The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 187: what you’re looking at

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

THE YOUNG DUCHESS; OR, MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. 173 ‘fringed with long lashes which were dark at the roots but grew lighter towards the points, as if the auburn beams of a sunny reflection tipped them goldenly. She was not tall: her figure was slightly formed, «and exquisitely symmetrical. There was an expression of angelic innocence in her countenance—an air of fairy lightness about her form. She seemed to be about seventeen or eighteen years of age ; and she had that silvery joyousness of voice, those gushing spirits, and that look of artlessness and candour which made her appear as if she were yet in all the freshness of girlhood’s still earlier period of fifteen or six-: teen. We should add that she was dressed with mingled richness and elegance, in that species of Russian toilet which borrows something from the French, something from the Italian, and some- thing from the Spanish. Thus, for instance, her robe was of the most exquisite Parisian fashion : but she wore a high comb at the back of her head, to which a long flowing black veil was fas- tened—so that if she had possessed an olive com- plexion instead of the one that seemed formed of milk and roses, and with hair and eyes to corre- spond, she might have been taken for a daughter of the sunny South on account of that portion of the toilet. But the veil was not drawn over the beautiful face; and as she threw herself loung- ingly on the sofa by Ethel’s side, it formed a vast sable back-ground to show forth her sweet face and sylphid figure in most advantageous relief. As the reader may have perceived, the Princess instantaneously began conversing familiarly with Ethel—but it was that lady-like, polished, and well-bred familiarity which springs from a kind heart, gushing with the most generous feelings, and yearning towards any one of the same age who may seem fitted to become acompanion. Countess Olonetz seated herself at a little distance; and though she was too well-bred, and perhaps too discreet, to continue to display either annoyance or uneasiness at this proceeding on the part of the good-natured, artless, but self-willed Princess, she could not altogether conceal a certain impatience and a desire that the interview should be as short as possible. ““So you see,” continued her Highness, “ being very fond of the English people, and liking to have an opportunity of speaking your language, I am quite glad that accident should have thrown you in my way. I have only been in London a few days—I mean on this present occasion. I have scarcely yet seen a soul—and I was getting tired ‘of being cooped up in this house just as if it were a cage !” ““T offered to take your Highness in the carriage just now,” said the Countess Olonetz. ‘Ah, but that was to go shopping !” cried the Princess; ‘‘ and nothing is more tedious. Pray tell me, my dear madam,” she continued, turning ow Ethel, ‘‘ by what name I may address ou ?” y Ethel named herself as Mrs. Trevor; and the Princess, gazing upon her with an air of even affectionate interest, exclaimed, ‘‘Ah, you are married, then ?” A rapid change took place in Ethel’s looks ; and the Princess, grasping her hand, said in a tone that was full of tenderness, ‘‘ Ah, I fear that I may have inadvertently said something to grieve and afflict you! Perhaps—perhaps—your | husband is no more? Ah, forgive me! I see that it is so! And now tell me,” pursued the Princess, throwing cheerfulness into her voice and making her countenance brighten up as if it were an invitation to her companion to start away from a melancholy topic,—“ tell me what is your Christian name ?” Ethel could not help smiling at the artless good-nature, and ‘unsophisticated familiarity of the youthful Princess: but she at once mentioned her Christian name. ‘“‘ Ethel! what a beautiful name!” cried the Princess. ‘Oh, what a beautiful name !”—and she literally clapped her small white hands with all the joyousness of girlish approval. ‘I must now tell you my name; for I daresay that you do not already know it. It is Roxana p At this moment the door opened, and Count Olonetz made his appearance. He started and looked surprised for an instant—but only for an instant; and with a respectful bow towards the Princess, he said, “I am sorry to deprive your Highness of the companionship of the young lady with whom you are conversing; but I happen to know that her time is precious :”——and he evidently said these words in English that Ethel might profit by the hint. ‘Oh, you must not take her away from me!” cried the Princess, seizing Ethel by both hands. ‘We have only this instant become acquainted !” ‘Indeed, I fear,” said Ethel, who was affected almost to tears by the friendship displayed to- wards her by the youthful Princess,—‘“‘I fear that I must leave your Highness.” “Then you will come and see me again?” ex- claimed Roxana, her beautiful countenance light- ing up with the idea that had just struck her that they might meet again. Ethel glanced in an embarrassed manner towards the Count and Countess: she naturally felt that her position was an awkward one. ‘« To be sure!” said the Count, with the utmost se lf-possession, ‘‘ this young lady———” ‘Mrs. Trevor!” ejaculated the Princess. ‘Oh, you see I: know her name! Ethel Trevor! But I told her that mine is Roxana Mildreda 2 Ejaculations burst from the lips of both the Count and the Countess,—ejaculations which seemed to be full of mingled alarm and annoyance —nay, almost of affright. There was likewise a cry from the lips of Ethel; for that name of Mildreda naturally struck her as strange,— strange when associated with all the incidents that were uppermost in her mind—strange when suddenly flung at her as it were from the midst of the cloud of mysteries that enveloped all the purposes for which she had been brought thither ! ‘‘Ah, I forgot,” said the Princess, suddenly turning pale, and for a moment looking terrified, —“T forgot that injunction which has been more than once so solemnly repeated , ‘Enough, Princess dear Princess!” inter- jected the Countess Olonetz, earnestly and en- treatingly. “But why, my dear Mrs. Trevor,” ejaculated the volatile Roxana, “should you also have cried out as you did when I happened to Jet slip ” “J beg your Highness a thousand pardons,” said the Count, in a firm and decisive tone: ‘‘ but Mrs. Trevor’s time is precious——” ‘Mrs. Trevor did not say so for her herself,” COMO YN Wn) Colin