The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 32: what you’re looking at

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18 THE YOUNG DUCHESS; able sentiments—yes, with a single look they conveyed volumes of the silent language of the hear ” ‘‘T would much sooner have had a single page of an audible language from the lips,” interjected Alice, ‘“‘ than all those volumes of the heart’s hieroglyphics. Why, it has been the most stupidly sentimental affair ” But here Alice Denton stopped short, for she beheld a sudden flush of indignation upon Imo- gen’s beauteous countenance. It however imme- diately passed away ; and it was with a good- tempered melancholy smile that Miss Hartland observed, ‘‘ You cannot enter into my feelings, Alice. Let me therefore make a speedy end of my-story. It was about three weeks ago that I took little Annie to a shop in the Westminster Road to purchase her a new frock,—when behold! I found myself face to face with him. It was the first time he had ever seen little Annie with me. I saw that he became deadly pale as if he expe- rienced a sudden shock; and I felt the burning blush sweep over my countenance. Then a dim- ness appeared to come upon my vision: by an effort I recovered myself—and he was already hurrying away in another direction. Two or three hours later I saw him in this street yes, in this street ! The dusk was then setting in— and he was muffled in a cloak ; but I beheld him glide out of one shop and then into another, where he stayed for several minutes——” ‘Do you think he was asking questions ?” in- quired Alice. . “There can be no doubt about it,” rejoined Imogen: ‘‘he was seeking information concerning me. From that day I have seen him no more. And now, Alice, not another syllable upon the. subject !—but do not, my dear friend, ask me to accompany you on any more excursions, for I am not in the humour for them. Leave me to my- self. You have your Gylvester to escort you ° ‘Oh, Sylvester indeed !” ejaculated Alice, pout- ing her pretty lips with an expression of min- gled scorn and contempt. ‘A miserable puppy— as mean as he is boastful——” ‘‘ What is that roll of papers you have brought with you, Alice ?” abruptly inquired Imogen, as if she did not like the turn which the discourse had just then taken. “Ah, I quite forgot!” exclaimed Alige. came on purpose to show you the portrait ; but we almost immediately got talking upon other subjects ‘i “ Ah! itis the portrait—eh ?” said Imogen ; and she proceeded to unfold the roll of thick paper. It was a lithograph picture of Alice Denton, in the same style and by the same artist as the por- trait of Mademoiselle Imogene which was sus- pended to the wall in the parlour. ‘The reader has doubtless understood that Imogen’s friend fol- lowed the same profession as herself, and was. en- gaged at Astley’s Amphitheatre ; but she had not been honoured with a Trench nomenclature. At the bottom of her portrait figured the veritable English name—Miss Anice Denton. She was therein represented in a fantastic dress, and in the act of taking off a mask from her countenance. The costume and mask bore reference to some favourite character which she was wont to per- sonate ; but we need not trouble our reader with ee re OTS = OR OR, MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. many details on this point. In respect to Miss Alice herself, we have already said she was very good-looking ; but she was entirely deficient in that intellectuality which characterized the face of Imogen Hartland. The features of Alice Den- ton breathed a soft sensuousness ; and her figure, instead of being striking and brilliant, was soft and voluptuous, though modelled to an admirable symmetry. Good-nature, an easy indifference to the cares of the world, and a very moderate amount of mental culture, were indicated by the expression of Miss Denton’s face. Like her friend Imogen, she had blue eyes: but they were only languishing, and not vivacious: they were indi- cative of an indolent, luxurious temperament—a disposition that was frank and easy, gay and thoughtless, callous and fond of pleasure. The formation of the mouth and the voluptuously rounded chin combined to tell the same tale. Though she was not more than nineteen or twenty years of age, yet her figure already gave indica- tions of an expansion to embonpoint ; yet it was far from deficient in grace—and the limbs, though robust, were perfect in their modelling. Neither she nor Imogen had aught of that jaded or fading appearance which so frequently characterizes ac- tresses when seen in the day-time: there was not the slightest shade of a bluish tint under the eyes; and thus these beings, when viewed to- gether, though in many respects so different, nevertheless formed a group of a most interesting character. The merits of the portrait were discussed for some little while by the two young females ; and then Alice took her departure, having vainly en- deavoured to persuade her friend Imogen to accompany her in the water-excursion on the Morrow, When Alice had left, Miss Hartland ascended to her chamber to perform her toilet. She dressed herself in a plain neat attire, so that she now looked a very different being from what she was in the fantastic semi-Greek, semi-ideal costume which she wore when we first introduced her to our readers. She had a thick veil attached to her bonnet; for there were times when she found it convenient to conceal her countenance, because if recognised in any public place as Mademoiselle Imogene, the “star” of Astley’s, she was liable to become the foous of half-a-dozen quizzing glasses stuck into the eyes of snobs, gents, and fast young men about town. Leaying little Annie in the care of her servant- woman, and affectionately assuring the child that she would not fail to bring her home some sweet- meats, Miss Hartland quitted the house. Passing into the Westminster Road, she crossed the bridge and proceeded to a large linendraper’s in the neighbourhood of Charing Cross, where she had some purchases to make. On leaving the estab- lishment, Imogen said to herself, ‘I am half in- clined to call upon the brilliant Duchess; for more than a week has elapsed since she promised to com- municate with me 7 But here Imogen’s reflections were suddenly cut short and all her ideas were turned into another channel, by the appearance of an individual who was issuing from the narrow passage leading by way of Spring Gardens into St. James’s Park. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty— a little above the middle height—of handsome oO Connicloooks Colin