The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 144: what you’re looking at

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130 tery attached to Lady Langport than she had as yet completely fathomed. It hung about her mind like a cloud in the midst of the sunshine: it was as a sumy puddle in her path: it was like a cobweb on the wall of an elegantly appointed apartment. She had a vague presentiment that she did not as yet quite understand all the duties which she had to perform, and that any farther initiation would not be agreeable Vainly she strove to balance against these contingencies all the advantages of the situation into which she had suddenly and most unexpectedly leapt: she trembled lest something might transpire which should render it impossible for her to keep it! We now come to the second source of uneasi- ness. Miss Crediton had told her that Lady Langport saw a great deal of society, and that this was of a select character. What if she were ac- quainted with the Ardleighs? Having detected Count de Mandeville’s duplicity in some respects, she might reasonably doubt whether he had told her the truth when declaring in so glib and off-: hand'a manner that’ the Duke had gone abroad for three years. She began to doubt it: shé now fancied it was far more probable that he was look- ing after herself: At all events the Duchess knew her ; and if her Grace happened to visit at Hendon Court she might expose Her. as the mistress of her husband: To be brief, Ethel found it to be of the greatest importance to her present pedce of niind, as well as to her reputé in the eyes of het pa- \troness, that she should discover whether the Ard- leighs visited at Hendon Court: But the coiver- sation took no turn which afforded Mrs. Trevor | an opportunity of incidentally putting such 4 question; aud after a long ramble through the grounds and in thé neighbourhood, ‘they retired to the house at dbout six v’clock.’ ; “As you and I are alone to-day at dinner, Ethel,” said Lady Langport, ‘I shall not make any change in my own toilet. Jam fatigued, and shall repose upon the sofa in the drawing-rdoim until dinner is announced: You can avail yourself of the interval, if you think fit, to arrange your clothes in your wardrobe and drawers.” Ethel accordingly ascended to her chamber, where she occupied herself in the manner indi- cated: but she had little Alfred with her—and the presence of her child, by eliciting all the mother’s fond endearments, helped to wean away her thoughts from the sources of uneasiness to which we have before alluded. The new nursery- maid arrived; and at seven the child was consigned to her care— while Ethel, dressed in a becoming evening toilet, descended to the drawing-room. .Dinner was shortly announced ; and she fol- ‘lowed her ladyship to that smaller dining-room which was used on ordinary occasions. The re- past was of an exquisite character and elegantly served: there were several French dishes ; and her ladyship incidentally mentioned that she kept a French cook, for that having been a long time om the Continent in all the early part of her life, she was attached to that style of living. The wines were choice; and Ethel noticed that though her ladyship ate with all the appéarance of a remarkable appetite, she was excessively temperate in her beverage, and only drank her wine mixed with water. however, she partook of the several dishes to an THE YOUNG DUCHESS; OR, MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. a extent which almost amounted to what the French would call gourmandise and the English ‘“‘oormandising ;” so that Ethel scarcely won dered the form of her patroness should have ex- panded into so fine an embonpoint. An excellent dessert followed the dinner: the two ladies then ascended to the drawing-room, where coffee was served up ; and at ten o’clock they rose to retire to rest. Ethel’s bed-chamber was entered by two se- parate doors: the inner one communicated with Lady Langport’s dressing-room ; the outer one with a passage. On reaching the upper landing, Ethel did not know whether she was to ac- company her patroness any farther, or whether she was to pass round by the corridor to her own chamber. Lady Langport perceived her hesita- tion—comprehended it—and for some reason or another looked deeply distressed. Ethel knew not what to'think : but obedient to some sudden im- pulse, she hastily said, “ Can I do anything for your ladyship to-night ?” “ Ves—this way :” and Lady Langport led her into her chamber: She shut the door and locked it: she then passed through the bath-room into the dressing- room, atid thence into Ethel’s own apartment. Little Alfred was sleeping in the bed : Ethel, with a strange and unaccountable nervousness, bent over and kissed the child—while Lady Langport proceeded to lock the outer door of that chamber also. She then returned into the dressing-room, whithet Ethel mechanically followed. “Shut that door, my young friend,” said her ladyship, pointing to the one which communicated with Ethel’s room. This was doné; and now Ethel trembled so vio- lently——shé scatéély knew why—that her emotion was visible, notwithstanding that she strove her hardest td coittrol it. She felt as if she were standing upon the threshold of some strange and fearful revelatioti: ‘' Rthel,” said Lady Langport, in a voice which was low and sow sounded hollow, “the moment is come when you must learn my secret—my fear- ful secret—to the very uttermost! I think—I fear that you do not altogether suspect it. Per- haps I was not sufficiently explicit with you this morning; and I am afraid that Miss Crediton did not farther initiate you—though I intentionally threw you together for that purpose.” ‘What does your ladyship mean? Oh, what do you mean ?” asked Ethel, quivering from head to foot. “You are about to know the full extent of your duties,” replied Lady Langport. “Ah! your courage is failing you! I warned you against promising too much and pledging yourself too precipitately! Would you like to retreat? But no! it is too late! it is too late!—for Martha is gone,” added the lady bitterly; “and not for worlds would I trust this secret of mine to any of those hirelings who have no delicacy of feeling, and who if they quarrelled with me to-morrow would go and proclaim to the world what I “TY will not retreat—I will do my duty, what- ever it may be:” and Ethel summoned all her cou- rage; for she thought of her innocent cid in the On the other hand, ;: adjacent room, and of the: necessity of making any sacrifice of feeling, so long as it was compa- COMO YN Wn) Colin