The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 94: what you’re looking at

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

80 THE YOUNG DUCHESS; OR, MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. he had sworn to her in the most enthusiastic lan- guage that he loved her more than life. With what fervour did he strain her to his breast! with what fondness did she cling with her arms about his neck! How happy were they at that mo- ment! Everything was forgotten on the part of Launcelot except that he might love her! every- thing on the part of Imogen except the sweet knowledge of being thoroughly and completely beloved by him! ‘And now, dearest Imogen,” said Launcelot, at length, ‘‘ go and fetch that pretty little child: for as you love me, so will I love her—and since she cannot look up to her own parents for affec- tionate care, she shall receive it from us!” It was impossible that Imogen’s warm heart could have received a greater proof of Launcelot’s love than this which he was now affording her. Of her own accord she threw her superbly mo- delled arms again about his neck—she pressed him to her bosom—she kissed his lips unasked. Then she glided from the room, her exquisitely shaped feet scarcely seeming to touch the carpet on which they moved so glancingly; and up the staircase she bounded: Though she was only absent half a minute, yet it was with the fondest impatience that Launcelot awaited her return; for he longed to show all possible kindness towards the child whom his Imogen loved so tenderly. He felt that she must be « young woman of a | wonderful excellence of heart that she had dis- ‘played so much mingled devotedness and self- sacrifice for the sake of that child, and that she was therefore one of those rare sterling creatures who possess qualities even more attractive and endearing than their physical beauty. Imogen returned to the parlour with little Annie in her arms; and then the child wondered why the gentleman should take her upon his lap and caress and fondle her so: but she smiled with, the innocent sweetness of infantile gratitude—and then she seated herself in perfect happiness at the feet of the lovers, as they sat half-embraced upon the sofa. All of a sudden Imogen started up—glanced at _ her watch which lay upon the. table—and then pressing her beautiful white hands against Laun- celot’s cheeks, she said, “I must leave you, dearest! I must fly to the theatre! I am already late.” ‘Must you go?” he asked, with a look of min- gled fondness and regret. “Oh, yes! it is absolutely necessary! And I am so happy—and my heart is so light! Oh! my performance will be perfectly brilliant this evening !”—and with an ingenuous smile she dis- played her teeth of dazzling whiteness, while her pure fragrant breath fanned his cheek. ““Well, you must go, dear Imogen—yes, you must go for the present!” said Launcelot. ‘ But you must: soon give up this life!” She again threw herself into his arms—they embraced tenderly—and he took his departure ; for with the natural delicacy of his feelings, he ~ understood that Imogen would stand a chance of being compromised if he were to escort her to the theatre. The Star of the equestrian circus was indeed only just in time to take her part in the perform- - ances; and never had she appeared more’ ravish- ingly beautiful !—never had she ridden the horses with greater spirit! There was all the supple litheness of the Bayadere in the form which was so striking and brilliant: her eyes shone like stars; and her teeth appeared to be like orient pearls between the parting roses of her lips. The applause she elicited was, if possible, more enthu- silastic than ever. Launcelot was not there to behold her. He had hastened home, that he might indulge in the luxury of his own thoughts—that he might aban- don himself to the delicious ideas which were now floating in his mind—that he might bask in that roseate flood of lustre which is shed upon the heart from the sun of fancy’s own-created heaven! Let us now return to Sir Abel Kingston and Mr. Sylvester Casey, whom we left as they were hurrying along the street where Mrs. Grills’ habi- tation was situated, and fearing that the hoarse voice of that dame should bring the police into the neighbourhood. At length they relaxed the celerity of their pace; and then Sylvester said sulkily, ‘‘ Now, Sir Abel, what the devil does all this mean? You—you—owe me explanations. I—I—am in a deuce of a rage!” “One word first of all!” interjected the Baronet, stopping short and catching hold of Sylvester forcibly by the wrist.. “There is a mystery in all this “ : “T should think there .is,’ said Sylvester surlily : ‘so perhaps you'll explain why the deuce you kicked me out into the street ?” ‘“ Where is the letter,” demanded the Baronet, “‘in which the assignation was made ?” “Letter? Oh, ah! But that’s of no conse- quence to you,” continued Sylvester, who for an instant was thrown off his guard, he having for-. gotten the tale he had told Sir Abel at the hotel. “You owe me the bet—and you owe me an apology too ” ‘* Apology !” echoed the Baronet with disdain. “Come, come—that’s too good,” said Sylvester, affecting to be courageous and spirited. have used me shameful! What the deuce must Imogen thi ” “Imogen?” echoed the Baronet with a quick start of surprise.. _ “Why, yes—that is her name—isn’t it? But what is the matter with you now ?” ‘Nothing, nothing,” said the Baronet, infinitely relieved in one sense, for he saw that some tre- mendous mistake must have been committed—but nevertheless getting more and more bewildered as if he were floundering farther and farther into a perfect morass of perplexities. ‘‘ Now, do tell me, my dear fellow,” he continued, addressing Syl- vester in a coaxing tone of familiarity, ‘ how was all this managed? I really have a reason for asking ?” ° “Well, do you acknowledge that you have lost your bet?” demanded young Casey. “‘ Let us consider that the bet is off altogether,” said the Baronet. “I will tell you why. Of course we were speaking all the time of Mademoi- selle Imogen——were we not ?” ‘Of course we were,” replied Sylvester. “‘ Who else could we have been talking of ?” ‘No one, certainly. We understood each other all along—and it was that which made me so savage when on looking into the back parlour, I saw it was not Imogen at all !” Pern crnergrrresen etter ct cP AS EPG CA tft tee si nance YN Wn) COMO “You — a