The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 332: what you’re looking at

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

A SI ACAD ESO I NI CY PO IIA FA OAC Gt ni cp A nn eet sen Normans 518 THE YOUNG DUCHESS; OR, MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. th Senedd) in mingled surprise and distress. have told this secret that would have enjoined the maintenance of so much mystery ?—-who could be sufficiently interested in it———” ‘“‘T beg you not to question me further,” re- joined Warren. The railway-contractor looked perplexed; and _ after a brief silence he said, ‘You told me at the time that you had never until that occa- sion breathed to a living soul a syllable in allu- sion to it?” ‘' And this was true,” replied the stockbroker, hastily ; “‘and I likewise promised that I would continue to keep the secret inviolably. I have done so, and I will ever do so. But donot ques- tion me further.” “With these answers I must be contented,” said Seymour, in a voice which was nevertheless expressive of disappointment. ‘ By the bye,” he said, with a suddenly altering tone, as if casting away the former topic from his memory, ‘ how are you now getting on in your own affairs? Do not think that I mean to allude to any sore topic ‘* Well then,” answered Warren, somewhat curtly, ‘‘ thanks to the assistance, or rather the forbearance which I received at your hands and at those of two or three others, I think I shall be enabled to set myself right altogether. The beauty of it is, there is scarcely a soul who sus- pects that I have been at all queer.” “Tf I were you, Warren,” remarked Seymour, “‘T would diminish my expenses until fairly set firm upon the legs again.” ‘“ What, my dear fellow!” exclaimed the stock- broker ; ‘‘are you mad? would you advise me to court the very catastrophe which I have been taking so much pains to ward off? Why, if I were to put down a single horse or drink a bottle of champagne the less, it would be instan- taneous destruction! To economise at such a crisis, is to proclaim the nakedness of the land! It is “just the very conjuncture when a person ought to increase his expenditure rather than diminish it. Many a fellow has saved him- self from perdition by setting up an extra carriage at the very moment when he could not afford to keep so much as a donkey-cart. There’s that fool Norton, the country banker—whom I’m going presently to oppose in the Bankruptcy Court,—if he hadn’t begun to cut down his expenses he never would have made his customers suspect the true nature of his affairs and so caused the run which broke his bank. He used to pass fora millionaire —and he might have lived on the reputation in luxury and security till the end.; whereas it now transpires that his whole assets will not pay more than eighteenpence in the pound.” ‘And why should you go and oppose this un- fortunate man?” asked Seymour. “Oppose him? Why, to be sure!” ejaculated Warren, as if astonished that there should be any doubt upon the point. ‘But why, I ask? His chief fault seems to have been that he was too honest—he wished to economise when he saw his difficulties , ‘‘And so he must be punished for his folly,” exclaimed Warren. ‘‘ All the bankers and mer- chants in the City look upon him as a most egre- gious fool.” , ‘‘Ah, I comprehend!” cried the sharp-witted “Who could: contractor. ‘“ You think it will be a popular act to go and oppose this unfortunate man, and per- haps prevent him getting his certificate ?” “To be sure! — And moreover,” continued Warren, ‘‘it will be a little useful notoriety for myself—a creditor for fifteen hundred—it looks moneyish—and that’s just the way in which I do want to look, my dear fellow, at this present mo- ment. But Ah! noon, by Jove!” ejaculated this moral specimen of the City moneyocracy ; for at that instant the clock of the Royal Exchange began to proclaim the hour of twelve. “I must be off. This is the time for the fool Norton to ap- pear before the Commissioner.” The stockbroker and the contractor parted. We likewise shall now take leave of them for the present, and return to Edward Walpole, whom we left in his handsomely-furnished lodgings in Hanover Square. The young man remained absorbed in deep re- flection after the departure of his uncle. His thoughts were of a mixed character; for if on the one hand he had heard much to sadden him in respect to his parents, yet on the other hand he had much reason for rejoicing at the prospect of being presented on the ensuing day to his aunt and his cousins. He felt that the arms of an en- tire family were about to be opened to receive him ; and this reflection was naturally a source of bliss to one whose life had hitherto been cheerless and dreary indeed. Thus, altogether, Edward Walpole’s thoughts were rather of a pleasurable than a melancholy cast; and assuredly, if he looked at his future prospects, everything might be deemed of a roseate hue and he had naught to render him desponding. In the afternoon he rode out through the Parks, attended by a groom in a plain but neat livery; and though he was far from an ungraceful figure on horseback, yet it was evident that he could as yet boast of being but little practised in the eques- trian art. However, he knew that “ all this would soon come,” as Mr. Seymour was wont to tell him; and though he had as little vanity in his disposition as any living being, yet it would be endowing’ him with a fabulous meekness if we were to say that there was no sentiment of gratification, even if we do not call it pride, at finding himself handsomely mounted, well attended, and daily becoming an object of more and more attention on the part of the habitual loungers in those fashionable resorts. In the evening he dined at his own lodgings: he then went to some theatre ; and thus he appeared to be passing his time ration- ally enough, until about half-past ten o’clock— when his conduct, his habits, and pursuits seemed suddenly to undergo a change which will perhaps astonish the reader. Having ascertained that his purse was well fur- nished with gold and silver—for if not, he had only to return to his lodgings to procure a supply —he crossed one of the bridges; and plunging into some of those vile neighbourhoods which con- stitute whole quarters or districts on the Surrey side of the river, he appeared all in a moment to have thrown off the mask of a consummate dis- simulation and to have become a dissipated liber- tine. He stopped and jested with the loose females who accosted him:—some he took into | public-houses and treated to wine or other liquors; and it was with a lavish profusion that he scat- YN Wn) COMO Colin