The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 53: what you’re looking at

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THE YOUNG DUCHESS : OR, MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. 39 Fortune had favoured her, as we have seen—and she was now free. But she was penniless: her purse and all her jewels had been left behind at the mill. A mile- stone presently informed her that she was still _nine miles from Maidstone. This was a long walk for her to take; but there scarcely seemed to be any help for it. It however appeared as if fortune was determined not to do things by halves on her account on this particular night. She had not advanced half a mile from the spot where she had rested on the bank, when she heard the rumbling of wheels behind her; and in a few minutes she was overtaken by a postchaise returning empty to Maidstone. The postilion, who was somewhat ine- briated, did not notice anything peculiar in the well-dressed individual so as to lead‘him to suspect that she was one of the gentler sex disguised in male apparel : and he immediately gave her a seat inside the chaise. When the outskirt of Maid- stone was reached, the lady desired the postilion to put her down at a little public-house which she named; and there the chaise stopped accordingly. The lady’s confidential maid was waiting there; and she had a supply of money in her purse. All difficulties were therefore at once overcome: the postilion was remunerated—the male disguise was soon exchanged for the raiment properly becoming the lady’s sex—a postchaise was soon in readiness —and away started the heroine of the evening’s adventures, attended by her confidential maid. Precisely at ten o’clock on the ensuing morning, Mr. Timothy Gaffney entered the celebrated bank- ing house in the Strand. His friend Mr. John Peppercorn, who was dressed in a sort of sport- ing style, and had the air of a horse chaunter, lounged on the opposite side of the street, pre- tending to be looking in a’ picture-shop window, but in realitv awaiting with no inconsiderable degree of interest the issne of his’ companion’s call at the bank. Tim advanced with an air of confidence up to the counter, and presented the letter. Indeed, that confidence was not assumed; for he considered the chances to be a hundred to one in his favour. “You must take this letter into the parlour,” said the clerk, to whom he presented it. “It is private, and addressed to the Firm.” To the parlour did Tim Gaffney accordingly proceed; and he found himself in the presence of a short, elderly, bald-headed gentleman, who was seated at a table strown with letters and other documents. ‘‘ What have you there ?” inquired this gentle- man. Tim gave the letter: the old gentleman took it —carefully examined the seal—and having as- sured himself that it had not been broken nor tampered with, he muttered, ‘“‘ Then her secret is safe !” Without opening the letter he proceeded very deliberately to lock it up’ if an iron safe, the key of which he consigned to his pocket. “That will do, my good man,” he calmly said as he resumed his seat. “Do?” ejaculated Gaffney. not read the letter, sir !” ““T know its contents well enough,” was the reply, delivered in the same quiet tone as be- fore. For a moment Tim Gafthey knew not whether “But you have he stood upon his head or his heels: but quickly recovering himself, he said, ‘I suppose, sir, you are not the gentleman who reads private letters of that sort, and I must call again ?” “Oh, yes! I am the gentleman—as you might judge when I told you that I already,knew the contents of the letter. Or else of course I should have opened and read it.” “But there must be a mistake, sir! ” continued Tim. | ‘There is no mistake, my good man—unless it be made by yourself.” ; “Beg your pardon, sir,” persisted Tim; ‘ but it is impossible that you can Imow the contents of that letter !” “To prove to you the contrary,” rejoined the elderly gentleman, who was very serious, but very mild in his voice and look, “I need only mention that the letter enjoins me not to ask you any questions.” Tim Gaffney was thunderstruck: he literally staggered against the door-post: but quickly re- covering himself, he said, “I wish you a very good morning, sir ”—and he took his depar- ture. “Well?” said Jack Peppercorn, as he rejoined his friend in the street. ‘I see there’s something wrong, old feller, by your looks ?” — “Wrong?” echoed Tim savagely. ‘‘ I’m done as brown as ever [ was in all my life! But how the deuce it could have happened, I can’t for the life of me conceive !” CHAPTER IX. A DISCOVERY. WE must now return to Alfred Trevor, whom we left when he parted from the disguised lady, and whom we represented as endeavouring to compose his looks prior to rejoining his beloved Ethel at the cottage. But in spite of all his attempts to assume a mien which should have the’ effect of alarming Ethel as little as possible, it was more than human nature could achieve to avoid the betrayal ‘of some portion of the agitation which shook him. The young lady herself was waiting in the garden for his return: she was a prey to the ut- most suspense; for visions of a duel—wounds— and perhaps death—were flitting through her mind. ‘The minutes seemed to be ages dragging themselves past! At length Trevor emerged from the surrounding obscurity ; and Ethel flew to- wards him. “Tt is all settled, dearest!” he said. ‘You have nothing more to apprehend on my account !” Though the dusk was closing in, yet there was sufficient light to show Ethel her husband’s coun- tenance; and she saw that it was deadly pale. She noticed moreover that he was all trembling ; and the immensity of the love she bore for him, had taught her’so minutely to study his disposition and character, that the slightest evidence of any unusual feeling on his part was sure to be compre- hended by her. “Oh, Alfred!” she exclaimed, “I am afraid that there has been a scene of violence—or else Peni A aT i Oa aa a Ait ht i iit A ANE a I AAP CAO POEL EERIE CELL TEE ECE LE ATOLL, Connicloooks