The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 130: what you’re looking at

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

TT A 116 THE YOUNG DUCHESS; OR, MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. —but for the last two or three days the business has begun to wear another aspect. Launcelot has not been to the house—and Selina won’t go to see Lord and Lady Trentham. We can’t under- stand it. The governor is in a rage about it » ‘“Perhaps your sister and Mr. Osborne have quarrelled ?” remarked the Baronet. “Not a bit of it! Selina never quarrels with anybody. Besides, that was the very question the governor asked her, and she said positively there was nothing of the sort. But Osborne’s conduct is the most extraordinary: he keeps away—he doesn’t say why—he sends no note However, my father has got the Trenthams en- tirely in his power, and he’s not the sort of covey to let them fly away from their engagement. So, you see, this business has made him savage; and then there’s the loss of the five thousand that I told you about—and now the governor looks as if he really meant to wreak all his anger upon ou.” ‘But I left a message up in Hatton Garden, to say that I would call again this evening, or else to-morrow in the forenoon.” “TI know you did. But the governor has not been in since you called. I daresay it will stop him from doing anything when he does receive the message: but I thought I'd just drive round and tell you how matters stood; and—and also see about the little acceptance; for I wouldn't have the governor know I'd given it to you for all the world !” At this moment, before Sir Abel Kingston had time to make any reply, ‘the door was again thrown open, and the Baronet’s man-servant an- nounced Captain Cauliflower and Mr. Tiffany. Both were officers in the Coldstream Guards,— the former being about one-and-twenty years of age, and the latter eighteen. They were dressed in ‘plain clothes, and they lounged into the room with an air of such fashionable languor that it seemed as if they were utterly incapable of any strong effort of the physical energies. ““How are you, old fellah ?” said Captain Cauliflower, just giving a couple of fingers to his friend the Baronet. “Well, old fellaw,” said Lieutenant Tiffany, presenting his forefinger : and then both the gentlemen stared at Sylvester Casey as if they took him for some phenomenon such as they had never seen before, or for a curiosity not usually encountered beyond the precincts of the Zoolo- gical Gardens, where it may be found amongst the monkey species. * Ah, I forgot! you don’t know each other !” said the Baronet. ‘‘ This is my friend Casey—— Mr. Sylvester Casey, son of the eminent banker —or merchant—or something of the sort.” Captain Cauliflower bowed stiffly, and Mr. Tiffany giggled a little at the name of Casey— and then he said, ‘‘ Beg pawdon, Mistaw What’s- your-name But is that your trap standing in the street—haw ?” “T rather think it is,” replied Sylvester, nothing disconcerted by the demeanour of the two officers. ‘‘ A stunning pair of prads they are too—regular out-an’-outers.” ‘“‘ Mr. Casey is a good judge of horseflesh,” re- remarked the Baronet. ‘¢ Well, I rather think I know a thing or two in that way :” and Sylvester winked his eye with a vulgar familiarity. ‘‘ I introduce myself, gentle- men, as a bit of a sporting character—not much —a little eh, Kingston ?” . “T say, old fellaw,” said Tiffany, turning to the Baronet, “is your friend strong with the foil or single-stick—haw ?” “‘T should like to know what he is not strong at,” answered Sir Abel, who at once perceived that there was a prospect of some diversion. ‘Come, Mistaw What’s-your-name,” said Tif-’ fany, taking up a couple of single-sticks ; ‘“‘ and let’s see who’s the bettaw at this game.” “‘ By Jove, I’m rather out of practice,” stam- mered Sylvester, who had never fenced in his life. ‘* Indeed, it’s a long time since I had a foil or single-stick in my hand—and one devilish soon forgets - ‘“‘ Oh, I’m only a muff at it myself, my dear fellaw,” interrupted Tiffany. ‘‘ You are sure to give me a good thrashing—haw !” “Well, I’ve no objection to try,” said Sylvester, encouraged by this assurance; and he thought that by making himself agreeable, he should form an intimacy with these two friends of Sir Abel Kingston. The table was wheeled away from the middle of the room ; and the combatants stationed them- selves in front of each other. ‘Fhe sticks were crossed ; and Mr. Tiffany actually seemed to be so ignorant of the proceeding as scarcely to know how to take the proper attitude ;—whereas there was Sylvester, with his arms and lifnbs extended like a spread eagle, gathering assurance and har- dihood from the apparent inefficiency of his oppo- nent. Sylvester accordingly quickly began the attack, and dealt Tiffany a pretty smart blow upon the arm—whereat the young officer cried out in his affected voice, “Oh, my dear fellaw! that hurts !” ‘‘ Have you had enough of it ?” demanded Syl- vester, with triumphant looks. ‘Well, almost. ’Pon honour, you are too strong forme! But come, just one more bout— haw. You are a fine fellaw and good fenceaw, Mistaw What’s-your-name.” And now, while he was yet speaking, it seemed as if Mr. Tiffany became rapidly inspired with new life. He took the proper attitude—he bent his body back—his chest seemed to expand —a fire gleamed in his eye—and his single stick began to rain rapid blows about the person of Sylvester. Now here and now there—now a tap on the sword arm, then a thwack upon the left leg—then over the shoulder—and next across the ribs—so rapid were the proofs of Mr. Tiffany’s proficiency. Sylvester was astounded. In a very few moments he was smarting all over as the blows rained mercilessly upon him—until he suddenly threw down his single-stick, exclaiming, ‘‘ There’s enough of it! Why, you're quite at home at this game !” ‘Oh, not a bit, my dear fellaw,” said Tiffany coolly. ‘“‘Only one gains by practice, you know —haw.” Sylvester sat down quite exhausted ; while Sir Abel, scarcely able to restrain his laughter, rang the bell to order in more bottled stout and cherry brandy. Sylvester refreshed himself therewith ; and Tiffany patted him on the back, telling him he was “a devilish good fellaw, and that he should like to see him some day at the mess-dinnaw.” COMO YN Wn) Colin