The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 76: what you’re looking at

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

—__—_. 62 THE YOUNG DUCHESS; OR, MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. he should act :—he was indeed bewildered by the words which Alice had spoken to him, and utterly at a loss what interpretation to put upon them. Thus, all things considered, he felt that he re- quired leisure for reflection and deliberation ; and after having waited in front of the curtain to see Imogen appear in a second performance, Launcelot Osborne took his departure,—not without diffi- culty getting rid of Sylvester, who, as he had foreseen, stuck to him like a leech, proud of being observed in the company of a scion of the aris- tocracy, and anxious to induce him to go to some supper-rooms and pass the remainder of the even- ing. But Launcelot peremptorily declined; and eventually shaking off his unwelcome companion, he returned to Trentham House, to think of Imogen, and ponder on the brief, mysterious, un- finished allusion which had fallen from the lips of Alice Denton. CHAPTER XIV. LAUNCELOT. Ir was the evening of the day following the per- formances to which we have just been referring ; and Imogen Hartland, apparelled in her fantastic garb, was seated in her neat little parlour, wait- ing for the moment when she must set off for the theatre. Little Annie was playing with her doll, and singing to it in her sweet infantile voice; while ever and anon Imogen bent a look of ten- derness upon the child, or else leant forward and caressed her plump cheek of velvet softness. Yet Imogen was restless and agitated—for she was balancing, so to speak, betwixt disappoint- ment and suspense. Her friend Alice Denton had . told her what had occurred on the preceding even- ing; and Imogen had almost made sure that she should that .day receive a visit from Launcelot Osborne. But as hour after hour had passed, hope had gradually yielded to disappointment; and while endeavouring to conjure up a thousand ex- cuses to account for Launcelot’s non-appearance, she continued a prey to suspense as to whether he might purpose to come to her at all. She had just been replying to some artless question which little Annie had put to her, when there was a low double knock at the front door. She started—and her heart palpitated violently with the suspense of her feelings; for she knew not whether it might be Launcelot Osborne who was coming, or the Duchess of Ardleigh,—this being the evening on which the latter had promised to visit her. She listened with up- heaved bosom: she heard Fanny open the door; and then it was a masculine voice that spoke. Oh! how Imogen’s heart beat now! Was he in- deed coming at last? Should she send the child from the room? No!—she need not be ashamed of its presence; and she allowed the little inno- cent to remain. A few moments and the door opened,—Launcelot Osborne appearing on the threshold. His face was pale : he stopped short—he seemed to be labouring under a violent agitation, as if he knew not how to reconcile himself to the step which he was thus taking, and foresaw not what would be its result. Imogen rose up from her seat: and instead of rushing forward to welcome him, as she had ere now fancied that she should do— instead of being full of a wild haste to proclaim from her lips how cruelly she had been misjudged —she was seized with confusion: she was rivete to the spot—she felt full of shame and bashful- ness—and her eyes were bent down, while the colour glowed in richest crimson upon her cheeks. “Miss Hartland,” said the Hon. Launcelot Os- borne, ‘I ought perhaps to apologize for this in- trusion; but still, after everything which took place between us the other day at that strange scene when you received certain avowals and ex~ planations from my lips, I thé while taking you for another u “Do not apologize for coming hither,” said Imogen, in a low tremulous tone. “It is I who ought to apologize for receiving you in sucha garb as this.” “Though it may not be the garb which I should best like to see you wear,” answered Laun- celot, now advancing into the room and closing the door behind him, “ yet you need not be ashamed of it; for it indicates that you eat the bread procured by the exercise of a legitimate avocation. But without another syllable of preface let me ask you z ““T know what you mean,” interrupted Imogen : and then as a sudden feeling of bitterness and dis- appointment seized upon her, she said, “ But of what avail is it for me to justify myself in your eyes, since you are about to become the husband of her for whom you took me the other day when I sat at your feet—when I pressed your hand to my lips i | “Imogen,” said Launcelot, in a low voice which was broken and tremulous in its accents; “ prove to me that you have been wronged by report— and—-and it may make a great difference in my views ‘and intentions—it may prove a turning- point both in my career and your’s ” “Oh, if this were possible!” she murmured, clasping her hands before her: then in a voice that was inaudible to little Annie, but yet power- fully emphatic in its tone, she said, * That child is not mine!” “‘ Not your’s ? it really is not your’s ?’—and Launcelot appeared to reel and stagger under the influence of his feelings, while mingled hope, joy, and suspense were depicted on his countenance. “No—not mine!” repeated Imogen. “I can look you in the face”—she raised her handsomé countenance as she spoke, and met his gaze with her large beautiful blue eyes that appeared to beam with candour and frankness,—“ I can look you in the face and declare that as I have a soul to be saved I have never done a deed for which I ought to blush !” ‘Good God! is this possible ?”—and there wag. now a sort of wildness in the very joy which filled the look that Launcelot bent upon Imogen. ‘But why—why have you allowed yourself to remain under imputations so injurious ?” ‘Yes, so injurious,” said Imogen bitterly, “that even at this very instant you scarcely believe the assurance I have given you !” ‘TY would give half of my life,” responded Os- borne, emphatically, “to be enabled to believe it so thoroughly and completely that it should amount to an absolute conviction.” NOO a) ©) = A Colin