The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 29: what you’re looking at

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THE YOUNG DUCHESS; OR, MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. 15 Yes, by climbing over the palings at the end,” interrupted Casey, the monotony of his voice now breaking into irascibility. ‘‘ A pretty thing for a man like me to do with the chance of being seized upon by some gardener as a thief: be- sides the chance of tearing my pantaloons.” “I would offer to come and assist you over the palings,” said the Baronet,—" only, if any of the guests straying in that direction should happen to meet us together, they» would think it strange——” ‘““No doubt!” interrupted Casey, glancing down at his toilet: “for any one can tell that J am not a fitting guest for Thornbury Park !” Having thus spoken, with a species of cynical bitterness mingled with scorn and irony, Mr. Casey passed as rapidly along the avenue as his infirm limbs could convey him. The Baronet returned into the mansion—but it was only to order his carriage to be gotten in readiness, so that he might immediately take his departure ; for he knew the disposition of the young Duchess well, arfd he was aware that he should only be injuring his cause by venturing to seek her again after the positive injunction she had given that he was to appear no more in her presence until she should have put to the test the tale which he had told her in reference to her _ husband. CHAPTER IV. THE TWO FRIENDS. Two or three days after the incidents which we have been relating, a handsome showily-dressed young female, whose age was probably about twenty, knocked at the door of Mademoiselle Imogene’s house in the vicinity of Astley’s Am- phitheatre. The summons was soon answered by the servant-woman, who evidently knew the visitress—for she at once said, “You can walk in, Miss, if you please.” The young female, availing herself of this per- mission, entered the little parlour which we have before described, and where Imogen was now lounging in a large arm-chair, in a mood that was half listless and half pensive, just as when we first introduced her to our readers. She was dressed in @ morning wrapper: she was com- pletely en negligée—but though her toilet was as yet unmade, there was nothing slovenly in her appearance, and the freshness of her skin denoted that her ablutions had been fully attended to. The little girl was playing about the room, and she presented as perfect a picture of neatness and cleanliness as when we first described her. ‘** Ah, my dear Alice,” said Miss Hartland, in a tone alike familiar and languid, “is it you? But I need scarcely ask such a question—for you are almost my only visitor—and you are assuredly always a welcome one.” “To-day is Saturday, you know,” exclaimed Miss Alice Denton—for we may as well at once acquaint the reader with the young female’s en- tire name; ‘‘ and consequently to-morrow is Sun- day,” she added, in a gay tone. ‘So I came to propose that we should take a run down to Grayves- end—or even as far as Margate if you like; for I see that an excursion steamboat is adver tised i ‘No, I thank you, Alice,” interrupted Miss Hartland: “no more excursion-trips for me.” ‘Why, what has come over you, Imogen?” demanded her friend in surprise. ‘For the last three or four weeks you have refused to take any holiday, although the fine weather has set in, and you and I always used to make it a rule to enjoy ourselves once a week!” ; ‘‘T know it, Alice—I know it, my dear friend,” answered Imogen; ‘‘but my humour is changed. Do not seek me as a companion for your hours of recreation and gaiety you would find me a very dull one.” “But why is this, Imogen?” inquired Alice, with a tone and look of concern—for she evi- dently was a good-natured, kind-hearted young woman. ‘have noticed that you have not been the same as you were wont; and it is not that you have heard any ill-tidings concerning your brother—for if so, you would have told me—— because that at least could be no secret. Ah! I begin to think, Imogen, that you must be in love!” Miss Hartland made no immediate answer; and nothing on her part indicated that her friend was right in the conjecture she had just thrown out. Indeed, Imogen seemed as if she had not caught the words at all: but at the expiration of a couple of minutes, she said in a strange wild, vacant manner, “‘ Yes, Alice—I am in love.” “Oh, then, if your love be unrequited,” cried Miss Denton, ‘‘you must endeavour to divert your thoughts into other channels. But if your love be reciprocated, then it is a very strong reason why you should enjoy yourself with an occasional holiday, in order to celebrate as it were the happiness you thus experience. Therefore, in reference to the excursion of to-morrow - “Do not talk to me of excursions, Alice!” in- terrupted Imogen, somewhat petulantly. “It was on one of those occasions——you will re- member it well, Alice——it was the final one we took last autumn ” “What!” ejaculated Miss Denton, starting as if a sudden light flashed in unto her comprehen- sion: “you do not mean that the tall handsome young gentleman, who picked up your book when you dropped it, and who handed us so politely ashore at Margate ” “Why have you fixed upon him?” inquired Miss Hartland, as a slight flush now crossed her cheeks. “Oh, a thousand reasons struck me,—as thou- sand recollections swept into my head,” cried Alice, “when you spoke of that excursion! I remember it was there I first saw that young gentleman: but I have seen him fifty times at the theatre since—and I have met him walking in the Westminster Road and upon the bridge; but I never gave the matter much thought—for one often and often sees the same faces at the theatre — and then as to one person meeting another very frequently in the same neighbour- hood, that is also likely enough if they both live there———” “But are you sure that the young gentleman to whom you allude, lives in this neighbourhood ?” inquired Imogen, somewhat quickly. “YT have no certainty on the point,” answered oO | Connicloookks Colin