of pearls upon the raven darkness of her hair, and flung her re- gards upon her maid as if to inquire how the or- naments became her? The maid was of course in raptures—subdued only by the respect which she observed towards her mistress—at the costly ob- jects which one after another Floribel drew forth from the casket; and the young lady’s vanity was infinitely flattered by the well-turned compliments which her abigail continued to pay her. And with her pride thus flattered with the means of embel- lishing that really magnificent beauty of which she was so fully conscious, and of which she might be pardoned for being proud, was Floribel happy? If she were, why was it that every now and then the lips which smiled as the eyes dwelt upon the con- es ee ee 133 tents of the casket, were for a moment compressed as if to keep down a sigh? Why was it tnatever and anon a shade of pensiveness came over the young lady’s features, and abstraction succeeded to the delight with which she gazed upon iewels and gems,—an abstraction which showed that her thoughts were silently wandering elsewhere. until she suddenly awoke as it were from her reverie with a start, and spoke in a gay voice as if to con- vince her domestics that gaiety was the sole and unquestioned occupant of her heart! * Put down the tray upon another table, Alice,” said Floribel, thus addressing the parlour- maid : then again turning to the lady’s-maid, she asked, “ Are not these things beautiful, Catharine ?” “ Beautiful, ma’am!” responded the abigail. * And everything chosen with such taste! avery- thing so well suited to your particular style of beauty!” “You flatter me, Catharine!” said Floribel, seeming to smile deprecatingly, but in reality well pleased at the incense of adulation which was offered up to her. “T only meant to speak the truth, ma’am,’ replied the lady’s-maid. “I hope I do not give offence by remarking that Mr. Clifford displays the most excellent taste P” “Ob, no! praise my husband as much as you like!’ cried Floribel: “it is very different from praising me!” “Pardon me for adding, ma’am,” said Catha- rine, “that Mr. Clifford’s taste displays itself in everything—not merely in the selection of gems, but in the choice of her who is best fitted to wear them.” “ What! another compliment?” cried Floribel, laughing in a manner which displayed the two rows of her brilliant teeth, pure and without blem- ish as stainless ivory. ‘‘ You are really incorrigi- ble! But yet in everything you say in respect to Mr. Clifford’s tastes, you are perfectly right: it is really exquisite! and the promptitude with which he does everything is not less remarkable! This house taken, as one may say, all in an hour, and fitted up from floor to roof in three short days!—it is as if he worked miracles with Aladdin’s lamp!” ‘“There are certain inspirations,’ said Catha- rine, “ which always make a man act as if he were exercising magical powers ;—and this is the inspi- ration of love,’ she added timidly, as if she feared that she might seem too bold in her discourse. “Yes, love!’ said Floribel, slowly throwing herself back against the cushions of the sofa, and appearing to concentrate all her feelings in the luxurious sense of love. ‘‘ That sentiment, as you have justly observed, Catharine, works marvels, What has not man achieved for the object of his love?—and what likewise has he not sacrificed P To love may be attributed many of the proofs of most gigantic strength, as well as many of the evidences of the most pitiable weakness, associated with the name of man!” “All this is true, ma’am,” said Catharine, though for an instant she looked somewhat bewil- dered at the high-flown strain in which her mis- tress was speaking. “If I should not be thought too bold, I should venture to remark that you, ma’am, ought to be completely happy: for the Hon. Mr. Clifford appears determined that you shall want for nothing.” CoOMmiclooolkks Om